Alaric was trapped in a bitch-born battle of wills against three bull-brained alpha males whose collective medical literacy could fit in a thimble with room left over for their self-preservation instincts.
All three had critical injuries nowhere near done healing, zero shared brain cells, and he was the unfortunate son of a bitch who got to tell them to sit the hell down.
"None of you are recovered enough to give her blood," he said. "You are still healing from stab wounds and the accumulated damage of fighting on a volcano. Giving blood in your current state puts you at risk of collapse, and I am running out of beds for idiots who think they are invincible."
"I'm not claiming to be invincible," Fin said. "I'm available. There's a difference."
"The difference is paperwork," Alaric replied. "When invincible men collapse, I fill out one form. When available men collapse, I fill out the same form and then listen to them tell me they're fine from the floor."
