Even though he had dressed the injuries without so much as a flicker of apprehension, it's that which causes Emet-Selch's face to contort in disgust. Not the blood. Not the bruises. But this stranger expecting him to cater to his absolute helplessness.

He'd meant to give him the container to drink from - most had the pride to try and do it themselves no matter how injured they were - not to give him drink by hand like some child.

He looks away and refuses to meet the boy's gaze. It's with the utmost reluctance that Emet-Selch tips the bottle back and gives him a quick drink. Some water is likely not making it to its intended destination. "This is the best I am able to do under these circumstances." He says, letting him ease back to lying down if he so wishes. "Now rest and consider not causing further upheaval until you are fit enough to do so."