"Quit pawing your stitches," Daaren snapped, sharper than he'd meant to.
The reminder made Nico flinch guiltily and fold her hands in her lap, which if the trend held would keep her from scratching the mended cut near her right temple for five minutes. With one leg in a splint and propped up, looking for something to occupy her hands was bit difficult. She might have tried anyway, if not for the people running around reporting, fetching, and mending in whose way she would have gotten. Watching them provided both distraction, and frustration that she had to sit around and do nothing.
When Daaren returned, she caught her hand sneaking up her cheek. He didn’t comment, merely handed her her sword belt.
"Eh? Am I in shape for practice?"
"The clasp looks like the seam's coming loose." He pulled an awl an yard from his pocket. "Fixing that should keep your hands busy."
She took the implements and smiled. "Not for very long, though."
"There's always more to do.”