[Sephiroth doesn't have "normal people metrics", given that he essentially grew up in a lab and is a weird mess of a man underneath all that cool collectedness. He's not judging; he has no room to judge. Upon Tseng's agreement to be tended to, Sephiroth merely hums and gives him a nod before peeling the gloves off his hands. He doesn't particularly care to get ointment and the like on them.]
Do you recall anything?
[He doesn't know much; he only showed up in time to see Tseng knock himself silly. It's mostly easy conversation to keep Tseng distracted. Probably unnecessary, but a force of habit when Sephiroth is dealing with injured troops under his care.
All the same, he reaches up and brushes the wayward strands from Tseng's forehead, smoothing them to the side of his temple and holding them there. A haphazard bun, indeed. His other hand brings up an alcohol swab, running across the wound with a delicacy that may or may not be surprising from a fearsome general.]
no subject
Do you recall anything?
[He doesn't know much; he only showed up in time to see Tseng knock himself silly. It's mostly easy conversation to keep Tseng distracted. Probably unnecessary, but a force of habit when Sephiroth is dealing with injured troops under his care.
All the same, he reaches up and brushes the wayward strands from Tseng's forehead, smoothing them to the side of his temple and holding them there. A haphazard bun, indeed. His other hand brings up an alcohol swab, running across the wound with a delicacy that may or may not be surprising from a fearsome general.]