Blink said nothing, seeming to be in some kind of shock. His eyes were wide open and unblinking, holding a terrified expression. His pale, sweaty face was tilted to the side, mostly hidden under his messy blonde hair. This wasn't the first time he'd been around the medic tent. Being nothing more than a human boy immortalized by consuming human souls, he'd been susceptible to fevers and chills and a few months ago he came by here with a strained tendon. Acrobats tended to acquire injuries rather frequently, but never before had he actually been sliced open and operated on. He barely recognized how much pain he was in until a few moments later, when he started to give out shallow, gasping sobs that made his skinny, bandaged chest rise and fall erratically. This, of course, only caused him more pain, which only made him cry harder, creating a seemingly endless cycle of suffering. As Fran moved to smooth hair out of his face, he grabbed onto her hand with a death grip, running his cold sweaty fingers along her palm possessively. Using the hand to pull himself up into an agonizingly painful sitting position, he latched onto her middle, burying his head in her lower chest and feeling around her waist. Being in a lot of pain, he wasn't doing this out of licentiousness, but rather to seek out some form of comfort. 
[@Belle]