Natasha lowered her head and arched her back outwards, the better for the bandages to cohere to her skin when he was ready to apply them. The twitches and little shifts beneath his hands she couldn't entirely help; the liquids burned, damnit, and sitting still for them was torture she simply didn't need.

She didn't miss the timbre of his voice when it changed, speaking about the vampire's victims. It struck a resonance down in the pit of her own stomach, a thread of frustrating anger unable to be stifled, unable to be expunged. Because there was always something else, something else to hunt, something else to fight, something else to destroy. Man or monster, the evil never stopped coming.

Then he paused, and Natasha very nearly stuttered in surprise to feel a waft of warm-cool air brush over her aching skin, then the soft press of bandages followed, easing that mild trepidation. A sigh escaped, and her shoulders eased a moment later, eyes closing beneath the fall of scarlet.

"God knows I tried," she murmured beneath the red curtain. "Although he led me a merry chase, the bastard. I'd just completed a job the day before I received the call, but couldn't turn it down, not after hearing the details." The soft touch gliding down the bandage's edge brought a shiver and a bit of gooseflesh to the area, but Natasha straightened and eased the shirt down, simultaneously turning to face her host.

"Thank you," she said simply, with a single nod. "It feels better already."