In the tent, Gro still lay on the ground, his wound continuously oozing blood. Nearby, Pandora seemed idle, constantly biting on the tip of the silver fork in her mouth.
Richard glanced over, took out a bottle of alcohol from his chest, and squatted beside Gro to start treating his wound.
Even in his unconscious state, Gro furrowed his brow as the high-concentration alcohol was poured, showing excruciating pain.
Richard, however, did not seem to care, handling the wound as if dealing with an inanimate object, coldly and meticulously.
After finally tending to the wound, Richard looked towards Pandora and stretched out his hand, palm up.
"What?" Pandora asked, puzzled.
"Give me what's in your mouth," Richard said.
"What!" Pandora frowned, refusing.
Richard replied with some helplessness, "I need it for a purpose, just temporarily. I'll give it back to you afterward."