At first while V is busy with the tap, Alec doesn't answer. He looks up and down the hall, knife still in hand. When still nothing happens—no noises, no sharp ozone smell of magic, no trails of ichor or anyone milling about that might be a demon in disguise—he reluctantly hauls the bit of bed frame over and uses it to wedge the door back against the wall. He wants to be very certain it won't swing shut and trap them in again.
He turns and squints at V's back, his downturned face in the mirror: bright hair and strange tattoos, the glinting metal of a lot of jewelry in his ears. Sure, Alec may have spent most of his life pretty isolated, but even lately he hasn't met anybody who looks quite like V does. He's forcing himself to stop trying to figure out what to make of that, as he knows that just because V has gone back to snippy responses doesn't necessarily mean he's not still in that weird freak-out state. Alec doesn't really care what he's going through (yet), but he doesn't make a habit of ditching... mundanes? In sketchy magical situations. Not since Simon, anyway: look how that had turned out. (And is this guy even a mundane? He doesn't really seem like it, what with being armed and talking about how he's incapable of bleeding.)
"You need to wrap your hand," he says instead of offering back V's stuff, but by you he apparently means we because he immediately kneels next to the bed he didn't just throw onto the ground, tossing back the covers to start cutting strips out of the fabric with the knife. He hasn't necessarily done a lot of first aid—thank Runes for that—but he hasn't done as little as most Nephilim due to his bad habit of avoiding healing his own cuts and scrapes if he's feeling particularly stressed and looking for an outlet. But that's neither here nor there. "Water won't stop the bleeding."
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He turns and squints at V's back, his downturned face in the mirror: bright hair and strange tattoos, the glinting metal of a lot of jewelry in his ears. Sure, Alec may have spent most of his life pretty isolated, but even lately he hasn't met anybody who looks quite like V does. He's forcing himself to stop trying to figure out what to make of that, as he knows that just because V has gone back to snippy responses doesn't necessarily mean he's not still in that weird freak-out state. Alec doesn't really care what he's going through (yet), but he doesn't make a habit of ditching... mundanes? In sketchy magical situations. Not since Simon, anyway: look how that had turned out. (And is this guy even a mundane? He doesn't really seem like it, what with being armed and talking about how he's incapable of bleeding.)
"You need to wrap your hand," he says instead of offering back V's stuff, but by you he apparently means we because he immediately kneels next to the bed he didn't just throw onto the ground, tossing back the covers to start cutting strips out of the fabric with the knife. He hasn't necessarily done a lot of first aid—thank Runes for that—but he hasn't done as little as most Nephilim due to his bad habit of avoiding healing his own cuts and scrapes if he's feeling particularly stressed and looking for an outlet. But that's neither here nor there. "Water won't stop the bleeding."