[ There's a prickle of irritation that starts, like a shiver across his skin, and he recognizes it only after a moment longer, once it has time to settle: it's shame. Having the other man explain something to him that he should know, thanks to his SOLDIER training, makes his thoughts spin; his first reaction is indignation, of course, a scoff of breath that doesn't express itself into words. He does as he's told, pulling the bit of blood-soaked cloth out with gloved fingertips, and a few droplets spill, mussed into the dirt at his feet.

Why does it bother him so much? Surely it's fine for a First Class to have forgotten some small modicum of first aid training; he's good enough that he usually doesn't get that injured, after all, or can easily wipe it away with a bit of materia. Or--had he just not paid attention during training? Idly, his thoughts wander in search of memory of his first days, and--

His teeth grit together against the threat of a wave of nausea, a headache starting to pinch between his temples. Rather than submit to it, he does as the other man demonstrates, pinching sharply at the spot just above his nostrils. The blood, however, he lets dribble and spatter onto the ground just like the rest. ]

...Thanks. Guess I liked combat training more than first aid. [ --is his rough, embarrassed reply, as he casts his gaze down to his boots. ] Think you can lead the way? Heard it's just up the path there, on the right, but who knows.

[ It would seem they'll be keeping each other company, despite the fact that he thinks the man probably likes it about as much as he does. ]