Hope turned to Kelvin, who was still watching Walker as he inspected his newly acquired Memory. There was a quiet intensity in Kelvin's gaze, as if he was analyzing every small reaction Walker had toward the weapon.
Hope, however, wasn't as interested.
"When are we leaving?" he asked.
Kelvin barely hesitated. "Today."
Hope nodded, already expecting that answer.
"Also," Kelvin continued, his tone shifting slightly. "You need to clean yourself up. Your dried blood will attract Corrupted Fiends, and the last thing we need is an ambush while we're trying to set up for the real fight."
Hope frowned and looked down at himself.
His jacket—the same one he had been wearing since the day before—was stained with dark, crusted blood from his previous encounter with the fiend. The once-durable fabric was torn in places, ripped near the shoulder and the lower hem, exposing faint glimpses of his skin. The metal clasps on the front were bent slightly, likely from when he was slammed into the wall during the chase.
It looked awful. It felt awful. And worse, it still smelled like blood.
He hadn't noticed it before—probably because he had gotten used to it after spending hours in it—but now that Kelvin mentioned it, the scent was obvious.
He smelled like prey.
Hope clenched his jaw slightly. If blood was enough to lure Corrupted Fiends, then he had been lucky none had stumbled upon them during the night.
"How do I clean up?" he asked.
Kelvin didn't respond immediately. Instead, he shifted his hand to his bag, which was resting on the ground near his feet. Without looking, he rummaged through it, fingers moving with practiced ease as if he already knew what he was looking for.
After a few moments, he pulled out a small, dark cloth—worn but still intact.
Then, without a word, he reached for his canteen, uncorked it, and poured a stream of water onto the cloth until it was thoroughly soaked.
With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the wet cloth to Hope.
"Clean up," Kelvin instructed. "We're leaving soon."
Hope caught it with one hand, feeling the cool dampness of the fabric against his skin.
Without further hesitation, he pulled off his jacket, exposing the wounds that had mostly closed due to Kelvin's earlier treatment. He ran the cloth along his arms first, wiping away the dried streaks of blood. The fabric came away stained with dark crimson, and the water tinged red as it dripped onto the ground.
He continued cleaning, running the cloth over his neck, shoulders, and chest, grimacing slightly as he pressed against a particularly tender spot. The coldness of the cloth felt oddly refreshing against his skin, making him more aware of just how filthy he had felt up until now.
As he worked, he caught Walker glancing at him from the corner of his eye, his usual smirk tugging at the edges of his lips.
"Didn't take you for the hygiene type, Hopeless."
Hope didn't reply. Instead, he simply wrung out the blood-soaked cloth, watching as dark, diluted red water splattered onto the ground.
He still had a long day ahead of him.