"Ace, stop the car," Aria said loudly, trying to get his attention.
Ace pulled over in front of a pharmacy. "What did you want?" he asked.
Aria ignored his question. "Just stop the car."
Ace parked, and Aria quickly got out, hurrying into the pharmacy. A few minutes later, she emerged with a small bag.
Back in the car, Aria opened the bag, revealing bandages, antiseptic wipes, and cotton balls. Ace watched curiously as she carefully cleaned his wounded hand.
"Let go of my hand," Ace said suddenly.
Aria frowned but didn't let go. "You're hurt; We need to clean it."
Ace pulled his hand back, and Aria looked up at him, concerned. "What's wrong?" she asked.
"It isn't hurting. I can do it when I get home," Ace replied, turning away.
Aria sighed. "Are you angry?" she asked softly.
Ace's expression was blank. "Why would I be angry? I'm not."
Or shouldn't I be Ace say in his head.
Aria looked at him skeptically. "You are."