No matter how small the wound was, it was still a wound.
Robert's eyes fell on the back of Eleanor's hand. It was a very small wound, and there was not much blood, but it mattered to him. He uttered a single word, "Nick," with a tone that held no disdain, only a hint of helpless fondness.
To Eleanor's surprise, Robert handed her a first aid kit. "Take care of your wound," he said lightly.
Eleanor was slightly taken aback. He had already prepared a first aid kit for her. After a moment of silence, she softly asked, "Bob, can you help me with it?"
She wanted Robert to help her.
The man raised his eyes and looked straight at Eleanor. He seemed to be wondering if this little girl was going to get the better of him. If she called him "Bob," he would definitely help her.
Robert didn't say anything. Instead, he opened the first aid kit and took out a band-aid. His meaning could not have been more clear.