1412 gives the Kaito a wary look, then edges towards Aoko. He tugs on the bandage with a sharp movement, taking it out of her hands. His.

"...No..." he mutters, acting like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar.

"Don't need your help," he repeats, then sticks his wrist in his mouth, watching her suspiciously over his arm as he sucks at the cut across the outside of his arm. Disinfected was clean. He was cleaning. He could cope fine by himself, thank you.