"All of this is over spilled ink?" The Ravenclaw was gaping at the Gryffindor, whose condition was worsening little by little. He swayed at the sight of blood but snapped out of his reverie. Now was not the time to get queasy! He was the only hope of making sure that Braeden made it to the hospital wing alive! Dusting off his hands, he swept over to Brae and, with a grimace, ripped off the cuff of his button-down shirt. "Here, hold it over your nose to stop to flow. We need to see the healer." It was heart-breaking to see his friend in such a state. Theodore had quidditch tryouts, which he was deeply dreading, next week and instead of preparing, he would be worrying about his little lion friend. "You look fine and handsome as always." Theodore answered quickly, knowing that telling his the truth would only frighten the spaz of a Gryffindor even more.

Placing his hand on the small of Brae's back, he began to lead him out. "We need to get you proper care, mate. Just breathe through your nose; you'll be fine." In truth, Theodore had no clue how capable the school's healer was. This was only a broken nose, so hopefully it would be fixed up promptly. He could only hope.