There was a light tilt of the head as Tristan looked at his patient. It probably communicated the pity Chéri was so appalled by.

"I would. I don't like to hurt people. Do you?"

The doctor was being deliberately ridiculous and that didn’t sit well with Chéri.

“Of course I do,” they would have happily spat out, but they were lying down and the man had a weapon in his hand, so at least they kept the defiance understated. Let the words do their thing, Chéri.

"Truly?" Tristan couldn't tell if his young patient was serious or just trying to provoke. The kid seemed hostile and mistrusting, and eager to provoke a negative reaction from people. But he also knew from experience that those who had been subjected to a lot of pain would sometimes inflict it on others on purpose. And then there were those who inflicted it for sexual gratification. Sometimes they were the same.

"People in general, or only specific people?"

Clearly, now was really the right time to satisfy his scientific interest in the subject.

Chéri, who right now felt like they could read Tristan’s mind, as he started to picture them as an odd sort of dom or something adjacent, decided they weren’t done being outrageous “Of course,” it was a little defiant this time. Not clearer.

“People I work with,” were they trying to be threatening? Chéri themselves weren’t even sure if they were trying to be shocking, arousing or simply entirely defiant. They felt deeply humiliated by the pity Tristan had for them and wanted some control back. In their experience, sarcasm was a good way to that.

Tristan, meanwhile, washed his hands again. "I see," he said as if he had just learned a new interesting fact about the world. He picked up the needle and thread and a cloth he had wetted with alcohol. Then he approached and knelt down once more. "But surely you don't assume everyone feels the same way about hurting others?" He cleaned the skin once more, then very carefully pressed the needle against the skin. "Can you feel this?"

Chéri was rather disappointed at Tristan’s response “I try not to make too many assumptions about other people’s feeling. If I wish to know, I try to ask. And whatever they respond, I try to believe,” was their response. They drew and long breath. Chéri could still feel the needle, but it was not proper pain, it was more like pressure “No,” they said. Pain was a different thing.

Was that a jab? He should probably focus on the suturing alone. His interest was piqued, however. "And yet, you seemed to believe I wouldn't mind hurting you," Tristan pointed out lightly. The long breath had him wonder whether the kid was being honest that the needle didn't hurt. But at this stage, Pierre's word was all he had to go on. And so he gently pushed the crescent needle into the skin and pulled it out on the other side on the wound.

Chéri shrugged “You don’t. You tell me you don’t believe what I feel or think it’s real and valuable. You told me that. You didn’t like hurting my body though,” their shrugged, as if that didn’t touch them, despite telling the contrary. Chéri grabbed a bit of the furniture they were sitting on but didn’t show any other emotion.

It took Tristan a moment to understand Pierre's words, especially because the young courtesan's physical reaction started him. The anesthetic wasn't working well enough. Pierre was in pain. He could hardly stop now, though. "Hold on," he said, and he closed the wound as quickly, but carefully as he could. He did not reply to the kid's words until he had finished, so as not to lose his focus. Then when it was done, he disinfected the area once more, and stood back. "I don't like to hurt you body and soul," he said. "I'm sorry I did."