[ Wow, okay. Very little time is needed before the teen drags the cloth off his head. Like he wasn't dirty enough already, he has to have another dude's blood crust on him (how'd he get hurt, anyway? Maybe he got into a fight, it wasn't improbable). Making a face to the comment, Ethan is reminded of someone else, a conversation that only seems to further upset his flipping stomach and still too fresh in his mind to stick in a mental drawer. He has reasons not to argue with that anymore, he had his opinions and everyone else had theirs. With a huff, he balls the dirtied fabric with his own shirt, and calls out as he leans his body to the wall. He'll clean these . . . Soon. Himself, too.. ]
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How'd you even know?