Kurt watches Wrench's quick pencil strokes over the angled pad as he tears open a packet of gauze and dips it in the warm water. His eyebrows tick upwards as Wrench fills out the gaps in the phrase, then a smile crooks the corners of his mouth as understanding dawns. So he has not been the only one making efforts to learn. He squeezes the water out of the gauze and sets it on the edge of the bowl, then reaches across to gently take the pencil out of Wrench's hand.

You have nothing to be sorry for, he prints carefully in the space between the unfortunate stick figure and the answer. He pauses, then adds: (Except possibly allowing Logan to stitch you.)

The outcome of that particular venture is the subject of his attention next. Leaving Wrench to consider the response on the pad, he eyes the stitches winding over the man's bicep, then considers the supplies available to him. The scissors from the medical kit are sized for normal human hands and therefore too small for his fingers, and although Logan keeps an impressive stock of knives, he's not about to use something better suited for gutting deer on something like this. He sighs, resigned to clumsiness, and returns his gaze to Wrench's face rather than his arm.

This will hurt, he points out, likely needlessly, but feeling he should at least gauge the man's thoughts on the matter.