[Alfendi tries to roll his eyes with as much disdain as he can manage, but as soon as that rag makes contact with his wrist, he sucks in air through his teeth and bites down on his tongue to stop the pain. He'd curl his hand into a fist, too, but. you know. dead hands.

he covers the pain, of course, with anger.]

Be careful! [He's certainly reacting to his wounds with more emotion than before - did that other alfendi seriously not give a shit about his injuries?? that was definitely a concern.] I swear to god, Hershel, if you don't stop with all of this yapping, I'm going to cut out your tongue and reign you in myself!

[which is as good an answer as any, of course. he's obviously trying to distract hershel from pursuing this line of questioning, but he's probably not doing a very good job at it.]