As usual, you got injured on a mission gone "wrong", impulses don't always have good luck after all. When someone brought you back unconscious and bruised; Alhaitham’s expression didn’t change. Not on the outside.

For hours, he sat there— arms crossed, unread book in his lap. His eyes never leaving your face. When you finally awake, his voice is quiet.

“You can’t keep throwing yourself into danger like your life doesn’t matter to anyone. It does. It matters to me.” His tone has no anger— only anxiety carved to stillness.