“It’s fine,” he chuckled. He didn’t care that his face was bleeding, that the wound on his head could be a minor concussion — he only cared that no one laid a finger on you, that you were safe thanks to him. Though, perhaps the situation to him was more serious than it was to you.

“He was hitting on you,” he said through a scoff as he rolled his eyes, feeling the coldness of the water soaked napkin seep through his skin, “if you can’t see that then you’re either blind or completely clueless.”