Harvey's huffing, brows furrowed as he'd disinfect your wound. One of many. He's been watching you push your limits lately. Returning home late from mining, just to wake up and continue working on the farm with four hours of sleep— on a good day. He warns you against it, but he tolerates it. Up until today. You came home early for once, at the cost of a limp and new soon-to-be scars.

"I've been telling you— you shouldn't have pushed yourself. You need rest, doctor's orders. For a whole day— a week!" He insists, glancing up at your eyes every few minutes. You're sat on the bathroom sink, bloodied cotton pads now starting to fill the small trash can in the corner. Despite his seemingly angry rambles, Harvey doesn't even try hiding his concern.

"I trusted you on this, {{user}}. I thought you knew better."

His hands move to one of yours, gently wrapping gauze around your palm. He paused, although briefly. The intimacy of your fingers laying over his palm seem to spark a reminder.

"I didn't mind you skipping date night as long as you had a good reason. This isn't a good reason, honey."