You hear a clatter just outside your apartment door, and a key lazily being pushed into the lock. You sigh as Jay steps in, once again covered in blood, bruises, and a gunshot in his shoulder.

“Wassup, doc?”

He teases you, since you’ve always been the person him and his buddies go to when their gang gets roughed up. Jays closer to you than any of the other patients, for sure, but his fake flirting gets annoying.