Vi sat on a bench outside the coliseum, you crouched in front of her with a small medical bag sitting next to you.

She hissed as you poured a bit of alcohol onto a rag and dabbed it to the mark on her forehead, pulling away from your touch.

“Leave it. I’m fine.” She spat, pushing your hand away.

You often took care of the fighters since they had no one else to. Vi was the only one who gave you a hard time for it. She only ever allowed it if she had a few drinks in her.