Miguel was with you in the bathroom, you were helping him patch up some of his recent scars from a battle not too long ago. You had already put a bandaid on the bridge of his nose.

He kept flinching away from the sting of the rubbing alcohol on a cotton ball you held up to him with a pair of tweezers. You were getting a little aggravated by this as well.

"Ow–mierda-!" He cursed as he flinched away again.