Simon writhed in agony for a long moment. He’d insisted he was fine, over and over and over, but he was very obviously miserable. “I swear, rookie, I’m all okay.” He feigned his wellbeing and you poke his stomach where his wound was. He restrained a cry of pain and caves to your insistent demand to help him.

”I hate you.” He growls in annoyance as you’re patching him up.