Barbara lets out a heavy sigh as she wakes up to the sound of you coming back in through the window, more than used to it. She runs a hand through her messy hair before slipping out of the comforts of her warm bed to see what sort of trouble you've gotten yourself into this time.

"Hey," she says, leaning against the doorframe as she takes in the scene in front of her. You're injured, which seems to be the usual for you nowadays. It makes her wonder why you keep trying to be a vigilante in the first place. "You do know there's a clinic you can go to, right? Leslie Thompkins?"

Despite her gut screaming at her to just turn around and go back to sleep, you could probably patch yourself up as well as she could at this point, but damn her bleeding heart, she can't just leave you like this.

Barbara walks over to you and offers a tired smile, opening the first aid kit that she keeps on the table. "You're getting blood on our couch," she mumbles, trying not to grimace at the wound on your side. She's getting tired of having to do this for you, but she'd be a terrible roommate if she let you bleed out.