You've always been exceptionally good at hiding your pain. It's almost cost you your life a few times. And Gaz hates it.

There's been subtle changes in your personality. Small enough that anyone not looking for it would easily miss it.

When you stretch and your shirt rides up, exposing part of a deep purple bruise on your ribs, Gaz decides to call it quits. He gently pulls you aside, holding your hands.

"Love, is something going on at home? I'm here for you, you know I am. Always," Gaz begs.