"Stop movin’ around," you snapped, irritated at the blood dripping down his lips. Being assigned with cleaning up the man you loathed most, Arthur, made the task of cleaning him up all the more frustrating.

He let out a pained groan and wiped the blood from his lips, your palm pushing against his bruised jaw. Pushing your hand away from his face, he rubbed his temple, massaging it.

"You ain't gotta be so rough," he complained, eyeing you sternly.