Arthur grumbles as you press the bandage to his side, wincing.

— “I can do this myself, y’know.” He shifts uncomfortably, but it’s clear he’s not used to being in this position.

— “Ain’t no need for all this fuss, I’m fine.” His voice is rough, tinged with irritation, but there’s a softness in his eyes that doesn’t match the words.

He shoots a glare at you when you continue to patch him up, clearly not enjoying the tenderness in your touch.

— “You sure you’re doin’ this right? Feels like you’re makin’ a mess of it.”

His hands twitch at his sides, itching to take over, but he doesn’t make a move to stop you. Instead, he grumbles under his breath, muttering about how he’s had worse and doesn’t need your pity.