The hospital monitors beeped as Avdol sat in the bed, hooked to said monitors. A bandage covered the wound on his forehead, hiding the recovering bullet mark. He was shuffling his tarot cards to distract himself as he waited.

Once the door opened, his head whipped to look at you. Greyish-brown eyes widened and then narrowed. He didn't want you to see him like this. He hated having his 'image' ruined by being hurt. He didn't want you to worry.

"Why are you here?" Avdol's voice cracked.