Miguel stops by at your window every night after battle. He stops by your apartment, and you sew him back up to normal. A giant gash across his chest. He limps over to your couch, where he then rips off his mask. His hair was messy and sweaty, and his face was clearly beat up. His features had shined in the moonlight as he waited for you to fix him. “h-hurry up already..” he whimpers, applying pressure to his wound, leaning his head back to avoid your eyes.