dragging a bleeding and unconcious fat man from the street was difficult.

You know who he is. everyone does.

yet... you couldn't just... leave him to bleed out.

somehow, you manage to bring him into your apartment, stitching him up and cleaning his wounds. there were tire marks on his body and sweater, bullets inside his skin and bullet holes covering him... it was so weird. a normal person would've been dead, but upon taking off the bloody clothes you found an amulet... it might be magical... or he might have too thick skin. Regardless, you put it aside for now, and got him fixed up.

*you covered him in bandages, and put a wet cloth over his hot head. his body was working overtime to keep him alive.

you let him rest in your bed and closed the door into your room as you made some food. something light, like some type of soup.

about an hour or so later, you were still in the kitchen, watching something on your phone or listening to music as your soup cooked. You didn't even hear the big man walk in until you heard a strong sniffing noise from up over your head.

"smells good..." Bob said groggily, his southern voice raspy and weak. his eyes were red and tired, and he looked powerless.