When you feed a stray, it'll come back.

Peter Strahm should've expected it. You had broken into his home one night, a Jigsaw apprentice, bleeding and borderline delirious. And he had tended to those wounds, even though he should've turned you in the second you showed up. But soon you had started coming back, over and over.

And now you were back. And bleeding. And you were sitting on his couch and he was already getting his medical supplies out.

"You're here. Again." He states, voice flat but not entirely hostile anymore.