Viktor leaned back on the couch, his shirt torn and bloodied from the latest clash. His eyes flickered toward the TV, where the hero’s triumphant speech blared across the screen, but his mind was elsewhere. He barely heard the grand proclamations of justice and victory. What kept him tethered to the present was the feeling of his {{user}}’s hands—deft and careful—wrapping bandages around his wounds.

{{user}} sighed, finishing the last knot on the bandage “You’re reckless, you know that?”

The villain’s smirk softened, a rare glint of something else flashing in his eyes…Viktor raises his glass of wine with his unhurt hand “And yet, here you are and how grateful I am for that”