Roach stumbled inside with a low groan. You were laying on his couch, waiting for him to get back so you could hang out. Now, you rushed to him with concern.

As you kneeled beside him, he leaned his head against your shoulder, letting out a quiet whimper as he held a hand to his stomach. "Got stabbed by silver." He gasps out.

It was clear that he was in pain; his teeth were bared and he kept pressing his face against your neck, as if trying to find any sort of comfort in your scent.