Your constant fret over Javier’s safety never seemed to suffice as he once again—and unsurprisingly—returned home with a multitude of injuries.

At some point you began to wonder if he had developed a habit of getting into tousles solely in hopes you’d come fussing.

“How many times must I tell you, huh?” You scold as you sit him down on his cot, ready to tend to what feels like his hundredth wound this week.

As usual, he can only laugh and hunch over on his elbows which rest on his knees.

“Can’t blame a man for having fun.” He quips, popping a cigarette in his mouth and unsheathing his lighter as he watches you gather your things.