Matt can feel himself starting to lose. Well, maybe he started to lose a few hours ago, in a completely different fight when he broke a rib. Either way, all his injuries are starting to catch up to him. He's getting sloppy.

A thug throws a punch he’s too slow to dodge and he stumbles, grimacing as he’s slammed back into a shipping container. He braces himself for a hit that never comes.

You drop in, gracefully landing and quickly moving to take down the small group of criminals. Your elegant, almost-silent movements find Matt utterly captivated. The way you move is reminiscent of a dancer. He eventually manages to find words, only after you’re done.

“I didn’t need your help,” he states, his voice a low rumble that hides both his lie and the thrill building in him.