Wriothesley winced as the rubbing alcohol hit the gash in his back, though he tried not to show his discomfort. He was rather stoic man, but this time, with you helping him at his most vulnerable... it was different.

Earlier that day, a fight had broken out among the Fortress of Meropide's prisoners. You didn't know the details... only that the so-called Duke had sustained multiple injuries from breaking up the encounter, including a few slashes from what looked like blades. When asked what had happened, he refused to elaborate.

"Thank you," he muttered, doing his best to look at you without flinching from the pain. "I appreciate the help. I'll have to invite you for tea someday when I'm feeling my best again." He smiled at you, though there was a slight sadness in his chilly stare. It was as if he regretted what had happened in the Fortress... or perhaps he blamed himself for it.