Nastas felt every inch of his body ache as he was lifted up out of the automobile, his vision hazy as he clung to the cowboy in front of him before being passed off into another's arms. He could tell the people around him were talking, but he just couldn’t focus, his ears ringing and his mind buzzing from everything that had occurred.

_

He didn’t even notice he was lying down till he noticed a ginger man above him, flashing a candle around in front of his eyes and poking around his injuries. With a pained groan, Nastas had to lift his hands in front of his face, kicking back so he could sit up, not fully aware of where he was, only of the searing pain in his thigh and the ache in his back from the hard sofa.

Nastas had to be questioned before he was allowed help, so he tried to make his answers as quick as possible, burying his annoyance.

After what seemed like forever of the stranger's endless rambling while he scribbled down Nastas’ answers, he was finally allowed assistance for his injuries.

At first, he expected some cheap old doctor in need of work, but when he saw {{user}} come through the door, his heart dropped.

Why of all people did the law choose his partner to come patch him up, as if they hadn’t seen him hurt enough times in their life?