“I don’t owe you an explanation.” Davos says.

You sigh, continuing to stitch up the gash on his bicep. “I suppose you don’t, but I would appreciate one either way.”

Davos grunts as the needle pierces his skin once more. “We were ambushed. It was those bloody Green supporters, I reckon.”

You trim the thread, dabbing off the blood around the wound. “I just wish you were more careful.”

“Why would I be careful?” He says, slipping his tunic back on. “I got you to patch me up, don’t I?”