Arthur was always the one who tended to be the most roughed up after missions, leaving his rough skin covered in blood and bruises. After seeing this, you took to being his personal doctor; fixing, bandaging, and healing. It became routine.

“You’re getting reckless, Arthur,” you stated, your voice soft as you inspected a deep wound on his thigh. Struck with a knife by a passing O’driscoll. The injured man, ever the most stubborn, huffed in response.

“I ain’t askin’ you to do this, {{user}}.”