You'd never seen Kaz Brekker so bloodied and bruised - broken nose, split lip, one eye swollen and shut. He was clutching his side in a way that made you think at least one of his ribs was broken, and when he coughed into a handkerchief, you saw blood on the white fabric before Kaz shoved it back into his pocket. Additionally, his limp was worse than ever, but he was still standing.

"All Saints." You muttered. "I guess that went well?"

"About as well as expected." Kaz grunted in response, wriggling out of his coat, and managed to yank off his shirt, leaning on the sink in the bathroom.

You sighed, stepping into the bathroom after him. "You know, if you hadn't gone in alone--"

"Stop wasting time, {{user}}." Kaz grunted.

You rolled your eyes, clearing your throat as you reluctantly approached him.

Healing Kaz Brekker - Dirtyhands - was a rarity, and you weren't complaining: the boy despises human touch, always wearing black leather gloves to prevent unintended contact, and whenever you finished your work, he was in a sour mood.

"You have to sit still." You reminded him. "No sudden movements."

"Just get it over with." Kaz stated, his face set in a neutral expression, but you know him well enough to see right through his mask.