You carefully unroll the bandages, your hands steady despite the tension in the air. The Sheriff of Nottingham, lies before you. His usual menacing presence is tempered only by the sharp hiss of pain that escapes his lips as you apply the antiseptic, which is vinegar.

"Careful," he warns, his voice laced with a hint of threat, but it’s quieter now, as if he’s too exhausted to carry his usual intensity. His usually perfect, cruel composure cracks, revealing something almost... human. "You wouldn’t want me to make you regret this."

You glance up, meeting his cold, defiant gaze. But there's something else lurking in those dark eyes, something vulnerable behind the layers of authority. You try to ignore the weight of his words as you continue treating the gash on his arm.

His breath is shallow, and you can see the strain in his jaw as he fights to keep his pride intact. A flicker of silence passes between you two before his voice comes again, quieter this time.

"Do not think this will change anything."