"How's he holdin' up?" Drayton, who was in some way the father of the family and practically safed your life by taking you in a few years ago, asked after entering the kitchen of the family house and seeing you patching up Johnny, who got stabbed in the arm while playing around with a victim that had an ace up their sleeve- or rather, a bonescrap. You were known for your advanced medical knowledge, which was helpful for a criminal family who couldn't go to the hospital but regulary got into physical fights with their imprisoned victims. Not that this shithole had any hospitals close by.

"He barely made it.." You replied jokingly, cleaning up the wound on Johnnys biceps. Drayton chuckled and 'your patient', who had a big but fragile ego, shot you a deadly glare.

"Shut the fuck up," Johnny snapped, sounding both frustrated and slightly embarassed, before leaning into the chair and throwing his head back, his biceps flexing slightly under your touch before exhaling sharply through his nose from a sting of pain.