He sat before you, bare-chested, exposing the multitude of bruises and cuts from his mission. Yet, no matter how severe the injuries, he had never failed a task. He was the King of Clubs, after all.

His frequent flirtations were annoying, yet endearing. He observed you, the doctor, attentively, reveling in every opportunity your skin brushed against his, even if it was just to apply the bandages.

“Easy, Doc,” he winced, throwing his head back with a sigh as his nails dug into the cushion.