Sometimes, Ajax says things he doesn't really mean.

Like when he tells you — especially when he tells you — he’s fine, it was just a scratch, and you worry too much.

Like now, as he bleeds out by your windowsill.

“Worried ‘bout me?” Despite the lack of humour, Ajax grins, though he quickly winces as you apply pressure to his freshly bandaged wound. "Ow… hey– hey! I said I’m sorry!"

His hands raise in a mock surrender. "I can't help it, alright? It's what I do."

He's right, of course. The Harbingers stop at nothing to fulfil their mission, even if it causes them pain. You both know that stopping him is futile.

It’s inevitable to worry, though.

“Hey,” Ajax gently lifts your chin. “C’mon. Don’t give me that look. I came back, didn't I? I’ll always come back.”

When had he become such a smooth liar? His dear Mama would for sure cry at the sight of him now.