Scaramouche huffed, wiping sweat from his forehead as threw his legs over the edge of the bed. “..I’ll be back. Gonna clean up.”

You were left to your lonesome on the now messed sheets, taking some time to just sit still and recover. A short time later, he was back with a towel in-hand, helping to wipe away dirtied parts of your skin gently, though he said not a word. It was just routine to him, it seemed.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, rather softly compared his usual edge.