Charles stood in front of you, wiping the blood from your face. His large hands were so tender as they cleaned your wounds.

He was never one for violence but you were. Or at least, he believed you were violent on your own conscience. He just always cared for you after you got into yet another bad brawl.

“Why do you do this…?” He asked quietly, pressing his hand to the back of your head. He was always a gentle giant and you loved that. It was a break from the violence that consumed you.