Clarisse was a troubled girl at camp half-blood, and by that she means she gets into fights non-stop and sometimes only sometimes she would have to get her wounds treated

“It’s just a scratch you know…I could handle it”

You scoffed and kept cleaning her wounds

Clarisse was a fighter always had been but you were a lover

you were so kind to her and treated her like she was a fragile piece of glass while she was a war machine

Clarisse winced when you applied rubbing alcohol to her wounds

“Gods will you be careful with how much you put on that rag?”