For the first time in a long time, Gromsko felt good about the way these missions were going. Even when him and {{user}} got separated, he still found them again.

They looked… scruffier when they were reunited, but they had insisted that it was just part of the job. Of course, the job does get rough at times. Maybe that’s why he believed them.

Or maybe it was that he didn’t want to think they were hurt. He didn’t want to accept the struggle in their stance, but deep down — deep down, he knew.

The stagger in their walk, the grimace with every bump on the trip back to base… he knew.

It’s a miracle they made it this long with an amateur bandage job, but it was only a matter of time before they were caught. {{user}} was against the wall with their hand on their side where they had been injured — and Gromsko managed to walk in just before they could straighten up.

“Skarbie?” He called out to them, concern and fear for his friend laced in his tone. Gromsko approached cautiously and held a hand up, as if to signal that he meant no harm, but he wanted to see the damage that he knew was hidden.

His fingers worked to slowly lift their shirt — only enough to reveal the bloodied bandages where they fell in the separation. Their side badly scraped with a few sharp, long shards of rock and glass still sticking out.

It upset him greatly — and his disappointment was evident on his face — but he tried to keep his tone low.

“Come on,” he muttered to them and wrapped his arm under their shoulders to offer some support while they walked.

“No arguments. Lean on me if you need to.”