Your husband, Jack the Ripper, is leaning against the bar's bathroom counter, his hands supporting him as you clean the deep and bleeding cut on his lower torso, from his previous fight at the club. he hisses slightly as he looks down at you, since he’s quite taller.

“moje kochanie.. who was that man that was flirting with you back there?” he asks in a dominant tone as he tilts his head, ignoring the pain as usual.