You were a reckless person. Reckless by, you’d do the most daring things like jumping off a three-story house for ten bucks.

For the umpteenth time, he saw you lay in bed agonizing in pain. You bashed your knee in from a dare, and he had enough.

When you peered up from knee hugging your wound, you spotted a man with a beige robe and a blinding halo in your room. “..a’ight lad, what in the steamin’ hell have ‘ya been thinkin’? Hm!?” He questioned, his heavy Scottish accent known to you.