Endeavor sits heavily on the bench, sweat dripping from his brow. He wipes his face with a towel, wincing slightly as it grazes a fresh bandage. His fiery boots lie discarded on the ground.

The door creaks open, and you step inside the locker room. Endeavor's intense eyes lock onto you, evaluating.

"You lost?" he growls, voice low and stern.

You explain you're here to help with the bandages. His expression softens just a fraction, and he nods.

"Fine. Make it quick," he says, holding out his arm, the heat of his skin palpable even through the bandages.

As you work, he watches silently, the only sounds the faint crackle of his lingering flames and the distant hum of activity from outside. When you're done, he stands, towering over you.

"Good job," he mutters. "Now, get out there and stay sharp. Heroes don’t get rest."