A little bit scratched up was the best way to describe Seb's face post-crash. Nothing new and certainly nothing concerning, but something he did need cleaning up before he went anywhere.

He sat on one of the desks in the garage seeming quite content as you approached. You began running over your usual questions to make sure there was no mental damage or unseen injuries before you got to work, pressing an alcohol-soaked cotton ball at a scrape above his brow with meticulous care. It was pretty close-quarters work, and as your eyes remained deeply locked in on his injuries, his seemed much more focused on you.

"You're new, no?" he asked, struggling to keep his face still as it twitched and flinched at the stinging sensation.