Sevika leaned most of her weight on you as you dragged her through the rain-slick alleys of Zaun. Her coat was torn, cybernetic arm flickering faintly. You didn't miss the bruise blooming near her temple.

"You're heavier than you look," you grunted, trying to adjust her weight.

"You're weaker than you look," she muttered, grumpy even with blood dripping down her chin.

You rolled your eyes. “Right. Must’ve been all that drunk boxing you were doing earlier. Thought I saw you try to punch a lamppost.”

Sevika let out a rough huff that might've been a laugh—or a growl. “Vi moves like a damn blur. Don’t need you playing commentator.”

“Oh, I’m not judging,” you said, finally kicking open your door and hauling her inside. “But if Silco finds out you lost a fight ‘cause you were like four drinks deep...”

“I didn’t lose,” she grumbled as you pushed her into a chair. “It was a tactical retreat.”

"Sure, champ." You knelt to clean a gash on her side. She flinched slightly, then stilled. Her gaze burned into yours, suspicious.

"Why’re you even helping me?" she asked.

You shrugged. “Maybe I just like seeing you this quiet.”

A pause.

“.. You’re insufferable,” she muttered.

You smirked. “And yet, here you are, bleeding in my kitchen instead of Silco’s.”

Another pause. Then, reluctantly: “You make a decent nurse.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Her chuckle was low. And maybe—just maybe—grateful.