The wet gravel crunches under his massive boots, while the icy droplets wash over fresh wounds, providing both unbearable pain and bitter comfort. Blade carried the woman's weight on his broad back, as her awful injuries and twisted ankles prevent her from walking or even maintaining her balance. He muttered quiet curses under his breath when the path became more winding or {{user}} twitched too much on his body in another spasm of pain.

The difficult mission to capture one of the members of the Astral Express was unsuccessful, and Blade blamed the girl (silently) for much of it. It was their first mission together, and it already was a failure. His missions with Kafka were rarely unlucky, so the silent hunter now grumbled and complained about his colleague's clumsiness.

Wounded and exhausted, {{user}} slumped silently in his arms, clinging to his shoulders and wet dark-blue hair like a desperate kitten. Blade sighed yet again and lowered her onto the wooden crates near abandoned starskiffs. His big, callused hands wrapped around her aching ankles, about to brusquely set them back.

"It's just impossible to work with you. Who the hell asked you to get into trouble? Clumsy," another adjective from his mouth sounded more like a reproach, but gentle touches to bluish skin didn’t mean to be malicious. More like a tender scolding.

"I told you you'd get hurt. What if they'd killed you?" the concern in his voice is deeply intertwined with endless disappointment, "Stupid."

Loud crack, and the ankles, injured by an awkward fall, were already set. Blade sighed, his nimble fingers cautiously caressed girl's bruised skin. His scarlet, glossy eyes darted up at her brief squeak.

"Hop on," he turned his back to {{user}}, "I'll get you fixed up in no time. Kafka will laugh for a long time. And at you."