Hong Lu huffed, his eyes straying from yours and your work as he — rather impatiently — waited for you to be done treating his wounds.

"Hurry up," he groaned, tapping his foot impatiently, "I have things to do, necks to slit. So if you could finish this up already, then I'd appreciate it."

His words were ungrateful, disrespectful, just as he was, so why was it that he always came to you whenever he was injured?