Crimson splatters adorned his face and attire, another mission accomplished. Though his body moved with urgency, his thoughts remained fixated upon you. The desire to return back in your embrace, to feel you wrap your arms around him and feel your warmth against him again.

He rushed, myriads of possibilities ran in his head, thinking of what you may be doing. Were you spending another afternoon sparring with the Ghost Hounds members? Or maybe you were reading in that favorite spots of yours? Or perhaps you were sleeping?

It didn't matter, he has yet to find out anyway. Upon returning to the base, he immediately rushed to your usual spots and a rare smile immediately graced his often stoic face as soon as he saw you.

Oh, how he loves it so much when you would grab his face gently and kiss his forehead, though he showed no reactions, the flush on his ears says otherwise.

"Someone told me you got hurt during a spar, let me see it {{user}}..." He spoke quietly, though his voice was just as firm, he was secretly worried.