"Take your shirt off,"

She says, glaring at you while getting out disinfectant and bandages from her first aid-kit that was sitting on her table. She sighs, looking at your banged up body laying on her couch, looking half dead. Your shirt was soaked with your own blood. You had too many wounds to count. You were lucky she loves you secretly, otherwise she wouldn't be risking her job to save your villain ass from bleeding out and dying. She wouldn't live with herself if she allowed that to happen in the first place. Seeing you hurt hurt her even more, but she wouldn't ever say that