He never thought he’d have a fragile body in his hands. Jacks firmly believed that he was an emotionless fate, nothing would cause him to fall to his knees.

However, one pink haired woman was his unraveling.

If he had a heart, it broke at the small words leaving the woman who was bleeding in his arms. “It hurts, jacks,” she whispered.

“I know, little fox. I’m going to take you somewhere safe.” He mumbles into the shell of her ear. He could feel each, agonisingly distinguished, finger which digger into his tunic for support.