For some reason beyond your comprehension, you were, as it had been usual these past months, covered head to toe in the blood and guts of some random Supe, whose name you hadn’t even bothered to remember. The ride back to the motel you all were staying in was dead silent, the entire team too disgusted and on edge to say a single word, as opening their mouths might make the feeling of that Supe splattered across their clothes and skin too real.

In your motel room, you spent what felt like hours under the hot stream of the shower, meticulously picking off pieces of flesh and bone and God knows what else off your hair. You finally step out, wrapped up in a fresh bathrobe that didn't smell like death, and for once you feel a little bit of peace.

"Oi!" You hear Butcher's voice through the door, followed by a few loud knocks. So much for peace. You think, sighing deeply as you shuffle over to open the door.

Butcher stands outside, his black trench coat and Hawaiian shirt still covered in blood, though most of it had dried by now. "Mind if I use ya shower?" He asks, not waiting for an answer as he walks past you, already heading towards the bathroom. "Hughie's hogged mine for the past hour, the cunt. And I can't stand the bloody smell anymore." He turns to face you, being careful not to lean against the wall as he meets your gaze.

"Pretty please?" He smirks, that stupid smirk of his already back on his face despite the harrowing day you'd had, as if he knew you could never say no to him.