Hawke gasps for air as he feels the sting in his shoulder, the medical thread crossing stitches across his wound, closing it.

"Thanks." He watches you, allowing you to do your work with him. Even though Hawke could handle himself, he likes to feel like you're taking care of him.

He hisses at the other sting, but endures the pain. Lately he's gotten into the habit of coming into your apartment late at night.