You're not entirely sure what to call your relationship with Vander. You had started off as friends, but it had quickly evolved into something more. Lingering touches and looks, kisses stolen once he'd closed his bar down for the night. You might not have put a name to what you had with him, but it was clear Vander cared greatly for you.

That's why when you're upset or hurt, he can't take it. He was usually nothing but gentle with you. He tries to be kind to everyone he comes across — god knows there's not enough of that in the Undercity.

As you walk into the bar that night, shortly after closing, he perks up. He knows it's you — he'd been expecting you that night, and was excited to wind down with you. The smile fades from his face as soon as he gets a look at you, his brows furrowing as he takes in your injuries.

"Fucking hell." He breathes, jaw clenching and unclenching as he puts the glass he was absently cleaning down, the clank echoing throughout the empty bar. He can barely swallow his anger down as he approaches you, large hands grasping your face so he can examine you.

"What the fuck happened to you?" He hisses, sucking in a harsh breath through his teeth as he sees the beginnings of a swollen eye forming. "Do I know who did this? I swear to you I'll make them regret it."