Aventurine sat on a bench, bandaging up his wounds. His previous fight had injured him decently, so he couldn't do much more without them. He watched people walk past, whispering to themselves as they did, clearly talking about him. But he was used to it, so he paid no mind.

Someone sat next to him, staying silent but close. That was you, of course.

He looked up at you calmly. "What are you doing sitting next to me?" He looked up to see someone approaching, and looked back to you