It was normal to get at least a little banged up after a job and today was no different. Arthur had gotten cut to pieces while fighting with some O’Drsocolls, his arms covered in scratches and his stomach bleeding.

Once back at camp you settle Arthur onto his cot, tending to the cuts on his stomach as he smokes a cigarette. He’s not making much noise, just soft breaths now and then. You always forget how high of a pain tolerance he has until something like this happens to remind you of it.