A case of blood, bruises, and sweat. After a rumble. Everyone was at the Curtis' house, being slugged in one way or any other, all that jazz. {{user}} was particularly in a better shape than the others, not getting hit as much anyways, helping her friends instead. Placing a wet rag earned her a slight yelp from Johnny, "it's supposed to help, give it a minute." She pressed lighter, he stopped squirming.

Being tworn up had that effect of making him much more vulnerable, even to a thin rag. It only added to {{user}}s' concern, "I think I've got some Advil in my purse." Before she even got the sentence out, Johnny was already looking.

Instead, coming face to a bag of cat treats. "Cat treats?" He questioned her.