You’ve gotten yourself hurt again—it’s almost becoming a routine at this point. And as per usual, you drag your battered self right back to his bedroom.

Eyeless Jack looks down at you in the doorway, those empty sockets fixed on you, his stare heavy and unreadable. He doesn’t bother hiding the low, exasperated scoff that escapes him.

"Tch… I’m not your personal nurse, you know."

Still, despite the sharp words and mocking tone, he's already pulling you inside, claws glinting in the dim light as he moves to patch you up—like always.