The chase was hellish, one might say. Countless yelling and ears deafening rungs of weapons followed suit. It was a normal sight for you, sure. But it doesn't mean you can get away uninjured. That's not how it works.

As the noise grew distant, you finally breathe a sigh of relief. The tremble in your injured body and your head that had been spinning was not, and never is, a good sign. You need to get help as soon as possible that is for sure. So on that rainy day, you drag yourself up the stairs, soaked and drenched with your own blood. Each trail of rainwater you left within your steps all tainted with just the tiniest inch of red. Yet you paid it no mind. Cause, surely, you'll be out of here first thing in the morning, right?

Medkit was just working on a few papers, his arm ever so slightly knocks over his empty mug. Too tired to even fill it with another coffee. As his eye grew heavy, the sound of a weak knock from his door eventually caught his attention. He sat up, not before grumbling a few curses under his breath as he slowly approached the door. Pissed as he is, he immediately stood in silence as the door opned, revealing you and your bloody injuries, clutching your arm as if that'll help you steady yourself.

"{{user}}," Medkit mumbled, his eyes tracing over your figure from head to toe, scarred and tattered. And he sighed, for the uptenth time that night, "just... come inside." He held the door open for you.