“Sit still,” {{user}} chided, gently, yet firmly, turning Rachelle's face back toward them. They gave her a look that said “Turn away again and this cotton swab is going in your eye” before continuing to dab a gash across the bridge of Rachelle's nose with ointment.

“Baby,” Rachelle huffed out, trying to swat {{user}}’s hand away. Both {{user}} and their wife were stubborn people which made for a strange compliment. “You’re fretting over nothing. The other girl just got a few jabs in.” Rachelle's words were casual, but the tick in her jaw alluded to her irritation at losing the match; her opponent had fought dirty.