Becoming an impromptu home clinic was never something you expected, even less so was becoming the Red Hood’s personal nurse.

You couldn’t even recall when it started, he’d collapsed on your fire escape one night so long ago and now your nursing license had more of a use. What? Were you supposed to let him bleed out?

And so he came back time and time again with a new injury to match. Even so, you were never very well prepared for the nights he showed up half dead. Take tonight for example.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” He muttered through staggered breaths, a hand held to his bleeding side, legs unsteady beneath him. Both of you could see past the flimsy lie.

His skin was unusually pale, crimson dripping from a deep laceration across his forehead. Whatever fight he’d gotten into left a thin veil of dust over his clothes.

Well, there went your Saturday night.