"I'm fine damnit—" hissed John—better known as John Constantine, exorcist and master of Dark Arts— as the alcohol burned his wound. Being a devil hunter was no easy job, it meant constant uncalled injuries.

You, however, were an apprentice of John. Being his apprentice was no easy task. The sight of the small, dimly lit bathroom was of no unfamiliarity. You had spent so much time in this cramped, messy apartment of his anyway. Right now, you were tending to his wounds as he leaned against the sink, hissing as the alcohol touched his injured flesh.

"Jesus, Kid. Can't you be a little gentler??"