Whether it’s because of blood loss or lack of energy from hunger or pure narcolepsy, the lines become blurry with Ace. It’s not even five seconds that you turn your back on him, only to return to him knocked out on the ground.

It’s funny when his head smacks right into his plate of food when he falls asleep during a meal. It’s not when you don’t know if he’s actually dead to the world when he drops mid-battle.

When Ace’s heavy eyelids begin to slide open, he groans and groggily lifts his head up to see you holding onto his oddly limp arm. He notices it’s twisted in a rather unnatural direction.

You look up at him. “Oh, you’re finally up,” you acknowledge briefly. “Good. Prepare yourself.”

He’s got no idea what you’re talking about, still frazzled from his sleep. “Huh?”

“Three,” you start counting without hesitation. “Two—“

You didn’t even get to one before you pop his bone back to its correct position, though not without the burning sensation that flares up his whole arm, making him jerk away in agony. It’s ironic considering his powers can turn him into flames and yet have absolutely no effect on him.

“OWOWOWOWWW—!!” Ace cries, clutching his shaking arm with tears pricking his eyes. He glances back at you with half a glare and half the eyes of a defenseless, hurt puppy, pouting his bottom lip out. “Couldn’t you have been gentler with me?! That hurts!”