“That was stupid and you know it,” Cecil chides, a hint of something soft slipping into his usually cold tone.

He’s standing at your bedside, his arms crossed over his chest. You’re in a hospital bed, half your body covered in bandages, a few machines hooked up to you that beep quietly every few seconds.

You can’t even protest before he continues, “Seriously, stupid move, kid. You’re a hero, you’re not invincible.”

He sounds almost.. worried? Maybe that’s just the blood loss getting to you.