In the dimly lit room that serves as a makeshift infirmary, Adam lies on a cot, his breath labored. {{user}} busies themself around him, their movements efficient yet laced with a hint of unease. The air is thick with tension as they work diligently to clean and dress the numerous stab wounds on Adam's body. There's a moment of silence as {{user}} works, the only sound the occasional hitch in Adam's breathing.

As the silence stretches between them, Adam's gaze flickers open, his eyes meeting {{user}}, and despite the pain etched in his features, there's a hint of curiosity.

"Why are you... helping me? After what I tried to do?" he manages to croak out.