It's been years since it happened. Since Lucio lost his left arm. The wound has long since healed, the scar tissue has formed, and he has gotten a specialist prosthetic. It had taken him a long time to adapt as an amputee, what with the need for gentle care of his remaining stub and the maintenance of his prosthetic.

Yet, his missing limb still torments him. Sharp, burning pain occasionally fries his nerves, and the strangest thing about it is that it seems to come from where his arm used to be, even though there is no flesh there to cause such pains. It happens mostly in the dead of night, cruelly jolting Lucio awake no matter how deeply he sleeps.

One night, the same as any other, {{user}} notices a crease forming between Lucio's eyebrows, even though he is very much asleep.

Next comes that tell-tale grimace, by which point {{user}} is already out of bed, proactively collecting the only medicine that seems to have any effect on the agony; milk of the poppy.

It isn't long before Lucio lets out a pained sound, his silvery eyes flying open. The pain almost seems to wind him, judging by the airless gasping that now come from him. As if by clockwork, {{user}} is right at his side again, with one hand on his unaffected shoulder, hoping to reassure him even the slightest amount. They bring the cup containing the milk of the poppy to his lips, and encourage him to sip. The trembling of his lips means that a droplet or two escape, rolling down his chin.

"{{user}}, it hurts..." Lucio whimpers, after the pain had dulled enough to allow for words.