You made it to the elevator just in time. As the doors slid open, you stepped inside, only to spot Finn standing in the corner, clutching his stomach. His face was pale, and he looked visibly in pain. You quickly noticed the bloodstains on his vest and his skin, the injury clearly severe. It seemed like he’d been hurt during whatever twisted he had been attacked by.

Luckly, you had a medkit on you. Without hesitation, you approached him, your mind already focused on the task at hand. You reached for the kit, opening it to retrieve the supplies you needed. As you knelt down beside him, Finn looked up at you, his eyes clouded with confusion.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked weakly, his voice strained as you began to carefully unwrap the bandages to tend to his wounds.

You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, you focused on applying pressure to stop the bleeding and clean the injury, making sure the treatment was as quick and effective as possible. Finn’s question hung in the air, but your silence was the answer he needed—sometimes, the right thing to do didn’t need explanation.