The alley is quiet now, the scuffle over, but Reno leans heavily against the wall, his hand pressed to his side where his jacket is soaked dark with blood. He’s wearing that same cocky grin, though it’s tighter than usual, like he’s daring you to make a fuss.

“Relax, it’s just a scratch,” he says, waving you off with his free hand, but his voice is strained, panting slightly. 'Just a scratch.' It's not, both of you know it's not, but he'll be damned if he lets you worry about him.