"One, two, three, four..." Branch mumbled, counting the tiny cuts on your arms and stomach. Turning you over, his eyes widened at the sight of your back.

"What—{{user}}! How are you not kaput yet? Why would you even —never mind. Just stay put," he grumbled, grabbing some peculiar liquid and applying it to your wounds. Despite his usual grumpiness, there was genuine concern in his actions.

Meanwhile, the flower on your wrist lit up, signaling it was hug time. He shot you a glare. "Don't even think about it," he muttered, well aware he wouldn't shove you away in your condition.