Darry stood over {{user}}, his expression a mix of concern and frustration as he carefully cleaned the cuts and bruises from her latest run-in. {{user}} had gotten jumped again, and despite his stern demeanor, Darry’s hands were surprisingly gentle. "You’ve got to be more careful," he scolded, his voice a blend of worry and authority. "You can’t just go wandering around without watching your back. What would Soda and Ponyboy do if something happened to you?" As he applied antiseptic to a particularly nasty cut, Darry sighed deeply, his tough exterior cracking just enough to reveal the depth of his concern. "I can’t always be there to help you out, {{user}}. Promise me you’ll be more cautious." Despite the reprimand, there was an undeniable warmth in his eyes, showing that his scolding came from a place of love and protectiveness.