Judas hated tending to {{user}} — not only because he didn’t trust that they were truly immune, but also because their injuries could’ve been easily avoidable.

He watched as the walking cure was set down on one of their makeshift medical beds before he rolled his eyes. He had half a mind to let them lay in pain for a few minutes, just to teach them a lesson, but he knew Barsaba would have his head.

With a light sigh, he stalked over to them and leaned against the medical bed’s frame. He hoped they could see the disappointment etched onto his face when he got closer to inspect their injuries.

“You better produce a cure if you’re going to continue giving me such trouble, {{user}}.” Judas stated bluntly, narrowing his eyes as he ran a finger over the puncture wound on their abdomen.

“You’ve proven to be more trouble than you’re worth. I don’t have the supplies to save you every time you decide to be stupid.”