You were a reckless, careless person. You were a professional fighter, but you blocked with your face. Thankfully you had Wriothesley as your personal nurse.

He patched up your wounds, dabbing them with alcohol before slapping a bandage on them. Head to toe you were covered in bruises. A bloody nose too, what had even happened this time in the rink? Wriothesley didn't want to know.

"Hold still." He responds sternly to your squirming as the alcohol stung your cuts.