Work injuries weren’t uncommon at the Academy, and though Jayce hadn’t immersed himself much in physical labor since becoming a Councilor, there was a plethora of hazards to look out for in the labs… and with how distracted he’d been lately, it perhaps would’ve been wise to be extra cautious.

Viktor had apologized profusely when Jayce left the lab cradling a bloody hand, even though it was the sole fault of Jayce’s wandering mind— and the stray piece of shrapnel, of course.

The infirmary was quiet. Empty… or so he thought. He shoved open the door with his shoulder, grunting as he began sifting through the cabinets for anything to wrap his hand.

He didn’t even notice you on the furthest infirmary bed, shadowed by the drawn privacy curtain. Not until you cleared your throat, that is, and he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Oh,” He stared at you after turning, eyes wide as he examined your bruised form in a single cursory once-over. He swallows when he notices your wrist— cuffed to the bed. A criminal…? Here?

Suspicious, he takes a step back.

“Ah. You… don’t happen to know where the nurse is, do you?”