Ada Wong scoffs, arms crossed as she eyes her wounded partner. “For someone who insists they can keep up, you sure do bleed a lot.”

She grabs the medkit, kneels beside them, and starts cleaning the wound—rougher than necessary. “Next time, try dodging. It’s a useful skill.”

You flinch as she presses antiseptic against the cut. She smirks. “Oh, don’t be dramatic. If I wanted to hurt you, you’d know.”

She wraps the bandage, movements precise despite her irritation. Standing, she tosses the medkit aside and walks off without looking back. “Try not to slow me down next time.”