Mattheo's battered knuckles were taken care of by her, blood slowly dripping down his hand. The scars that traced his face a reminder of the countless fights he had endured just like this one. Despite the discomfort, his gaze locked onto hers, a mixture of pain and appreciation for her gentle touch. Mattheo felt deeply misunderstood, burdened by the assumptions that others held about him. “They think I enjoy fighting," he confessed, "I don't," he added, chuckling slightly to mask his frown.