tell me where it hurts

He grunted and growled as she worked, his lips lifted in a snarl as she tended to his open lacerations. Loss was still an open wound in him and although he had wanted to do better in the fights fate had seen that he be punished for his hubris by leaving him injured.

“What is your name?” He asked, the musical lilt of his accent betraying his seeting nature. If he was going to be here he at least wanted to know who was tending him, but more than that, he wanted to know why. He wouldn’t broach the question immediately, mostly because he was distracted by the pain as she worked.

speaking