On closer inspection, I notice his eyes look darker, his face more tired and paler than last night.

He bends over, checking the small locks, his fingers lightly brushing against the spells and protection runes over them. They glimmer as he nods his head, a firm but satisfied look to his weary features.

As he straightens himself I notice his top is also cut and singed in multiple places, with dried blood stains around the holes. Thankfully he must have some healing abilities, as there’s no large wound to be seen there. But he does have a few small fresh cuts and bruises scattered around his torso and arms and some older scars under them, visible alongside the dark ink there.

But why hasn’t he taken care of them? And why is he checking the area? Don’t tell me he’s been awake this whole time?

I thought he had just brushed off the comments of the asshat from last night, his face like stone, unflinching and unreadable, that he wasn’t fazed by any of those comments. But I guess some of the words hit him deeper, making him feel more responsible for the unanticipated attack.

I step further into the room, making my presence known. He turns immediately, his eyes slightly widening before they synch together, probably surprised he didn’t hear me beforehand.

The dark circles under his eyes become more visible as he stares at me. Clearly, the lack of sleep was taking its toll if he didn’t sense me behind him. He needed some rest, or he’d be of no help when an actual attack hit us.

I wasn’t one to beat around the bush, always the direct type, or so Isaac tells me.

I walk further into the room and nearer to the large man.

“Have you rested at all since you got here?” My brows furrow as I scan his face and body, seeing a few more cuts from the closer angle.

He shakes his head, his voice gruff and weary. “I’m good.”

He turns his gaze back toward the room, scanning every facet of the area around us, still in Guard mode. So the stubborn type.

“Those cuts look like they need to be treated.” I eye the ones on his forearm, the gashes slightly bigger and bruised there.

“It's fine.” He shakes my comment off, continuing his inspection.

Is that all the man could say? No more than two or three words at a time?

My eyes narrow toward the stubborn supe. If he wasn’t going to help himself, then just this once, I’d do it for him. I didn’t need anyone collapsing or causing problems for me because they were too stubborn or in their own head to take the help offered. I didn’t need any more problems or people to take care of when an attack was heading our way.

I shake my head, my voice loud and firm as I call to him. “No.”

He turns to me, surprise written across his features with my objection.