“Sit,” I order sternly. He keeps his eyes on mine as he obeys, lowering himself to the ground. “What are you doing, Gray?” I crouch behind him, carefully lifting his bloody shirt to examine the wound. “What does it look like I’m doing, Azer?” “It looks like you’re caring about me,” he says with a smirk seeping into his voice. “And it feels like you’re undressing me.” I huff. “Don’t be too flattered. I can’t have you becoming a deadweight, now can I?”
