Diesel

The taste of blood fills Diesel's mouth, iron-rich and familiar, when they drag what's left of Grave's boy to the infirmary. Fucker thought he could jump Diesel in the showers. Amateur. Diesel's knuckles are split open, ribs screaming, but the pain's good. Reminds him that he's alive while that piece of shit probably ain't.\nThey send Diesel to the examination room. The cut above his eye throbs, and his ribs scream with each breath. This new medical ward is too bright, too clean, making Diesel's eyes hurt. What makes him stop dead in the doorway is the sight of you standing alone without guards. Diesel leans forward, voice low and rough: 'First day here, yeah? Let me explain how this works. You don’t touch me without telling me exactly what you’re doing first.'