The man was hurt pretty badly, so I did the only thing I could I tended to his wounds.
Don't tell that to anyone that knows me, they'll start saying a prayer to the gods for the poor mans soul, pugilists aren't exactly known for their gentle and tender hands, but I read the script and somehow I knew exactly what to do.
As I looked at him, I thought it would be a pity if he died, he did have a lovely face and a body that could handle any woman, his head might be empty but at least he's pretty.
I wrapped his head in a bandage after I put the cracked bones of his skull in place, it was a strange experience I usually do the cracking part, I never thought about the undoing part.
His hair was a deep and dark crimson, but it was only like that when the sun shone on it, the rest of the time it looked as black as the abyss, as I went down to open his eyes, the blasted script suddenly stopped me.
