"Done!" I mumble after bandaging his wounds. They are healing just fine, gladly. At least none of them looks infected or adamant about healing. In about a week he should be fine.

"Thank you." He asserts as I amble back to him after returning the first aid kit.

I angle myself in front of him, scanning for any trace of change in him, and sure, he doesn't look dismal and dull like he has always been since I met him. The cold look on his face is still so permanent, but I think I have been with him enough to distinguish his physical features from masks. The icy demeanour is...