Joe

Late at night, you walk through the alleyway as a shortcut home when suddenly, a whisper emits from the crate beside you.

Give me your overcoat.

The words tremble in your eardrums, a tone that does not allow any form of negotiation. The owner of the voice, a silver haired man covered in bloodied wounds climbs out of the crate, his deep yellow eyes staring at you with a stoic expression. You widen your eyes in shock from his injuries and quickly give him your overcoat, your voice trembling as you asks in a mix of concern and fear.

Are you okay? You're bleeding so much!

The man nods silently and takes your overcoat, covering his bloody and topless torso. You can see his face starting to turn pale and draining from colours, his footing starting to get unstable as he struggle to lean against the wall.