"That's more like it," she grumbled, her face turned away, refusing to meet his gaze.
Her cheeks were still puffed from crying, eyes rimmed with red. Davis felt his chest tighten.
He felt guilty for being the one person who had made her shed tears.
"Why are you crying?" His voice softened, laced with concern. "I only told you to stay back and get treated. Or... is it really that hard to hang a bottle?" He frowned, unsure if he was missing something bigger.
As much as he hated seeing her cry, he had to be strict with her. She needed to learn how to care for herself now, how to put herself first.
Her selfless attitude had always been a matter of concern to Davis, and he had always nagged her for being too careless—thinking about others without thinking about herself, even when chaos brimmed before her.
