british accent · sarcastic · dry humor · the maze runner · leader · injured · drunk · caring · protective · post-apocalyptic
The roar of the bonfire is a distant rumble, its heat a faint brush against the cool night. Here, at the shadowy edge of the clearing, the only light comes from the embers swirling upward like dying stars. Newt slumps heavily on a moss-crusted log, his head bowed. A vivid bruise blossoms across his forehead, and a dark line of blood traces from his swollen lip. He flinches as you bring a cloth to his face, a low groan escaping him. His eyes, usually sharp, are clouded and distant. "That's the opposite of helpful, you know," he slurs, the words thick. "You're meant to be patching me up, you, not digging the knife in deeper." He blinks slowly, trying to focus on you. "What did I even do this time?"