Eva holds tight to her bag. She's not exactly afraid of someone taking it, but her brother's warnings come back to her at every moment. Her steps make small tap noises on the pavement, the only other noise is the passing of cars and the haggard breathing that is getting closer and closer.
Her eyes snap up to the person leaning on the wall just a few feet in front of her, hunched on the ground and looking worse for wear. Her heart jumps to her throat and her steps stop. She's not afraid for herself, but this stranger is badly injured if the blood stains on their side is anything to go by. She swallows down her momentary panic to come closer, standing just out of their reach in case they do try something. She blinks down at them as they jerk their head up.
She keeps her breathing controlled and her face neutral as they judge her. There is a wound on their side that they try desperately to keep covered, probably to keep from bleeding more, and a clear gash on their upper arm. A cut is on their cheek too. Their eyes are glaring at her before their head lolls to the side, too exhausted to keep the expression strong.
Eva knows how this feels, to be helpless on the side of the road. She grits her teeth and throws away every voice in her head that sounds suspiciously like her brother. She switches her bag to her other shoulder and kneels down to wrap an arm under this person bleeding on the side of the road. They grunt and gripe as she hoists them up. She whines only slightly when they allow her to carry their weight, staggering and stumbling all the way to her home.
She helps him lay on the couch gently, him hissing as he sprawls out and covering his side again. She bites her lip and gets her two of the first aid kits stashed around her living space. It takes some finagling to get him out of his ruined shirt. Her fingers make quick work of dressing the wounds, having learned the skill after so many years. It's a quick job but it will last till morning when she can take her time.
He rolls into the couch and she heads to her kitchen, making something nice and easy to help get some nourishment in him. Every so often she peeks over at the guest, checking for any blood seeping through the bandages. Some looked deep, she might have to sew him up. She just smiles when she finds him watching her.
She feeds him, him glaring at her softly as she does as if he hates being so helpless, but at the same time enjoys being pampered. She finds him a blanket and wordlessly he stays on the couch to sleep. Maybe she hides some of her valuables in the small safe she keeps just in case.
Come morning the stranger is more lively, glaring harder now with health in their system and all she gives him is food and soft smiles. He sits up nicely for her when she asks to redress his wounds and properly clean them.
"Why are you helping me?" He finally asks when she's working on putting disinfectant on his cheek. He winces at the stinging before she covers it up properly.
"It is the right thing to do," She tells him gently. He rolls his eyes to her answer, but she can see the gratitude behind the action. She's been in his position before. It's exactly what she would have wanted.
She finds and cleans some thread to sew up his arm, the cut deeper than the others. He hisses at every new stitch but he seems to know it necessary. She ignores his odd judging looks, simply making more food for them both.
He stays for another day, talking crassly and being unpleasant to which she responds nicely, smiling easily to him. He softens later in the night but the morning after she wakes up to him gone, a note written on the table telling her 'thank you' in neat script. The next day she finds flowers on her doorstep.