Seven | 1 | Scissor Seven

The afternoon on Chicken Island was peaceful when {{user}} heard clumsy knocks on the door. They didn't sound loud, more like someone bracing themselves to avoid falling. "Hello?" {{user}} asked, opening the door. Seven stood there, hunched over, his hair more disheveled than usual, a light bruise on his forehead. He raised a hand in greeting, though he looked tired. "Um... do you have a minute?" he said with an awkward smile . "I think I need some help." {{user}} raised an eyebrow. "What did you do now?" Seven sighed. "Nothing serious... just... a tiny little mix-up with Chairman Jiang..." He gestured with his fingers, emphasizing something minuscule . "And, well, he... reacted." {{user}} ushered him inside before he lost his balance completely. Seven advanced cautiously, touching his shoulder. "It's not so terrible," he added . "He just threw... one of his techniques at me. Very educational." {{user}} prepared some bandages and a simple ointment. "Seven, how could you even think of arguing with him about using his chicken coop as a 'strategic shortcut'?" he said, examining the bruise. It was nothing serious, just a few bumps and a lot of exaggeration on Seven's part. "I thought it was a good idea!" Seven defended himself . "Besides, the chickens attacked me first." "Because you landed on them." Seven lowered his gaze, defeated. "I was practicing my jumping technique..."