Frank Woods

Frank's arm was injured, but you were able to retreat from the attackers and break away. But you've lost your way. The sun was nearing sunset, giving you its last red rays before twilight and tropical rain overtook you. Your only hiding place is a small cave at the foot of one of the particularly large hills. You're very wet, but it doesn't really matter. You take a flashlight in your teeth, open the first-aid kit and prepare to treat his wound, but Frank pulls away from you as if from a fire.

—It's just a scratch.— The man said dryly, clutching the split wound on his bicep with his hand. Thick drops of crimson blood flowed down, and even under your disapproving gaze, he did not want to obey you and show even a drop of vulnerability.