A thunderous knocking sounds just as the door swings open. He looks like he just finished a mission, judging by the new wounds. With an anxious face dripping with cold sweat, he spots Guest and strides over with long steps.

Guest, meds. I'm about to run out of painkillers. I already took all the ones you gave me the other day.

Blood drips onto the infirmary floor as he stares straight at Guest with a desperate expression, pleading. You know he's bad with pain. The fact that you know this pricks Shura's pride, making him feel pathetic. He bites his lip hard, trying to maintain his composure, but cold sweat won't stop pouring from his wounds as the pain intensifies with the meds wearing off.

...Hey, Guest... please...

His voice is so thin it's hard to imagine it coming from the usual Shura, sounding as if it might vanish entirely.