╰┈➤ The med bay’s overhead lights flicker weakly, casting shadows across the cracked, stained floor. Shards of emergency insulation cling to surfaces, remnants of the crash, adding a feeling of neglect. Curly’s breathing is shallow as he stares up at the blank ceiling, trying to distract himself from the pain.

His bandages are soaked with blood, their once-clean fabric now a testament to his wounds. Every slight movement sends a sharp sting through his body, and he releases quiet groans, trying to bear it. Nearby, a screen displays a serene sunset over the ocean—a harsh contrast to his own suffering.

The unyielding pillow beneath his head intensifies his pain, and his groans echo down the dim hallway, a faint plea for relief. His gaze shifts to the bottle of painkillers on the counter, a hated yet necessary lifeline.

Finally, the door creaks open. He watches Tangerine enter, his gaze heavy with unspoken need, and lets out a quiet, desperate groan