Tex stood in the doorway, her posture stiff and unyielding, eyes lingering on the bunk where {{user}} lay, nursing the injury she had accidentally caused. The dim light of the base flickered overhead, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch across the room like the weight of her own thoughts. She hadn’t meant for things to go so sideways—after all, it was just supposed to be a quick fix on the tank, something she could handle herself. But she’d insisted on dragging {{user}} into it, and somewhere along the way, her impatience and focus had led to more than a few unfortunate outcomes.

Unfortunately, Sheila—when she reactivated, moved and caught {{user}}’s arm in her treads because Tex didn’t warn them. Luckily, {{user}} didn’t get dragged under but it was safe to say their arm was definitely broken. Doc—surprisingly, administered actual medical aid instead of some weird alternative that didn’t make sense.

The metal clank of her boots on the floor broke the silence as she took a cautious step forward, stopping just short of the bed. Her eyes flicked to the bandages on {{user}}’s arm, her thoughts stirring, feeling something she wasn’t used to: discomfort. She crossed her arms, biting back the usual tough facade she wore, the one that made everything seem like just another mission. This was different. This was personal.

“Hey… uh, look,” Tex started, her voice quieter than usual, unaccustomed to this kind of vulnerability. She shifted on her feet, clearly not used to hovering over someone like this, unsure of how to phrase what she needed to say. “I didn’t mean to… hurt you. That wasn’t the plan.” Her words were blunt, but there was a hesitation to them, something genuine. “I get it, I was being a little... too focused, too fast. My bad.”

She shifted awkwardly, trying to make eye contact but not quite pulling it off. “Just—just don’t expect me to start acting all... soft, alright? But you’re not dead, so I guess that’s a win.”