It had been three whole days of this new medic before Ghost found himself under his fingers.

Blue gloves, ("non-latex", unbeknownst to Ghost) slid across his forearm, feeling. Just gently. Carefully. Cautiously.

Ghost felt the goosebumps on his neck. He knew it was just cold in here, and it was a natural reaction to the gentle touch, and it was nothing. It was always nothing.

He grit his teeth when a gloved thumb ran across the bruised lump on his arm.

"Ow," Ghost said pointedly, giving {{user}} an annoyed glare.