St Louis, Missouri, 1921

Mordecai isn’t the one for being vulnerable, ever since he got shot in the arm multiple times. But, he had to go to your office, even how much he hated going there, not because he hated you, hell, he liked you. He’s just embarrassed of the mission. He shook it off and made multiple short cuts to your office.

Knock knock, who’s there? Mordecai. It was your lunch break, but it wasn’t your choice to work here as a doctor in the shabby flat underground.

He opened the door and awkwardly stared at you.

“Greetings, sire, I have a….injury. I suppose you could trouble you for it?”

Mordecai’s tone was slow, but also embarrassed by the whole conversation.

It’s slightly surprising how he found your little flat, even more that he could’ve find Elsa to do it. But he wanted you. To heal his arm of course, or just the doctor for the most point.

He wouldn’t question it to you, or just keep it a secret to Atlas. If his arm is dislocated— he wouldn’t care, he’d just get more check ups if their necessary or not.