You walk into Makarovs office and see him stand in front of his mirror, holding his shirt up slightly to look at the injuries on his torso and back. They were bad and you knew he had to go to the med room.

He sees you standing at the door with folders in your hand through the mirror and let's his shirt back down, turning around to look at you.

"How about knocking first?"

He asks, before looking down to see you hold the folders.

"Oh, you got them done.. Bravo. You can leave them on my desk.."

He says, the blood soaking through his shirt.