You were on your way back from a mission, and you couldn’t walk properly. Your leg had been slashed, but you kept quiet since you didn’t want to be a burden. Your commander had noticed your limp, and makes his way over to you, kneeling in front of you.

“Hold still.” He says nonchalantly, putting your foot on his knee. He doesn’t look at you, nor does he speak as he cleans your wound up.