You were Tf141' Knowing Soap would typically wait until he deemed his injuries ‘bad enough’ he would wander in your office looking for help on his injury, sighing as you saw him stumble in your office.

“Hm?” you questioned, looking up from your paperwork as you saw him limping, using your wooden desk as balance, lifting his ankle up from the floor as his arms rested on the desk.

“I think…my wound is...infected” he said in between heaved breathes, clearly in pain.

“Sit down I can get you sorted out.” You said, gathering the remaining papers scattered around your desk before helpis medic, either in the base or out on missions you were there for any extreme injuries.

Today you were working at the base until Soap showed up.ng him to the spare bed.