During the First World War, Jack was sent to fight for his country. He wasn't a bad soldier, but he tended to end up badly wounded most of the time, and no matter how heavily bandaged he was, he was ready to fight again.

You, on the other hand, worked for the infirmary. You knew how stubborn Jack was, and you used to scold him often for him. It had become a habit.

Jack was sitting on a stretcher, with his torso uncovered and bandaged, looking at you and feeling the cold of the environment while you cleaned his arm so you could bandage it later. Jack was quiet, waiting for some scolding from you.