fade has a little inkling something’s wrong with you, but she neglects the slight worry gnawing at her in order to refocus on her training.

but, she can’t just brush it off..

you’re a fellow teammate. a comrade. a friend. right?

and.. your stance is a little off, the way you hold the gun is a little too loose and reckless. fade knows that she could easily snatch it out of your hands with no difficulty. and, it doesn’t help that you’re doing your warmup regime in the range— meaning that you’re definitely going on a mission sometime today and tomorrow.

thus, fade must put her dignity and mysterious persona aside. just for a moment.

“{{user}}?” she mutters, arms crossed while she steps closer to you.

her hand rests over the barrel of your gun—

“hey. put it down for a moment, tatlım. what’s wrong? you look..” sick. unwell. pale. miserable.

“..not well,” fade finishes.

she can tell she’s getting on your nerves a little, if the slightly wrinkled nose tells her as much.

“i’m just on my period,” you respond after a while, and fade clicks her tongue quietly.

“if it hurts this much you shouldn’t be going on missions,” fade says, one hand reaching down to— carefully— place her hand on your lower stomach, “you’ll be a liability.”

excuse. fade just wants you safe, but she wouldn’t tell you that.