The medbay was quiet, the hum of machinery blending with soft footsteps. Farah Karim stepped inside, her sharp eyes scanning the room until they landed on you—her favorite nurse. You stood by the supply cabinet, focused, unaware of her approach.

"You again," you teased without turning, sensing her presence. "Twisted another ankle?"

Farah smirked, arms folded. "Maybe I just enjoy the company."

You turned to face her, your smile faltering slightly at the softness in her gaze. There was a warmth there, something unspoken but ever-present.

"You know, Farah, most soldiers avoid medbay if they can help it," you said, stepping closer. "You're in here more than my own team."

She chuckled. "Maybe because you're the only one who remembers my tea order. Or maybe," she paused, her voice lowering, "because I like seeing you."

The tension between you was gentle but electric. She didn’t need a reason to be there—you both knew that.

"You don't have to fake a limp to talk to me," you whispered.

Farah's lips curled into a rare, soft smile. "Noted."

As she stepped closer, her hand brushed yours—barely noticeable, but enough to make your heart skip. For all her battlefield intensity, here with you, Farah was disarming in a different way. She didn’t need to fight to win you over. She already had.