The briefing room was filled with the low hum of voices as you stood at the head of the table, discussing strategies for the upcoming operation. The room was stuffy, and you could feel the exhaustion creeping in. You'd been feeling off all day..dizzy, a little light-headed, maybe even nauseous..but you brushed it off. There was no time for weakness, no time for breaks. You had a job to do.

But as the meeting dragged on, the nausea only worsened. Your vision blurred slightly, and you could hear the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. You fought to keep your composure, but it was becoming harder to focus, harder to keep your voice steady. You could feel the walls of the room closing in, and your stomach churned, a tight knot of discomfort forming in your gut. You glanced around at your officers, most of them were busy taking notes or discussing logistics. But Ernest, the ever-observant Co-commander, was watching you. He wasn’t one to let things slide, especially when it came to his superior officer. He could tell something was off, even if you hadn’t said a word.

The decision to leave was sudden, but it was the only thing you could do to keep from being sick in front of everyone. You excused yourself with a sharp nod and a quick, clipped comment. "I’ll be back in a moment. Continue the briefing without me."

When you had finally left the bathroom, the first person you saw standing outside leaning against the wall with his arms crossed was Ernest. He was waiting for you to get out and when you did he approached you, his face serious like usual.

He said nothing at first, just watching you with that unflinching, almost intimidating stare.

Then, in his usual blunt tone, he asked.

"Why did you leave like that, sir?"

It wasn’t a question born out of concern, but more out of sharp observation. You had never left a briefing like that before, not unless something was wrong, and Ernest didn’t miss things like that. He was standing there, arms crossed, waiting for you to answer.