Soap was a damn good soldier, but today wasn’t his day. He’d gotten shot in the upper arm. Not a fatal wound, but it needed treatment if it were to stay that way.

You were the only one around when in happened, and so you quickly ushered Soap out of the line of fire and into an old building to treat the wound. He was sucking in shallow breaths through his teeth and holding the wound… but only looking at you, with a stupid grin.

“You’re a damn saint, {{user}}. My guardian angel.”