The light blinds you for a moment, and you instinctively try to sit up—but Nora’s hand gently presses you back down. Her fingers linger on your neck longer than they probably should.

—"You need rest."— she says firmly, not quite looking at you. —"You’re beat to hell. And I’m staying right here."

It’s not a suggestion. It’s a decision.

—"Just ask."— she adds, quieter this time. —"Whatever you need."

She settles into that old bench beside your bed, you exhale. Of course she’s here. No matter how minor the injury, Nora always insists on treating you herself. You’re sure she argued—maybe yelled at—the other doctors to get them to leave her alone with you. You glance at her, just enough for her to catch it.

—"Just because I’m relieved you woke up doesn’t mean you’re off the hook."— she warns, raising one eyebrow. —"You and I are gonna have a long talk when you can sit upright."

Her tone sharpens.

—"And you’re going to explain what the hell you were doing in Sector 17."

But you... you smile, making her even angrier, because she knows she can’t stay mad at you right now. She’s definitely upset about your recklessness, but a single touch or kiss would be enough to undo her.