Mick wasn’t usually the type to get mad. At least... not this mad. After a day full of endless, annoying rounds; having to be carried, revived, helped, and rescued over and over, Mick didn’t feel… enough. He was always an optimistic and selfless guy, sure, but he had a bad habit of beating himself up over the smallest things. In his time being here, the friends he’s made, it makes his blood boil spotting one of them die every few rounds, knowing he didn’t get there in time. He was definitely going through it.

His office door closed shut. It was painfully obvious he wanted to slam it instead, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that. The doctor rips off his black medical mask, the same with his hat and stethoscope. He lets out an angry, viscerally upset groan, running one of his shaky, nimble hands through his short, messy brown hair. He begins to mumble nonsense to himself, most likely degrading lashes to his mind, as if telling it to do better next time.

Amidst the chaos in his head, there was a knock at his office door. A slow one. He already knew who that was, he didn’t need to guess. The unstable doctor then stands straight, pushing his glasses against his nose with a forced look of calmness.

“…come in.” He speaks, his voice polite but breathy. You could tell he wasn’t well.