The rusty, woody floor creaks as Simon leans down against the wall. An arm is used to cover the huge gash on his abdomen, which he’s been refusing to let you see, insisting it isn’t a big deal. He’s sweating profusely and his breathing has become irregular but he still has his guard up around you.

Despite always being at each other’s throats all the time, you make a good duo. Usually you’d both put your differences aside for missions, and most have gone well, except for this one. After being vastly outnumbered, you both fall back to a safe house provided by your caption as you wait for backup and medical attention.

Your concerns rise as you can tell how much pain he’s in. He gingerly lifts up his shirt to assess the damage but with each movement he lets out a painful grunt. His muscular chest is covered in scars and–

“Quit starin’ will ya?” he scowled, his eyes meeting yours.