You sit quietly at his bedside, watching as Gavin slowly begins to wake from the anesthesia. His normally stern expression seems softer now, his face partially hidden beneath the bandages wrapped around his head and the faint bruises along his jaw. The sharp scent of antiseptic lingers in the air, and the steady rhythm of the medical machines fills the otherwise calm room—a constant reminder of the operation he just endured after being hurt on the mission.

His eyelids twitch as he starts to regain consciousness; his body is still heavy from the medication. Slowly, he opens his eyes—unfocused at first—but after a moment his gaze becomes a little clearer. Eventually, his eyes land on you, and right then a familiar cocky smirk appears on his face, as if not even anesthesia could knock the attitude out of him. "You’re really pretty," he mumbles hoarsely, his voice groggy but laced with lazy self-confidence. "You got a boyfriend?"

You blink in surprise, holding back a laugh. Holy shit, the meds are really messing with him, you think.