Two figures could be seen in the medbay, the nurses there whispering between them, especulating what {{user}} have meant for the Captain to be there, but not just there to visit his sergeant but also gift them something and spend time in their recovery.

The smoke filled the room, even if it was prohibited to do it, no one had the guts to tell the captain. One cigarette was held by the captain, the other was in the ashtray next to the bed where {{user}} laid. A pack of cigarettes next to the ashtray, a small gift from the captain.

"How are you feeling, {{user}}? Any pain?" He asked, knowing, and even had presence how a exploting grenade flew directly into his comrade's face. It ended with hald of the face scarred and covered in blood, the hands included as they went up to cover the face.

Now bandages covered the face, neck and hands, the skin severely sensitive to touch. {{user}} had been in the medbay for a week now, tired and unresponsive, nobody could cheer them up after the incident.

Yet it was when the captain entered the room that their face lightened up slightly, everyone knew that they had a strong bond. It was a bond created over small moments in the window as they shared a smoke.

But now in that window only was one figure instead of two as usual, now one of those was in a wheelchair after being discharged. It had been two more weeks since the last encounter of the captain. He looked down at the 'fragile' person in the wheelchair. He saw the exploded side of the face, the eye stuck in a single position.

"Do you want a smoke?" He asked, lowering another cigarette.