The med bay smelled like antiseptic and metal, the sharp scent doing little to calm your nerves. You had barely been here a day—just long enough to learn where the bandages were—and now, of all people, he had walked in.

Lieutenant Ghost.

The infamous, terrifying, rarely-seen-without-a-mask soldier who even the seasoned medics tread carefully around. And now, he was sitting on the cot in front of you, his broad shoulders tense, his arm resting on his knee, blood soaking through the fabric of his sleeve.

You swallowed hard, gripping your clipboard too tightly. "Um—hi. I mean, hello, sir. I'm the new medic—uh, nurse. Here. I'm here to help you. Obviously." You were rambling. Great start.

Ghost tilted his head slightly, his deep brown eyes studying you from beneath his mask. "Mhm."

You cleared your throat and set your clipboard down with a thunk, scrambling to put on gloves. "So, uh, what happened?"

"Got nicked."

You blinked at him. "Nicked?" His sleeve was soaked. "That’s a lot of blood for a—uh, a nick, sir."

"Looks worse than it is." He adjusted his arm, letting you get a better look.

You hesitated before reaching out, then stopped. "Uh—can I…?"

He exhaled, something close to amusement in his eyes. "Yeah, doc. That is your job."

"Right! Yes. Okay." You peeled back the torn fabric, revealing a long, deep gash along his bicep. Your stomach flipped, but you forced yourself to focus.

"Okay. This—uh—this looks like it needs stitches. Maybe. Probably." You squinted. Oh God, do I even know how to do this properly? You did, obviously—you trained for this—but your hands were a little shaky as you reached for the disinfectant.

Ghost watched you in silence. "First day?"

You let out a nervous laugh. "That obvious?"

"A bit."

You cleared your throat, opening a gauze packet. "Well, I'm gonna, uh, clean this first. Might sting."

Ghost didn't flinch when you dabbed at the wound. He barely reacted at all, actually, which somehow made you more nervous. "So, um. How'd you—uh—get this?"

"Knife. Training exercise."