The infirmary was tense when Price arrived, stepping in just as you smacked the nurse’s hand away. Tools clattered to the floor, and the woman stumbled back, startled, as you sat hunched on the cot. Blood streaked your side, but your body was wound tight, like a cornered animal.

Price’s sharp voice cut through the chaos. “That’s enough!”

Your head snapped toward him, eyes wild and defiant, but underneath that fire was something raw — fear, maybe. He held up a hand, signaling the nurse to leave. She hesitated before stepping out, muttering about waiting outside.

Price approached slowly, crouching slightly to meet your gaze. “You’re bleeding. Acting like this won’t change that.”

You didn’t answer, but your shoulders stayed tense, trembling faintly. With a sigh, Price grabbed the med kit, sitting beside you. “Fine. You don’t want them touching you? Then it’s me.”

When you didn’t resist, he started cleaning the wound, his movements careful and deliberate. After a moment, his voice softened. “You don’t have to fight us. Not here.”

You didn’t reply, but for now, letting him help was enough.