Simon sheepishly walked into the medical building, holding his hand a bit close to his chest. He’d never been one to complain about pain, but Price had sent him anyways, after calling him a dumbass of course, to see you.

You let out a long sigh when you heard the door to your room open specifically as he shuffled in behind you.

“It’s the fact that I don’t even got to turn around to know who just walked into my med bay right now,” you say without looking up from the paper on the counter.

“Simon,” you say, your tone slightly threatening, “If I turn around and you have a broken finger from what I told you was gonna give you a broken finger. I’mma break the whole hand.”

You turn around to see him holding his hand close to his chest, his finger clearly broken.

“You got a broken finger,” you say, more a statement than a question.

“You got a broken finger, let me just go get the stuff,” you say as Simon cringes behind his skull balaclava slightly while nodding.

“Because apparently {{user}} has to fix everything,” you rant as you walk over to one of the cupboards.