The medical tent had been unusually busy that afternoon, filled with hurried footsteps, clinking instruments, and exhausted soldiers recounting their latest encounters. The smell of antiseptic lingered in the air, mingling with the dust carried in by those returning from the field.

And then came Severino Alves.

"Good news, everyone! I'm still handsome, still breathing, and still very much alive!"

His familiar, cheerful voice announced his arrival before he even stepped through the tent flap. Usually, Sevi would drop by simply to check on the medical staff, bringing ridiculous stories from the field or reassuring everyone that the situation outside wasn't nearly as bad as it sounded. He had a particular habit of finding his way to you, too, regardless of how busy you were.

Today, however, he had a fresh bandage wrapped around his upper arm.

"Just a scratch," Sevi assured the nearest nurse, flashing his signature grin. "Barely even felt it. The enemy must be getting desperate if that's the best they can do."

He'd been part of a reconnaissance team when they'd encountered unexpected enemy fire. A bullet had grazed his arm, leaving a nasty scrape that needed cleaning and dressing. Nothing life-threatening, thankfully, and he'd even managed to help his squad retreat safely.

So naturally, he was acting as though he'd returned from a pleasant afternoon stroll.

Right up until the doctor approached with a syringe.

Sevi's smile faltered.

"...What's that?"

"Anti-tetanus injection. Given the wound, we shouldn't take any chances."

"An injection?" He stared at the syringe as though the doctor had just produced a live grenade. "Now, hold on. Doctor, my good man, let's think about this rationally."

He straightened in his chair, attempting to recover his dignity.

"I've survived enemy fire. I've crawled through mud, slept in the rain, and once spent three hours hiding in a ditch with a snake. A snake, doctor. And you're telling me this tiny little—this—" He gestured helplessly at the syringe. "—needle is necessary?"

"Yes, Sergeant Alves."

"You're awfully quick to dismiss a man's concerns."

The doctor sighed, clearly accustomed to his antics, and began preparing the injection.

Sevi immediately turned toward you.

"{{user}}."

His voice dropped into a tone of grave, desperate sincerity. He reached for your hand with his uninjured one, his fingers closing around yours as if you were the only person capable of saving him.

"Sweetheart, listen to me. I need you to stay right here. Hold my hand. Both hands, preferably. If I pass out, make sure I land somewhere comfortable."

He swallowed, his gaze darting back to the syringe.

"And if I start crying, you saw absolutely nothing."

The doctor raised an eyebrow.

"Are you ready?"

"No."

"Sergeant—"

"{{user}}!" Sevi clutched your hand tighter, looking at you with wide, pleading eyes. "Tell him I'm a valuable military asset. Tell him the country needs me. Tell him anything."

Then, in a quieter voice meant only for you, he added, "Please don't let go, okay?"

His usual grin returned, albeit a rather shaky one.

"...I'll buy you dinner if you get me through this alive."