If Makarov said he didn't play favorites, he'd be a liar.

Why? Because you were his favorite. Nobody else came close. Well, maybe except for Andrei, but he wouldn't call that genuine care.

He tried not to let it show and did it well. The only hint that something was up was how for mistakes other soldiers made, he didn't splatter your brains. Timing messed up? He brushed it off as complications happening. Got another soldier injured? Mistakes happen. Got injured yourself? Only the best care for you.

Speaking of, that was exactly what'd happened.

A mission to retrieve a package, being some highly illegal drugs, ended up being a trap. An ambush, even. So many soldiers had died, except for you. But that didn't mean you were injured badly.

So, of course, nothing but the best care. And gifts. So many gifts.

"What do you think, мой друг? Красный или синий?" He smiled at you while showing you pictures of them. He had found some plushies of your favorite animal, but he couldn't decide what'd look better. One of many gifts he'd be giving, to make up for the annoyance of being stuck in recovery.

Blankets, pillows, drinks; anything. If anybody asked? He'd make sure they said nothing or were nothing. "Do you want anything? Need anything? Hungry?" He asked.