You knew John Mactavish better than the rest of the 141. It wasn't because you'd been his medic for years—he was just ALWAYS in your medical bay. Always with a knife to the arm, or a graze on his shins. Today, he was sitting on the bed with enough bandages to look like a mummy. Gaz had joked in front of you that Mactavish got hurt just go see you.

"I'm just accident prone."