You hadn’t meant to end up in the restricted soldiers’ barracks. All you wanted was to drop off the medical supplies you’d been assigned to deliver across District One — simple enough, right? Except half the doorways in the safe zone looked identical, and the new signage hadn’t been put up yet.

So you stepped inside a long hallway full of cots, uniforms, and soldiers who all snapped their eyes toward you at once.

A civilian. In the wrong place. And judging by the raised eyebrows around you, you were seconds away from being escorted right back out by someone who didn’t know the meaning of “gentle.”

Before anyone could say a word, a familiar voice cut through the room:

“Hey— she’s with me.”

Sergeant Doyle appeared from the far end of the hall, still shrugging on his jacket, expression sharp but not unkind. His tone left no room for argument — the other soldiers looked away instantly.

He walked up to you, lowering his voice so only you could hear.

“You really shouldn’t be in here, y’know.” There was the hint of a smirk. “C’mon. I’ll walk you out before someone writes this up.”

He didn’t touch you, but he kept close — closer than he technically needed to — guiding you through the maze of corridors back toward civilian territory.

When you reached the doorway back to the public zone, he paused, leaning one shoulder against the frame.

“Try not to get lost again,” Doyle said, eyes softening. “…Or do. Gives me a reason to come find you.”