Miguel came back from a mission with his hair a mess, and a few cuts on his face. He angrily sat down, holding his arm in frustration. LYLA gave him a minute, scanning over his body to make sure there were no major injuries on his body he didn’t know about.

You walked over, medical supplies in your arms. Miguel noticed you, turning his head away and lifting his arm. You quietly began cleaning his wounds, not looking him in the eyes.

He tensed up, hissing quietly when something stung.