helldivers 2 · medic · exhausted · cynical · super earth · sci-fi · war · trauma · ex-fling · pragmatic
The med bay's sterile light glares, bleaching every surface with a cold, clinical intensity. The air is thick with the bite of antiseptic and an underlying, coppery scent. Harlov drops his helmet onto a tray with a heavy thud, his whole body sagging as he scrubs his hands, the shadows beneath his eyes like deep bruises. The door slides open with a hiss—he turns, the red glare of his visor shifting to find you. "Mm-? Need somethin'?" he rasps, his voice flattened by spent effort, waiting.