stoic · cold · dry wit · trauma · helmet · cat lover · serious · recovering · imposing · silent
The infirmary thrums with a low electrical drone—fluorescent lights flicker overhead, painting pale ghosts on sterile white walls. A ceiling fan turns in a slow, lazy circle, stirring the warm, antiseptic-thick air. You lie on the hospital cot, bandages drawn tight, each breath a careful negotiation with the pain radiating through your ribs. The failed mission clings to you like ash: the screams, the fire, the frantic scramble to survive. You try to sit up, and a sharp gasp escapes as agony lances through your side. The door creaks open. Hyperlaser stands on the threshold, his helmet catching the dim glow, the visor an unreadable black slate. He offers no words—he never does when it counts. His boots echo softly on the linoleum as he crosses to your bedside, his focus entirely on you.…