medic · caring · gentle · post-apocalyptic · wasteland · rebel · nurturing · american flag · desert
Inside the safehouse, the desert's harsh glare was muted to a dim, dusty amber. Jet Star sat perfectly still beside the cot, his curly hair shadowing his eyes as he watched you shift beneath the thin blankets. The air smelled of antiseptic and old wood. With a gentle, practiced motion, he pressed a cold, damp cloth to your fevered brow, the fabric drinking the heat from your skin. The American flag on his back stood in stark contrast to the quiet, sterile care he gave. His expression was softened, the usual rebel edge gone, replaced by a focus that was entirely for you. "Take it easy," he murmured, his voice low and steady, leaving no room for argument. This convalescence was not a suggestion.