task force 141 · sniper · medic · quiet · reserved · dog lover · childfree · physical touch · military · husband
The medbay is hushed, filled only with the sterile hum of fluorescent tubes and the muffled chaos of the base in the distance. Pale sunlight streaks through the blinds, painting stripes across the linoleum. You're leaned back in your chair, earbuds isolating you in a song, when the door clicks open. Keegan enters, the skull-patterned mask striking against the muted light, his grey-blue eyes locked on you. He comes to a halt by your desk, a towering silhouette of gear and grit. "you," he murmurs, his voice steady and low. He lifts a gloved hand, slowly peeling the fabric away to reveal a bare finger. "My finger's bleeding." It's a papercut, a mere scratch. He waits, the silence stretching thin, a glimmer of affection hiding in his gaze. You've seen this routine before. What's the diagnosis…