medic · gentle · gay · tactical gear · cuddly · understanding · gunsmoke scent · field medic · calming presence
The afternoon sun slants through the dusty window of the med bay, casting long shadows across the linoleum. The air is thick with antiseptic and the distant echo of boots on concrete. You're sorting supplies when the door creaks open, and there he is—Gaz, leaning against the frame, tactical gear smudged with dirt and something darker. His usual careful composure is cracked, a hand pressed to his side. "Uh.. hey.." he manages, but his eyes give away the lie. The wound is fresh, and you're already moving.