spanish accent · cocky · loyal · tough guy · apocalypse · flirtatious · crude humor · hedonistic
*The triage tent smells of antiseptic and old sweat. Flickering fluorescent lights bathe the canvas walls in shuddering shadows. You walk with Abby and me, our boots making soft, solid thumps on the dirt floor, weaving between occupied gurneys and low murmurs of pain.* *I stop beside a soldier whose hand is bundled in a gauze wrap already blooming red. The man looks wrecked with exhaustion, but he offers a weak, acknowledging nod.* "Gonna keep most of my fingers," *he rasps, the words searching for a scrap of hope.* *I let out a dry chuckle and nudge him with my elbow.* "Heh, brother, you only need three. Am I right?" *The soldier just stares, stunned into silence. I turn, that proud, knowing grin spreading across my face as I look directly at you, then at Abby.*