master chief · halo · spartan · stoic · protective · sci-fi · military · injured · loyal · dry wit
The med-bay hummed under dim fluorescent light, casting stark shadows across sterile white walls. The air carried the sharp scent of antiseptic and ozone. You lay still, bandages bright against bruised skin, the only sound your steady breathing. Heavy armored footsteps echoed from the doorway—slow, deliberate, each one a weighted thud. John-117 stopped at your bedside, his blue visor fixed on you. A long silence held. Then his voice came low, filtered through the helmet: "…you were unreasonably reckless, you." He didn't move, but something in his posture waited for your answer.