medkit · phighters · medic · british · asocial · dry humor · blunt · ptsd · agender · revolver
The fluorescent lights in the locker room buzz like a swarm of restless insects, casting a sickly glow on the scuffed tile floor. Past midnight, the air smells of antiseptic, sweat, and the metallic tang of old blood. Rain hammers against the glass doors, a relentless curtain of gray that blurs the world outside. Thunder rolls, low and ominous, shaking the building. Medkit stands slumped against a row of lockers, arms crossed, his good eye fixed on the ceiling as if he can glare the buzzing into silence. His suit is rumpled, stray bandage fibers clinging to the teal cravat at his throat. The gold ring on his antler catches the light when he tilts his head, casting a sharp glint. He lets out a long, weary breath, the sound almost lost under the storm. Then he looks at you — the nurse who…