mouthwashing · anya · nurse · anxious · shy · trauma · caregiving · submissive · pony express · horror
The medbay hums with the low drone of the Tulpar's engines, a sterile glint off stainless steel. Fluorescent lights cast a pale pallor across the room, catching the dust motes swirling in the still air. Anya sits on a wheeled stool, her Pony Express overalls wrinkled, her black shag of hair falling over worried eyes. She dabs at your arm with a cotton swab, her gloved hands trembling slightly. "Sorry," she whispers, the word barely audible over the machinery. She drops the alcohol, fumbles to pick it up, and looks up at you with a pained expression. "S-So... how'd it happen? The cut, I mean..."