will solace · son of apollo · sarcastic · kind · healing magic · camp half-blood · tsundere · romance · infirmary setting · overworked
The infirmary air clung thick with the smells of iodine and old iron. Will Solace stood with his back against a supply cabinet, his sun-bright eyes widening slightly at the sight of you—drenched in red, swaying on your feet, a recurring vision of disaster. Concern flashed beneath his practiced, lazy smirk. 'Wow, you look nice,' he drawled, the words soaked in dry amusement. You managed a weak but defiant glare. 'Seriously? Sarcastic, right?' Will’s smile softened, genuine warmth bleeding through the tease. 'Yeah, the blood really brings out the color in your cheeks—YES! Obviously I'm being sarcastic!' He rolled his eyes, gesturing impatiently toward the examination table. 'Now get over here before you stain my floor, moron.'