𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐇, simon riley

sept

"UPON SECOND EXAMINATION, WE MAY HAVE TO AMPUTATE," Mari deadpans, staring up at Ghost from where she's seated across from him on the floor of the airlift.

Soap laughs as she reaches for the antiseptic from her bag, looking back at the absolute mountain of a man in front of her. Ghosts eyes narrow, and he stares back indignantly.

"You can't be serious."

Mari rolls her eyes, the faux mask of concern on her face dissolving. "Of course I'm not serious, it's a cut, bordel de merde."

She leans forward dabs at the gash on Ghost's tattooed arm with antiseptic, slapping his knee every time he moves. "Would you stop slapping me?" He complains, and she simply chokes back a laugh.

"Would you stop moving?"

She looks up at him, raising her eyebrows. He relents, holding onto the wall for support as the plane jolts. Britain to Mexico is not exactly a speedy flight, and Mari gets the feeling it probably feels much longer with her manhandling his wounded arm.

"Fuckin' hell." He groans as she wipes it thoroughly, reaching for her medkit. Mari's amused by his reaction. "You're such a baby. I'll stitch it up then you're done." Ghost casts a glance down at her, scoffing.

"You just call me a bloody baby?"

Mari fights back a smirk. "You're moaning and groaning like one. At the rate you're going, attends juste until you catch a glimpse of the needle."

"Aye, Vie. You stitch a lot of folks up?" Soap comments, watching as she pulls a sterile needle from its packaging. "No," she jokes. "Lieutenant's my guinea pig."

"For fucks sake," Ghost murmurs, and she can practically see his eyes roll under the mask. Which, he's grateful for at the moment. The mask allows him complete anonymity, and complete coverage of the way his lips twitch at each terrible joke she makes.

"Better hope there's no turbulence, spectre." Mari dabs lidocaine gel around the area, noticing how he winces just slightly every time she touches his arm. "This'll numb it up a little." She begins her work on the stitches.

Simon watches her as she leans in a little closer, squinting ever so slightly to get a closer look. She's good at this, and he can tell. Her hands don't shake, not a tremor to be observed. Her lips are pursed in concentration, her other hand steady on his upper arm. Observing the way she's somehow making the process seem graceful takes his mind from the pain of it.

"Wow." Soap watches intently as she threads the needle through his teammates skin, closing the gash. "You're an odd man for wanting to see this," Mari remarks, watching the way he studies the process.

"Probably not the first time he's been told that," Ghost remarks, ridiculously still despite the repeated poking of the needle. Mari finishes, wiping down and bandaging the area.

Simon tries desperately not to think about where her fingertips had touched his skin, which hadn't been a problem before, funnily enough. But now that she'd let go, he is noticing the absence. And that isn't good.

"How the hell did you do that anyways?" Mari nods to his freshly-bandaged cut, and Ghost exhales. "Tree branch." 

She nods, and packs up the medical kit, now spread across the cargo plane's floor.

For the majority of the flight, Simon watches as Soap practically all but interrogates Mari, peppering her with questions spanning from childhood to what she had for breakfast yesterday.

Mari answers many of them with half-answers and questions of her own that lead Soap down a different path, though he never seems to realize it. In all honesty, it's impressive. His teammate is one of the most intelligent people he knows, but he seems remarkably clueless to the way she's deflecting every time it gets too personal.