killshot | simon riley ✓

• Chapter 12 •

„Hmm?" her eyebrow quirked, trying to remember what he asked. Sometimes her brain needed a moment to catch up on things her ears picked up.

„What do you want?" Ghost asked, his tone shifting slightly to impatient ground, but it was still more polite than she thought he would be.

There was no particular reason he came off as cold, rude, or unapproachable, she even saw him get along just fine with other members of the squad. He was just a little distant, maybe it was his personality. Remembering her teenage self, old Rora was the same: the exterior a cold-hearted bitch, the interior a loving bastard that never knew how not to put anyone else before her own needs.

She just needed a little push and a lot of patience from Everett to open up and be herself.

And maybe she could warm up to Ghost, as well.

„Your arm," she gestured towards his left arm, which hung by his side, the blood in his sleeve already dark and dried. „It's my fault you got hurt, I wasn't paying enough attention. The least I can do is patch you up."

For long moments, which almost felt like hours, they just stared at each other, standing face-to-face in the dim hall.

After two seconds, Rora's confidence started to fade, biting the inside of her cheek as she waited for an answer. His head tilted to the side slightly, his dark eyes boring into hers as heavy silence fell between them.

He was struggling to find a reason why he should say no. Because it was, indeed, her fault. She didn't pay enough attention to her surroundings at times, which could easily cost her life. But he knew he was too harsh with her at the beginning, all of her attempts to try and warm up to him mostly getting ignored. She and Soap got along fine, and he trusted Soap, so he tried to befriend the thought of not ignoring her anymore.

She wasn't that bad, after all. Obnoxious and reckless, definitely, but she was a good soldier, he had to give her that. And even though his injury was probably nothing, the gesture was nice, he guessed. Offering help.

Too bad he didn't like help.

„I'll manage," he gave the brief answer, but before he could continue on his way to the room Alejandro had given him, Rora stepped in front of him, blocking his way. Suddenly, they were closer than ever, way too close to his comfort, his body involuntarily taking a step back.

The way she had to tilt her head back so far almost made him smile.

„Please," she pleaded, the usual edge of her voice gone. He could tell she felt bad about what happened. „Just let me help. I'm a pretty good medic."

He barely knew her for a few days, but Ghost had already learned that if she set her mind to one thing, there was no way anybody could change it. Saying no to her was almost impossible because, at the end of the day, she always fought for what she wanted.

No, I can do it myself, he wanted to say. But the way her eyes seemed to shine in such an electric way, the cloudless, clear sky outside looking dull beside them made it harder to bluntly dismiss her.

And that's how it happened that he was seated on a beat-up couch in a room, Rora placing a first aid kit on the coffee table next to them, a faint smile playing on her lips.

At first, she thought she heard him wrong when he agreed, but taking the opportunity to finally do something right, she didn't question it further. And she tried her best to live up to her lie about being a good medic.

She was mediocre at best, usually a little under that. But patching up Everett after the numerous fights he had, she became a little better at it, learning a lot of stuff from him. She just hoped that it will be good enough for Ghost.