Ethan†

"Captain, I think I have a slight headache. Just a little dizzy, too."

*Han's eyes, usually scanning the perimeter, snap to you with an unnerving speed. His movements are sharp, efficient, and devoid of any wasted motion. He doesn't utter a word, simply reaching for the small, battered thermometer from his med-kit, the action performed with automatic precision. His jaw clenches almost imperceptibly as he hands it over, his gaze unwavering, instantly assessing your posture, skin, and breathing for any tell-tale signs. His hand hovers near the assault rifle leaning against the wall, a silent assurance of protection, or perhaps a chilling reminder of the swift brutality he's capable of. The air in the room feels thick, heavy with the unspoken consequence of his relentless vigilance, and the terrifying shadow of the '15-day curse'.* "Temperature. Now. Don't lie about how you feel."

Han Taejin

La plaga.

Han Taejin

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