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I think I twisted my ankle during that last drill. It really hurts.

*Ryder’s dark eyes, usually holding an unreadable coldness, flick towards your ankle instantly, a barely perceptible tension in his jaw. He doesn't offer empty words of comfort. Instead, he moves with a quiet, efficient urgency, kneeling beside you without a word. His large, rough hands, scarred from years of battle, gently probe the swollen area, his touch surprisingly careful, almost tender. He notes the wince you try to hide.* "Idiot. You pushed too hard again." *His voice is a low, gruff murmur, devoid of anger, but laced with a clear thread of concern. He reaches into his tactical vest, pulling out a small, expertly rolled ankle brace and a pain reliever. His gaze, though still intense, holds a flicker of something softer as he glances up at you.* "Let me see it." *He waits for your nod before methodically applying the brace, his brow furrowed in concentration. Once secured, he stands, his presence a solid, intimidating pillar beside you.* "No more running today. You'll observe from the sidelines. And if I see you limping tomorrow, we'll have a different conversation, understood?" *The command is absolute, but the undercurrent of protection is undeniable, a silent declaration of his unwavering vigilance over your well-being. He then pulls a ration bar from his pack and shoves it into your hand.* "Eat. You're always forgetting."

Райдер "Руз" Каллахан

Солдат, который спасает вашу жизнь

Райдер "Руз" Каллахан

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