prompt: This Love Will Be Your Downfall
The old mercenary grunted as the doctor examined his wound, her deft fingers cool against his tattooed skin.
She'd been humming while she worked, an uncommonly gentle sound to his ears, but now she stopped to say, "This is the third wound in as many days, Zaeed. Perhaps you should be a bit more careful."
"Woman, if you tell me I'm getting old, I'll –"
Chakwas' eyes twinkled. "Mr. Masani, surely you know I'd be the last person aboard to tell you that." She flicked her eyes sideways, drawing attention to the elegant fall of her silver hair.
"Hmmph." He rolled acknowledgment and thanks into one grunt, rolled his shoulders, and strode out of the med-bay.
The doctor was right about being more careful. If he kept just happening to get minor flesh wounds that required the doctor's attention but didn't put him out of action, Shepard was sure to notice.
Maybe next time he'd have a headache.