„If I survive this, I'll fucking slit your throat, MacTavish!"
„I'm just trying to help, lass!" said Sergeant held his hands up in the air in a defensive motion, not seeking her wrath. Because by the way she looked at him, he was a hundred percent sure that she would stick to her words.
She had to bite down on her lower lip to hold in a cry as he helped her to sit on a desk, the tension in her thigh not really lessening. They were in the back corner of Alejandro's backup hideout, where Ghost took them. When they found Rodolfo here, she wanted to jump in his neck and hug the life out of him, she was so happy to see a familiar face. But instead of a warm welcome, they had to make do with a fistbump, since she needed both men to keep her on her feet at this point.
And now, it was time to address her wound, and this was the part she wanted to skip forward.
Soap barely touched her leg, she hissed at him, trying to get away from his prying hands.
„Wellsy, I can't help you like this," he sighed, putting his hand on his hip as he looked at her. She almost smiled at the sight, he looked like a disappointed father, standing there like that. „We should get Ghost."
„No fucking way," she immediately shut him off, shaking her head so violently that a few strands of hair flew by her eyes. „He would kill me himself if I don't stay put."
„That's the point," he flashed her a mischievous smile, already turning around and heading back to the main area.
„Get back here, Kilt Boy!" she shouted after him, but she didn't even get a glance back. „Fuckin' quitter."
While she waited, seated on a not-so-comfortable metal desk, she took the chance to look around. It was fairly dark in the room she was in, with only a lone lamp on the desk giving some dim lighting. But it was enough to take one look at her thigh and know it was way too fucked up to do it up by herself.
It was embarrassing, but when it came to wounds, she was still a whiny baby about most of them. Especially about burnt wounds and bullet wounds, the rest she could deal with. But when she saw her two mates approaching, her self-respect returned, forcing her signature smirk on her lips and trying to block out the pain.
„Hey, Ghost, I almost forgot!" she leaned forward a little, reaching into the pocket on the side of her leg, pulling out a knife. It was the very knife she got from a Shadow, with the black and white marble handle. „I got you something."
As they stepped into the room, both of the men looked at her with curiosity, noticing the knife held in her hand. Soap's eyes flicked back to Rora's face with panic. This was it, he thought, she was really going to slit his throat. And by her sadistic smile, she knew exactly what effect she had on him.
„Another headache, a'ight?" Ghost gruffed out, crossing his arms in front of his chest. For a moment, his eyes wandered to her leg, seeing that her pants were drenched in blood, fresh and dried. And she looked pale. He wondered if she had any other injuries.
She motioned him to come closer, not really wanting to get off the table, it would be embarrassing to just collapse in front of them. With hesitant steps, he stepped closer to her, only leaving a foot distance between them, and the sudden close proximity caused her breath to hitch in her throat. She tilted her head back a little, looking up at his face, his eyes barely visible because of the dark shadows. She was mad at the shadows for taking away his eyes from her.
Rora held out her hand, waiting for him to place his in hers. But by the confused look he gave her, it was obvious he didn't get it, so she let out a sigh and reached forward, grabbing his wrist and turning his palm upwards.
The sudden urge to step back two steps was hard to fight down, his heart skipping a beat at her touch. He didn't like being touched. The only physical contact he received so far was mostly malicious and harmful, and the very little percentage that wasn't got drowned out by the ones he hated. But if she touched him, somehow it wasn't that bad like the rest. It confused him, and he didn't like it.
A fairly heavy thing being placed in the palm of his hand break him away from his thoughts. His head tilted to the side a little as he inspected the knife placed in his hand. It was a combat knife, with pretty but unnecessary detailing on the handle. The blade was serrated, a typical type of a US combat knife. He didn't need to ask who it was from.
„I stole it from a Shadow," Rora cleared her throat, not being sure why she got that look from him. „It looked too great to leave it there. And it reminded me of you."
„Why?" Ghost asked, genuine curiosity showing through his words.
„It's rough around the edges."
Their eyes met, each of them showing something else. Her crystalline eyes glistened with amusement by her own humor, the corner of her lips curved up as she looked up at him, while Ghost's eyes clearly showed how unimpressed he was. With a swift motion, he flicked his wrist, throwing the knife in the air. She watched as it flipped in the air and he caught it with such grace and practicality, she was unable to hide her fascination.
„I have enough knives," he said as he handed it back to her. With a shake of her head, she pushed his hand back.
„It's a gift, and I killed somebody for it. So take it." Just to get her point through, she flashed him one of her most innocent smiles, fluttering her lashes just for good measure.
For a few seconds, the two of them held each other's gaze, both of them too stubborn to back down, but the scuff of boots against the floor caused them to snap out of it. Only to see a retrieving Soap, and she only caught a glimpse of his back, her mouth opening in disbelief. Did he really just ditch her with Ghost?
„Why am I here again?" Ghost broke the sudden silence, earning her attention once again. And as she looked up at him, suddenly she had a lot to say.
She haven't got a chance to spend some alone time with him in a hot minute, and even though she didn't like to admit it, Rora enjoyed his company. She liked the teasing, the fact that all of her flirty remarks bounced off of him with ease. She liked that whenever their eyes met, it changed: his eyes weren't so cold anymore, they just held little light, but she wanted to be the one to reignite it again.
But she would rather die than say any of those things out loud.
„Soap is a pussy, and I can't do this myself," Rora moved a little her injured leg, showing what she meant. „So, even though this pains me, but... Could you help me stitch my leg?"
She blurted out the last part of the sentence so fast he could barely understand, and by the slight tint of her cheeks, he could tell she was embarrassed to ask for help. Rora Wells was probably going to die because of her pride, all of them knew this.
„Is it lethal?" Ghost asked, looking at her leg. It looked like shit, even in this lighting.
„No...?" her eyebrows furrowed at him, she just didn't get some of his questions. „As you can see, I'm still breathing."
„Then why do you need me?" he crossed his arms in front of his chest, as he took a step back, his eyes flicking back to hers.
Are you fucking kidding me? Rora had to take a moment to not cuss him out because of his dumbness like she didn't just break a piece of her pride even by asking for help.
