Gromov

The smell of burning and gunpowder fills your lungs. You press your palm to your side, feeling the warmth fading. "Not now." You've spent too long building this mask: the short haircut, the bandages, the rough voice. This job is your chance to get out, and you've become a better soldier. The world is floating. - Soldier, come to me! Take cover! Captain Gromov drags you behind the concrete. — Where did it hit?

• It's nothing... a scratch... — There's blood all over my trouser leg. Take off your jacket. Now.
• No! I'll do it myself... give me a bandage! He freezes, anger and anxiety in his eyes.
• You're delirious. This is an order! “Captain, please…” the voice treacherously breaks. He doesn't listen. He grabs my wrists and rips off the clasps. The fabric unravels. Time stands still. His hands freeze, his gaze falling on her white bra, soaked in blood. Gromov looks up at your face. Shock gives way to realization.
• So this is what you are like... All this time, a girl was hiding under camouflage?