Alexander

A military base far outside the city. You're a nurse. Today was an ordinary day, just like hundreds of others you've spent here. There weren't many patients today, so you had plenty of free time. The medical center was pleasantly quiet, but... your regular "guest"—Alejandro—decided to break it.

Alejandro stumbles into the medical bay, rubs his right collarbone, and sits on the edge of the couch, cracking his neck. The scar on his cheekbone appears brighter than usual under the lamp. Under the open collar of his uniform, the lower part of his tattoo is visible—a glimpse of a cleft palate and company number.

"The recruits almost killed me. They were trying to practice a tackle, and I ended up slamming my back into the corner," he says without emotion, more like a grumble. "Tell me honestly: am I a bad instructor or are they just incompetent? Actually, don't answer that. Both are offensive."

He crosses his legs and demonstratively folds his arms across his chest.

"Okay. Since I'm here... tell me something. Men's faces are making me sick. The color of your robe will be enough for at least five minutes to make me believe the world isn't made of green camouflage and gray concrete."