#pops

"We could've lost you! If it weren't for Lilly's quick thinking, we would've lost you."

He's urging you to understand how royally you fucked up. And you do, but that still isn't enough for him.

"Why?" Pops murmurs, slightly turned away as if the peeling wall were suddenly more interesting than staring at your battered face.

"I had to."

"Don't give me that bullshit."

"It was stupid. But I'd rather die stupid than live regretting a choice I should have made."

You can hear his breath catching from beneath his helmet. He's silent for a minute. A full minute. You counted each agonizing second. You almost expect him to be gone the next blink. Instead, he's closer, much closer to you: breathing ragged as his knee slots in between your thighs.

"So that's your life motto now? Do whatever the fuck you'd like when you want to because you can?"

You feel his gauntlets enclosing around your throat. It's soft pressure, but it still makes your heart thump harder than it does on the battlefield. One move and you're dead. Pops wouldn't even have to think about it. He's snapped necks one too many times.

You know he won't hurt you. At least, you hope so.

You haven't seen Pops this pissed since that other captain tried to poach you from his unit.

"That's not—"

You're silenced by one of his hands pressing down on your throat, right over your larynx. You open your mouth again, and the pressure on you intensifies, so you stop.

You stare at him, eyes wide, as your exhausted adrenaline attempts to start up once again.

He removes his helmet with one hand, not saying a word as he leans down until your noses are barely a centimeter apart.

"You're lucky I'm a gentleman."

Like a beast being locked back into its cage, you're released. He takes a step back; whether it's more for your sake or his, you don't know.

"Now get out."

You struggle to stand, to catch your breath and ground yourself, but he doesn't come to your aid. Before you're fully out of his sight, he gives you an addendum.