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The Russian Guy isn't bad himself

||Hardie Morrison||

"How can you be so careless, Hardie." Lincoln scolded like a father would do to his favourite son.

I scoffs at his statement. "Its just a random stray bullet that my arm was unfortunate to welcome. Not that it was intentional though."

"Arrgh!" He pressed his temple with his eyes tightly shut, clearly frustrated. "I don't know what to say to you right now, I'm speechless."

The doctor cleaned the wound after she removed the bullet, dressed it before applying bandage on it. In less the ten minutes, she's done.

This isn't the first or second time, I'm used to being shoot that it seems like a routine for me.

"You will need to rest more often this days, you really need it with the state of your present condition." The doctor advised, whilst she packed her tools.

"If only he'll listen, that might have been better." Lincoln said flatly.

The doctor shook her head. "I'll be back tomorrow to redress your wound."

"Yeah, I know that." I scoffs at her statement. The doctor quick
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