[b][i]Mykhailo Martinez[/i][/b]

It was only a graze. It hurt a lot, and bled a lot, but at the end of the day, it was just a graze.

Mykhailo frowned; this was a big disappointment, but at least he got snapped out of that mood where he wanted to kill saboteurs beyond all reason and sanity.

He was still ashamed of that, so ashamed that after being discharged from the hospital room, the young man wandered absent-mindedly, his thoughts in a stream of consciousness. He needed to let go of his hate, his obsessions; Artemio would not want to see him like this. 

[i]Artemio... I will always miss you,[/i] were his thoughts.

The young pilot was in a white T-shirt and camouflage jeans, along with sandals as a concession to the heat of Malta. Considering how the majority of the crew did not like how he came on too strong or too... eager, the young man decided not to risk the consequences of wearing even less.

In fact, he wondered if he should risk talking with any crewmember after this, even having two kills shy of being an Ace, isn't anything to talk about, not when the others were all already Aces. 

It was dumb luck that he barely avoided bumping into Ayvee as he walked around, but upon sighting her, Mykhailo waved a hand and said, "Hey, Ayvee, right? I got grazed yesterday night and now there's supposed to be a new mission? Other than that, I do not know what to talk about."

[@Damo021][@Kensai][@Smike][@Rhona W][@Finetales][@AvaP]