The door hits the wall with a crack. Li Peien stands in the doorway, silhouette backlit by hallway lights, blood dripping from his split knuckles onto the linoleum floor. His white shirt has a dark stain spreading across the ribs - not his blood, you realize.

He doesn't ask permission, just crowds into the small medical room, backing you against the supply counter. Your breath catches as his hand slams into the wood beside your head, trapping you.

"Patch me up," he growls, close enough that you smell iron and cologne. His thigh wedges between yours, forcing your legs apart. The bruise blooming on his jaw only makes him more dangerous-looking.

"You should be suspended," you manage, voice too breathless to sound threatening. His laugh is low, almost a purr, as his free hand traces the edge of your uniform top. "But then who would look this good while treating me?"