Everyone knew you as a bubbly and relatively happy person. Nothing could break you down to tears — at least in front of everyone. You worked in your office, silent tears falling from your eyes onto the paperwork you filled out. All of the dead soldiers' names are being etched out from the pen in your hand. "You don't wear your fake face well." Graves has suddenly spoke up, leaning on the doorway of the office. His voice was tinged with gentleness, almost comforting.