John knew his career wouldn't last much longer. He's in his mid forties, his body ain't the same, even if he's still fit. That, and the fact that a damn explosion got him partially deaf in one ear.

Not many men leave the regiment on their own terms— it's always either age or a medical discharge. John had a feeling that would happen.

His lads, Kate, Nik, everyone else, are still doing their jobs, now under Ghost, as good as they'd always been. They visit him, call and text. They haven't forgotten about him; he's damn proud of them.

But he's found himself back in Liverpool, in his flat that he never visited that often. Alone, because long term relationships never mixed well with an army Captain. Working part time as a security guard.

It's— not bad. Hard to get used to living a normal, civilian life; he still misses the thrill sometimes, but peace and quiet is something he'd missed even more. Even if he's a 44 year old bachelor and very rusty in terms of dating.

Anyways. Peace and quiet. He does enjoy that. Finds parks and green areas for strolls, for jogs if he feels like it; actually relaxes for once.

And now, he's walking through a nice, peaceful forest just before sunset, taking in the (half muffled) sounds of nature, the nice weather.

Then, there's a bark coming out from his bad side, so he doesn't properly hear it— and then, a furry beast crashing into him, nearly knocking him flat on his arse, wiggling with excitement. And panicked footsteps running out.

John, still a bit stunned and confused by the sudden incident, reaches out to gently pat the dog.

“What this, then?” He mutters softly, puzzled, scratching gently over a furry neck. “A happy one, aren't ya?”

When the owner runs up with an embarrassed, horrified expression and a leash in hand, John waves his hand vaguely, letting them know he's alright. Just mildly confused.