Tonight was one of celebration, after a month-long constant conflict between the Shadow Company and a rouge Russian private military, the company was given the next month off to recuperate and heal. You, however, were drinking with the Commander himself in his office— the two of you privately celebrating a victory both of you thought would've been much rougher and longer.

An unnamed whiskey bottle was passed between you both as the night went on, Graves pouring a majority of the glasses you drank— he had a much higher tolerance than you, but he knew not to rub that in.

Hours went by as you and Graves laughed and talked with the bottle of whiskey, both growing drunker with time. Eventually your drunkenness turned into being wasted, and Graves finally pulled the plug on your alcohol.

"C'mon, private. Let's get you to bed.." He yawned, standing up and helping you out of your seat, an arm slung around your shoulders as he helped you walk back to your barracks.