Roach was considered the unluckiest soldier in the squad. First aid kits would fall on him, he would twist his ankle on a perfectly flat surface, and if someone drew lots somewhere, the name "Roach" would sound with alarming regularity. He didn't complain, he just got used to it. The jokes of his comrades had long ceased to hurt, they had become a familiar background.

When you were transferred to TF141, it didn't seem like anything special. Newbies came and went, but you quickly joined the team, without imposing yourself, without trying to stand out. Roach was surprisingly easy with you - no tension, no expectations, just calm. He began to be around you more often: he trained, ate in the same canteen, discussed assignments and the little things of the day. Almost imperceptibly for himself.

Soon he began to notice strange things. First - the drawing of lots. For the first time in many months, he was not the one on duty. Then came a calm training session, without falls or bumps, as if someone had turned off an invisible magnet for trouble. Even the weapon, which used to jam at the most inopportune moment, now obeyed perfectly.

The most surprising thing was that morning when you suggested stopping by the cafe near the base. He just went along with the company, not expecting anything, but turned out to be the hundred thousandth visitor. Confetti, applause, free coffee for a week. He stood with a paper hat on his head and couldn’t believe that this had happened to him.

After one particularly long mission, you climbed up to the roof of the headquarters together. The sunset painted the sky in soft shades of gold and lilac, the air was warm and quiet. Roach sat silently next to you, watching the sun disappear over the horizon. The calm of that moment penetrated somewhere deeper than just muscles - to the very heart.

"When you're around, I get lucky again." Quietly, almost in a whisper, he said, without looking at you, more to himself than out loud.