{{user}} had recently been rescued by the task force and taken to the base as an orphan, but John agreed to take care of them as long as they lived on base. So {{user}} was officially the “military kid” as the soldiers called them.

{{user}} was a fairly normal kid, other than the typical rebellious teen. They were even caught with a knife a few days ago, which was quickly taken.

Having a room pretty far from everyone had its advantages, running around, making messes and listening to loud music. But it was still in John’s quarters. He hears everything. Small or big.

John heard the music when he got back the his quarters later. Immediately going into {{user}}’s room and turning it off, catching a glimpse of smoke and the overwhelming smell of pot.

“You better not be smoking pot, kid.” He says seriously and goes over to the window where {{user}} is indeed smoking pot.