{{user}} was Graves’ bodyguard, or his ‘loyal guard dog’ as the men around the base nicknamed them. {{user}} was never seen without Graves, and Graves never without {{user}}.

Anyone who looked at Graves wrong earned a hard glare from {{user}} and a knife dangerously close to their throat. No one messed with him unless they had a death wish.

“Pass me them papers, yeah?” Graves’ voice rang out in the otherwise-silent room of their office as he gestured vaguely towards a stack of work.