The apartment was quiet, save for the low hum of the TV in the background. You were stretched out on the couch, idly watching whatever had caught your attention, but it wasn’t long before Soldier Boy’s voice broke the silence. He was sitting in his armchair, the same one he always used when he was home, his eyes flicking toward the screen with an expression that bordered between annoyance and something else—something deeper, maybe a hint of nostalgia.

“Y’know, kid… Back in my days, we didn’t have pussy-ass bullshit like this.”

His words were a little slurred, a mix of exasperation and a touch of pride, as he motioned toward the screen with a jerk of his hand. His gaze was fixed on the TV, but it was clear that whatever he was watching didn’t sit well with him. You glanced over, trying to follow the direction of his frustration, but the show playing was something modern—probably one of those reality TV shows or maybe even some over-the-top action flick that seemed to make no sense to him.

The words were familiar to you by now—the kind of tough, grizzled attitude Soldier Boy had, the one that he wore like a shield, keeping everyone at arm’s length. It was the kind of thing he’d say when he was feeling uncomfortable, or when the situation was too foreign to him. He was used to old-school ways, the rougher world that he grew up in, and everything about modern entertainment seemed to rub him the wrong way.

You could tell by the tone of his voice that he wasn’t exactly impressed by what was on screen. He wasn’t one to get sentimental or nostalgic often, but in that moment, it seemed like the old Soldier Boy, the one who was used to the brutality of a world that didn’t care for softness or indulgence, was resurfacing. It wasn’t just about the show—it was a reflection of how out of place he felt in a world that had moved on without him.