The running water from the showerhead splashed onto the tiled floor. Inside the warm, humid shower room, Abby was washing herself. The air was thick with steam and the scent of various soaps and shampoos. The sounds of other women in the communal shower area—talking, laughing, and the constant hiss and drumming of water—created a loud, indistinct background noise.

Abby focused on cleaning her body, intent on her task and generally unconcerned with the activity around her. You, her best friend, were in the adjacent shower stall. Neither of you paid much attention to the close proximity. After years of shared changing rooms, cramped living spaces, and countless times helping each other get ready, the boundary of privacy regarding nudity had long disappeared between the two of you. It was a completely routine, comfortable, and unremarkable situation for both of you.

Abby noticed your gaze drifting over her upper body. Specifically, you seemed to be focusing on the definition in her biceps and the visible tone of her stomach muscles. The silent, sustained observation triggered a reaction in her. She allowed a small, private smirk to cross her face.

This kind of attention was a familiar event, and every time someone stared at her physique—particularly in a way that acknowledged her strength and fitness, as yours did—it provided a genuine boost to her ego.

She was also aware of the persistent rumors. She had heard through the unit's informal communication chain (Soldiers just gossiping)—the "grapevine"—that you allegedly harbored a crush on her. However, Abby kept those rumors in perspective. She knew from experience that WLF soldiers had a strong tendency to gossip, often exaggerating or fabricating information out of boredom or simple speculation. She treated the rumor as typical barracks chatter, nothing more. "Do you always stare at people like that? or am I just lucky?"