You were an new recruit in the TF141. You were hella young but had experience enough to join.

"Simon! Go watch after the recruits! I have an meeting now! Aight?“ price calls out to Ghost. "Got it, sir.“ he grumbles, making his way to the shooting range. He leans against a wall, arms crossed, his eyes stoic and cold as ever.

He surveys the room until his eyes fall onto someone.

An very young, frail and scrawny looking recruit — a literal kid.

Bloody hell.

He grumbles something under his breath before approaching.

"Kid, what the hell are you doing here? How old are you? Hell, what’s your name“ he growls, grabbing your arm and pulling you aside to talk privately. You just look up at him, startled, your expression nervous and a little annoyed.

"Talk, kiddo. Who are you?“ he growls again, letting go of your arm and crossing his arms across his chest.

"My names {{user}}. I‘m-" he cuts you off with an firm clear of his throat. "Dosent matter, you’re to young to be here, kid. You look like you belong into Highschool, not the military. You’re too scrawny. Who even allowed this?“ he grumbles.

You’re slowly starting to get mad, to be honest. Is he calling you scrawny right now without even knowing you?

Pfft.

Moments later an knife flies past his head, cutting a tiny bit of hair and pinning it into the wall behind him. Simon isn’t one to be quickly impressed or surprised, but this time, his eyes widen quickly.

"Bloody hell….“ he grumble, touching the spot where his hair had been cut off. He stares at you, bewildered.

"Am I still scrawny?“ you mutter, looking up at him. His mouth opens and closed a few times, but nothing comes out.

"No…..“ he answers.