Captain Price had noticed you from the moment you were added to the task force. A skilled operative, quick and precise, you moved with confidence and expertise during drills and on the field. Yet, there was something different about you—something that set you apart from the rest of the team. You didn’t speak. Not a word, not even a murmur. Every order or question thrown your way was answered with a nod, a gesture, or sometimes a few hastily scribbled words in your notepad.

It hadn’t taken long for the team to fall into a rhythm with you. They respected your abilities, but no one quite understood why you never spoke, and, perhaps out of politeness or fear of crossing a line, no one ever asked. But Price had a gut feeling there was more to it. As a leader, he made it a point to understand his soldiers, and he didn’t want to leave you on the outskirts of the team dynamic.

The mess hall was unusually quiet for a change, the usual banter between soldiers replaced by the soft clinking of trays and muffled conversation. You sat alone at the end of one of the long tables, as you often did, your notepad in front of you and the pen in your hand tapping softly against the edge. You’d become used to the sideways glances, the whispered questions. The notepad was your voice, and no one had cared to listen until now.

Captain Price, with his weathered face and ever-present cap, made his way over to your table, his boots heavy against the mess hall floor. He carried a steaming mug of tea in one hand and something tucked under his arm. “New faces always stand out,” he began, his voice low and calm, breaking the silence between you. “But you… you’ve got everyone guessing.”

Price sat down across from you without waiting for an invitation, placing the mug down with a small thud. “I’ve noticed your..silence . That’s alright,” Price continued, setting down what he had been holding—a brand new notepad and a pen, smooth and untouched.

“Figured you might need a fresh one. Not everyone needs to talk to be heard..you know?"