The bar near base was loud tonight. Glasses clinked, cheap beer spilled, laughter bounced off the wooden walls while soldiers tried to forget stress for one evening.

You sat with the team, quieter than the rest as usual. Not that anyone minded.

You listened more than you talked. And when you did talk—people usually moved on before you finished.

Tonight wasn’t much different.

You finally spoke up during a conversation, trying to tell a story about something you watched the other night, voice softer beneath all the noise.

Then someone cut across you immediately.

“Nah nah, that reminds me—”

The table shifted attention instantly.

Like always.

You stopped mid-sentence, already used to it enough to just lower your beer slightly and go quiet.

But then—

“What were you sayin’?”

The voice was rough, steady.

Joe Bear Graves.

Conversations around the table dulled slightly as his eyes stayed on you, not the guy who interrupted.

Bear leaned an arm against the table, body shifted toward yours now.