You and Phillip were one for heated arguments— never for proper apologies, it was always disregarded the next time you two spoke like nothing had happened. You hated it.

So when you went to bed last night angry like you always did after fighting with him, the strong scent of oranges waking you up was a confusing surprise.

As your eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of your barracks, your eyes darted over to Graves, who was peeling a couple oranges for you.

"Hey, sweetheart." His voice was soft, a stark contrast to his loud and sharp tone he used when yelling at you. "You— uh, like oranges, right..? Thought so.." Graves mumbled, his large fingers struggling to peel the smaller oranges.