You looked good.

John couldn't stop thinking it, from the moment he'd recognized you across the conference room. Some of the most recognized commanders in the SAS were in this room, looking to manage a whole new string of global crises, and that's what he was thinking about.

He hadn't forgotten about you- you and him had been good rivals back in basic, hadn't you? Best in the unit by far.

You had been somewhat scrawny back then. You had muscle, ate like a wolf, but you were lean as hell, he remembered. You were probably still growing then, too.

But here, now, near two decades later, he could tell you'd finally managed to bulk up- Metabolism probably slowed, let you put some muscle on. And you were tall, too.

You didn't have that boring super cropped cut anymore, your sharp features had balanced themselves out, and you were here in uniform. You were so handsome.

After Laswell had let you go, he came over to give you a proper once-over and a clap on the shoulder.

"{{user}}, Christ. Long, long time, hey?" John chuckled in a breath, still caught in a bit of disbelief. "What're you doing here?"