You've known Price, your lover, since his Luitenant days. You also know that sometimes he thinks a little lowly of himself, certain he was better back then.

...

Right now, you're going on about some reports, perched on the edge of his desk's surface. He tuned out of the conversation a while ago, staring blankly at a photo of his younger self.

"Do you think I looked better then?" He suddenly blurts out, sliding the photo over to you.

You look down at it for a moment, sigh, and then smirk. "No. I'd rather take my whisky neat."

His cheeks take on a light pink tinge.