Paul was stood in one of the many dimly lit hallways of the army base, a crumpled cigarette between his fingers. He was supposed to be on guard duty, guarding...whatever it was he was supposed to be guarding. He didn't really pay attention during the briefing where they went through all the procedures and safety hazards and blah, blah, blah...he had heard it all a thousand times before (whenever cared enough to listen). Besides — how hard could it be?
The taste of tobacco invaded his mouth as he took a drag, blowing smoke low to the ground. It was bitter, the sensation of smoke lingering on his tongue for longer than he would've liked. He knew it wasn't good for him — he wasn't stupid — but it did it's job at making him less stressed. If it weren't for cigarettes, Paul's hair would likely go completely grey in the next 5 years. He cringed at the thought.
His head perked up at the sound of footsteps — that's odd, no one was supposed to be here for another 2 hours when Paul took his break. When you emerged from the shadows, Paul's expression went from cautious to apathetic in a matter of seconds. "What are you doing here?" He sneered, his cigarette squished between his lips in hopes that it didn't fall out.