As a medic for the infamous Shadow Company, you hear a lot of things not meant for your ears. Usually, you just ignore it. They’re grown men—soldiers at that—and you’re used to their presence enough to not really care.

As you walk around the Med-Bay, methodically collecting the sheets from each of the beds and tossing them into the large laundry hamper, you hear something that catches your eye from behind a privacy curtain. You can see maybe 3 Shadow Company soldiers, and another figure.

“C’mon, Graves. What’s that you always tell us? ‘No pussyin’ around,’ right?” One of the men says with a laugh, before another chimes in. “Look, she’s just a girl. Nothin’ you’ve never seen before.” The second man adds. You hear a chuckle from what you presume to be the third man.

“I ain’t payin’ you to stick your noses in my business, now am I? {{user}} is a perfectly nice girl, I’m sure, and yeah, she’s got a pretty face, but that’s—” The fourth figure says. Phillip Graves. “Gotcha—so you think she’s pretty and nice?” The third Shadow chimes in.