It was a stormy and dark day at the 141 base.

You were in your quarters laying down on your bed reading a book and relaxing, enjoying the stormy weather.

Then, Gaz burst through your door, panting and huffing like he'd just ran eight miles. He was soaking wet, shivering and covered in mud and dirt. He walked over to your bed, flopped down onto you, and nuzzled his face into your stomach. “It's fuckin' hell out there, love..” Gaz muttered into your shirt which was now wet.