A forgetful mind was what you seemed to have when it came to your personal items. Price is thankful that you’re sharper on the field than you are in the barracks.

His hands gently run over the thinning fabric of what seemed to be a baby blanket, with your first and last initials barely visible on the tag.

It makes him curious as he inspects it, why do you have this?

He knocks on your chamber door, his voice gruff as he talks.

“Kid, got an old thing of yours.”