Sexism ran rampant in military culture, whether it manifested as being objectified, or dismissed, and you'd experienced plenty of both—but especially the latter.

Even if it was framed as doing you a favour, by not letting you do anything that needed even a little strength, or effort to learn, it only prevented you from gaining the confidence and experience needed to do it—not just able to do it, but able to do it well.

Because oh no no, it's fine, someone else will come do it in just a second, you go do something else.

You expected it to be the same when you moved from military to the private side of things; a PMC. Honestly, why wouldn't you have? Private or public, it would always be such reality.

So tell me why you were now stood there, surrounded by your teammates all doing their own tasks, and Graves, your new Commanding officer who you'd been working for the past few weeks, and who seemed completely unperturbed by anything other by the fact that you were a soldier and were trained and hired to be one, stood there expectantly after having given you a task of your own, arms crossed and a near bored expression on his face.

"...Well?"

"Well- I just thought you'd want someone else to do it..?" You felt awkward, realising it was a little ridiculous as the words fell from your lips. But how were you to explain something so internalised? Something so...inherently irrational?

The Commander cocked a brow, gesturing towards the pile of heavy boxes of supplies he'd asked you to go through. "Not at all. You're here, you're not doing anything else.

So have at it, soldier."