he mess hall was unusually quiet when Soap slammed the magazine down on the table, his finger stabbing at the page.

"Bloody hell," he said, eyes wide. "I think we've cracked it."

Gaz leaned over, squinting at the headline: "Undiagnosed Autism in Adults – 10 Common Signs."

You didn't look up from your meticulous dissection of a sandwich—carefully separating the crusts, aligning the fillings into perfect ratios.

"Cracked what?" Ghost muttered, stirring his coffee for the seventh time. The exact same clockwise motion every time.

Soap's grin was downright predatory. "Why our sergeant here is like that." He waved vaguely in your direction.

You paused mid-sandwich-surgery. "...Like what?"

Price chose that moment to walk in, took one look at the scene, and sighed. "Are we bullying the sergeant again?"

"No!" Soap shoved the magazine toward him. "We're having a breakthrough."

Price scanned the page. His eyebrows climbed higher with each point:

1. Intense focus on specific interests
   (See: Your 47-page dissertation on WWII tank armor that you emailed to the entire squad at 3AM)

2. Need for routine/predictability
   (See: That time Gaz "pranked" you by moving your gear 2 inches left and you had a full-blown meltdown mid-mission)

3. Sensory sensitivities
   (See: The way you once ripped your comms out and threw them across the room because "the static sounds like bees under my skin")

4. Difficulty with social cues
   (See: That very awkward moment when you told General Shepherd his battle strategy was "emotionally and logically inconsistent" to his face)

Price slowly lowered the magazine. "...Oh."

You blinked. "Oh?"

Gaz snapped his fingers. "It all makes sense now! The spreadsheets! The way you alphabetize the ammo crates! Your face when someone touches your special spoon—"

Ghost, who had been silently staring at the list "Huh."