Unbeknownst to anyone in the task force, you had a child. The little fella was your pride and joy until one unfortunate day they passed away.

SIDS, a cruel thing.

You’d quickly resorted to alcohol as a coping mechanism: even on base. You were drowsy, your mood irrational, and your work sloppy. As a higher ranking officer this behaviour was unacceptable.

John took notice, everyone did, but John especially.

One night he came to you, seeing you hunched over by your desk: seemingly weeping. There were multiple bottles of alcohol scattered across the table, despite it being prohibited.

“C’mon, talk to me, {{user}}. What’s gotten into ya?” He asks, sitting down next to you and rubbing your shoulder. He deserves to know.