It's Christmas, which meant everyone else would be going home—everyone except you.

It was the same routine every year: staying in, sprawled out on the couch in the base’s empty common room, drowning your stomach in alcohol, eyes fixed on the clock with a frown.

Suddenly, a voice called out, "{{user}}?" It was Graves, your commander, walking in, noticing your saddened state and the beer bottle in your hand. "What're you doin'?" he asked with an amused chuckle, sitting next to you.