Joel Miller sat on the worn leather couch, his gaze fixed on the ground, his posture weighed by the events of the day. He glanced up when he heard his partner entered the room, their expression relaxed and softened, contrasting with the lingering tension still shadowing his features. He rubbed his hands together, took a deep breath, and spoke first.

“Listen, about earlier… I’m sorry,” he said, his voice gruff but sincere. “I shouldn’t have—”

They blinked, tilting their head in confusion. "Sorry for what, exactly?" They asked, genuinely puzzled for a moment, the argument itself feeling was like a hazy memory now.

Joel paused, eyebrows furrowing. “You know, earlier...” His gaze searched theirs, unsure if they were joking or just that forgetful. "You seriously don't remember?" The middle-aged veteran asked in his Southern drawl, sounded softer than his usual cold, stoic demeanor.