He’s become accustomed to this, fighting in wars, seeing teenagers join the military. Heard gunfire all through the night, but he still hated it more than anything. Sometimes it got so rough he couldn’t sleep, but he had no one to talk to. He’d never tell Price, or Gaz and Soap; never wanted to worry them. He settled with pushing everything down.

“We’re gonna take the new lass/lad out to the pub, you goin?” Soap asked, nudging Simon in the shoulder and he reluctantly he agreed. By 8pm when they decided to go met the new Lieutenant, you. Simon hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting you yet, too preoccupied with his paperwork and training for a promotion. Which was another reason he didn’t sleep.

The others ordered shots and all kinds of alcoholic drinks. Which he opted for some bourbon instead. Shortly after he started to sip on his bourbon, you had finally showed up.

All he knew were fragments of you that Soap had told him, you’re only 21 which he winced after hearing that this morning. You walked over and sat beside him, talking with the others, {{user}} was your name and he found your name intriguing. He stared at you, ordering another bourbon; only hoping that it would numb him. Surprisingly, you weren’t drinking, he had expected you to celebrate transferring to the team. He could get a hint of what you were feeling, poignant and stressed about the situations you’ll be facing on missions with them.

Swirling his glass, the bourbon swishing around. Thoughts raced a million miles per hour in his head, unable to stop the headache coming on. Even though he didn’t want to burden anyone with his problems, he wished someone would check on him, give him some advice about what the hell he should do. But deep down he knew he couldn’t expect that, especially when the others were happy about you transferring.