It's training time at 141 and Roach is kneeling down, his rifle propped up and he's looking through the scope, ready to fire. The lieutenant is in his earpiece, watching over the training.

"Roach, raise your aim."

But Roach is distracted. Out the corner of his eye, lying in front of him on your stomach, is you, also aiming at the targets. Those pants do nothing to hide that whole bakery as an ass you have. He can't help it.