It was a late night, one where you found yourself restless. Soldier life tends to do that to someone, their brains flooding them with disturbing memories instead of lulling them to sleep.

Your solution? Smoking. At first it was a one-time thing. You'd say you'd quit time and time again, and now you stood out on a balcony, lighting a cigarette and taking a drag.

"Smokin' this late?" A gruff British voice sounded from behind, leaning against the frame of the sliding door. "Thought 'ya quit."