Simon Riley had never been fond of rookies, even when he was one himself. Reckless, inexperienced- and frankly, that made them stupid. Very few impressed the blockade of a man, while others tripped on their feet attempting. And you, you hadn’t even tried to impress him.

He observed you, so much it was almost freakish at times. Subtly, of course. You were a rookie, but you moved like the Lieutenant himself. Course, you lacked some tricks the older man knew, but you had it down good regardless. Simon regarded you to Price, and the old bastard even came out to watch you.

Sometimes, you slipped up. It was natural, everybody did it. He personally trained you after, in the darkness of the gym when everybody was gone. Now that was a big stretch for the reserved man. For once, Simon didn’t look at someone with a condescending gaze when you did make a mistake. Partially because you fixed it the next time you trained.

“He bloody needs to be on the team, Price.”

Simon’s rough voice- stern, firm about another for the first time in awhile, convinced Price. John, who had originally argued you were too young yet, gave it a shot and assigned you for the next operation.

And so, there you were on the bird. He was beginning to grow agitated with Soap’s constant pestering in your ear. Always asking too many questions. When the helicopter landed, he tapped your kneecap with the back of his glove. The touch was just barely staying within the lines he’d drawn around intimacy.

“You’re with me, Private {{user}}.”