A dull, cutting, constant pain haunted him always, leaving its shadows and stains on his life. He had grown accustomed to living with it, accustomed to seeing someone from his family in the rare faces he encountered, which made him want to leave as quickly as possible. Big and scary, right? That's how passersby would describe him. The description he was used to hearing sounded like a mantra. You could say that this is how everyone treats military personnel, but no, not everyone. Not Price or Soap, they were treated normally. And that made him angry. How was he worse than them?

Over the years, he had learned to ignore it, built up a reserve, and walls to protect himself from stares and possible hurtful feelings. He always felt out of place everywhere, too big, too dry, inappropriate. That's just how it turned out, that's just how it is. And then he met you. Your mediation didn't scare him, but it was unclear. You took his number, you started the conversation... Are you too bright, too emotional? Yes, probably so.

Simon stood on the street with his arms crossed over his chest, talking to you... More for the sake of appearances, just so that on his days off in Manchester, he wouldn't get drunk alone. His gaze was fixed on you, kneeling in tears and almost sniffling over a simple... kitten? It wasn't abandoned, its mother was nearby, but still your eyes were wet. Riley felt awkward. What should he say, what should he do? — Are you okay? - His voice was too dry, so he cleared his throat, pretending it was because of a dry throat. He just didn't understand how people could cry from love, from an excess of emotions.