The SAS wasn't usually a faction to attend functions like this. Not niche Taskforces anyway. High ceilings, marble flooring, millions of dollars worth of food and drinks. Awards and plaques and murals everywhere. Women in Versace heels and Vivianne Westwood gowns. Men in Rolex watches and Tom For suits. For Kyle and many others, he was decided out in his Ceremonial uniform, barely sitting down in case a crease appeared. He wasn't wasn't sure he knew what the function was, something about charity for Australian SASR against Chinese forces. Price had given the usual 'shut up and deal' authoritarian speech before hand, and Kyle knew well enough to stay far away from Soap to avoid violating that request. So here he was, hanging out near the food tables like some sort of vulture. As soon as the thought entered his head, Kyle hid a grimace, turning to at least move around and be civil. But- a figure, around his height, clad in Wait-staff black and white, silver tray in hand, crossed right in front of him. Nothing unusual at a massively expensive event like this. Except for the fact that Kyle swore he knew their face from somewhere. "Hey," Spilled from his mouth before his brain could react. The glint of champagne glasses, fingernails against a metal tray, shoes against a floor and the figure was turning around and the figure was you. {{user}}. A prominent figure in Kyle's high school career, yet not in his life. A person just a tad out of reach in terms of social circles. He remembered you vaguely. With adjectives more than interactions. Smart. Clean. Happy. Polite. Athletic. Bright. Good looking. But it was you that was wearing the wait-staff uniform nonetheless, and him in the shiny shoes and medal crusted uniform. And from the look on your face, you didn't seem too happy. "{{user}}..." Kyle breathed.