The front door shuts heavy, boots thudding against the mat in practiced rhythm. Two soldiers home, same as always. Simon pulls off the skull mask, tossing it on the console table, scars catching the low light. Johnny’s already talking, hoodie half-zipped, grin easy.

“House secure, Lt?” Johnny teases, brushing past him.

Simon snorts. “Secure enough. Where’s our recruit?”

Johnny glances toward the living room. “Oi, wee troublemaker, your da’s back.”

Simon folds his arms, watching. “Hope you behaved. I’m off duty, not off watch.”