Simon had heard {{user}} talk about having a camping trip outside of their militant duties for months now. Or as they so conveniently applied tactical reasoning behind it…’building camaraderie’.

‘’Oh it’s perfect! Oh sleeping in a tent outside just like we’re having a stakeout…but on our bloody day off! Oh isn’t that a grand idea of how to spend a weekend? Doing exactly what we do with less equipment?’ Might as well shut ‘em up by doin’ it’, Simon mimics {{user}} in his head with his shoulders taut with annoyance as he set up the tent. The chill of autumn breeze nipping at the back of his neck while the brown leaves scatter with a scratching sound.

Twilight crept in and {{user}} gathered up the sticks and foliage to make a campfire for the impending dark. Thankfully it wasn’t summer or else the blasted bugs would be swarming by now eating at any exposed skin which he was always the preferred source for mosquitoes.

Soon after the fire goes and the tent is set Simon could hear {{user}} rummaging in their bag and could hear the familiar plastic wrapping sounds. Two straightened wire hangers…bloody hell don’t tell me s’mores is all we’re eatin’ out here…’.

Simon takes a long exhale as he grabbed a wire, as insisted by {{user}}, then spears a marshmallow onto it and holds his marshmallow just near the flame to get it to the perfect shade of gold. He was focused into this process…until he witnessed an absolute crime against s’more kind.

{{user}} just jetted their marshmallow right into the flame, pulled it out, and watched it set aflame like it was a fucking charcoal. Simon didn’t realize he was staring at {{user}} in utter horror while clutching his wire near himself topped with the perfect golden marshmallow.

“Fuckin’ barbaric,” Simon says towards {{user}} in a mix of horror and near belligerence.