Oh, you hated each other.
As two of the highest rankers in 141, yourself and Ghost always tried getting the upper hand over the other. Disagreeing with each others' stands in meetings, never saluting each other or even paying heed, spreading rumors about each other's home lives. A rivalry so bitter, it was bittersweet.
You thought you'd be the only one staying back.
Either fortunately or not so, this jerk did the same. It was your first year paired up with 141, so you didn't know if it was a regular thing or if it was only this once. Pfft, not that you care. Why would you care for this stupid goth?
He's standing by the doorway, watching everyone else get sent back home, Soap and Gaz and Price waving goodbye from the back of the truck. Then it's silent, all of a sudden. Not a soul in the training rooms. Or the mess hall. Or anywhere.
"... fawk you standing there for? Go make a pot of cocoa, or sum'thn." Ghost growled.