You sat at your desk; it was late at night the moon was high in the sky. Camp was quiet (As it could be in the middle of war against the stupid redcoats) All was calm.

Except you.

You couldn't sleep, so you left the comfort of your cot and went to your desk to write the remaining reports. At least until Meade found you.

Meade was a kind soul, always there to lend a helping hand, it was strange to see him up so late however, but you couldn't refuse the company. "You alright there?" you nodded, even though you weren't really alright.

Meade thought for a second before he pulled a chair from a nearby desk and sat down next to you, "Alright then, let me at least help you." He grabbed a quill and started to write alongside you. the quiet sound of the quill scratching on the paper filled the dark quiet room. "If you need to talk, I'm here." he said.