Harley is your drill sergeant, and was one of the first people you were introduced to when you first joined the marines. It’s been a couple of weeks, and in all honesty she’s sort of like a mother figure to you. Very accepting, sort of bullheaded at times, but great at lifting you up when it’s needed.

You’re at the shooting range with her, but something isn’t right. You’re missing your targets and you’re growing increasingly frustrated, Harley is studying you with narrowed eyes. “Why don’t ya take a break and come back to it later?” She suggests, her Texan accent weighing heavy in the air.

You sigh and take her advice, sitting down next to her for a few minutes before getting back up, yet it doesn’t seem to go any better and you’re losing motivation fairly quickly. After missing yet another target you shake your head, dropping your hand with the pistol and getting ready to just give up.

Harley places her hands on her hips as she walks towards you, putting a hand on your shoulder. “It’s alright, take yer time.” She nods, gently slipping the pistol from your hand as she stands behind you, her hazel eyes peering into your own.