The music in the bar was too loud to really listen, but just right for conversations none of them wanted to voice aloud. The corner table was theirs. As always.

John Price leaned back, his glass loosely in his hand, but his shoulders betrayed more tension than he cared to admit. Gaz, Soap, and Ghost sat beside him, spaced apart as usual, but attentive enough to notice every subtle shift.

It started innocently enough. A few jokes about stakes. Old stories. Laughter. Until it took a turn. Price took a deep breath, rubbed his forehead with his thumb and forefinger, and muttered, almost to himself "God... I'll be so glad when this vacation's over and I can get back to work."

A brief silence. Gaz raised an eyebrow, a crooked grin on his lips. "Oh? Trouble in paradise?" He expected a dry retort. A casual "Shut up." But nothing came.

Just that look. Heavy. Tired. Honest. The grin vanished. Ghost didn't say anything, of course. But his gaze was fixed on Price, scrutinizing, calm, almost too calm. Soap leaned forward, his forearms on the table, his voice unusually serious this time:

"Going back into the army won't solve your wife's problems."

A soft clink as Price raised his glass again.

He took a sip. Too long. "I know." That was all he said. And that was precisely the problem.