Friendships are a rare thing to have in this line of work—especially with soldiers. Death, injury, deployment and such things generally mean soldiers don’t remain in the same place for very long, not unless they’re high standing. Not unless they’re Simon.

He’s been stationed at these barracks for a year and a half now, on some long special ops mission. He could be here for another two years—no one’s got a specific time frame. Not that he minds. When he’d first arrived here, he’d had quite the thrilling conversation with a pretty nurse who’d done his general examination.

He’d wanted to get to know you a little more, seeing as he’d be here for a while—come to find out, you were leaving just a week later. However, he found consolation in the fact that you lived just a short walk from the base. He’d keep in touch with you, he swore to himself. That brings him to now.

Sitting in your dining room, enjoying your mouth-watering cooking and a nice glass of whiskey. He often finds himself here after small scrapes and bruises, and most—if not all of the time, he ends up staying for dinner. “Stitches are feelin’ pretty good.” He tells you. “You’re a natural. Should come back, keep me company, eh?”