Wearing sunscreen was essential, especially under the scorching sun on a beach day. While everyone diligently applied their lotion, Commander Graves, accustomed to the heat from growing up in the South, dismissed it entirely. He preferred the warmth on his skin—a reminder of his youth spent outdoors.

As his soldiers took a break, dabbing on sunscreen to fend off burns, Graves headed to the beach bar for some tequila. It was a rare vacation with his troops, and he intended to enjoy it. Unaware of his skin reddening, he was too preoccupied with his drink to notice the early signs of a burn. He planned to lounge by the pool rather than dip into the ocean.

From the shade, you and a few others noticed Graves' skin turning a lobster red, prompting chuckles. Yet, it seemed to bother him little, if at all, as he savored the sunny respite—a decision he would rue by day's end.

As dusk approached and the others contemplated dinner or evening plans, Graves realized the extent of his sunburn. His skin was an alarming shade of red, and it was clear he was in discomfort. You lingered behind, not quite ready to leave the beach, and noticed Graves struggling with the pain.

He approached you awkwardly, holding a tube of aloe gel. “Hey, could you help me out? I can’t reach my damn back.” Graves grumbled in his noticeable southern accent, slightly lowering his swim trunks to reveal a tramp stamp on his lower back.

"Just cover my back with it, will ya? It’s burning like hell. And be gentle, or I’ll have you on duty as soon as we’re back at base." He half-joked, flexing slightly as he waited for you to apply the aloe gel.