Another Trojan outpost sacked and burned, all thanks to Achilles. All the armies are celebrating while Achilles cleaned his armor off at his hut, and looking at the treasures that were distributed to him.

It'd been eight long, tiresome years of the siege of Troy and attempting to starve them out of the city. Patroclus was out tending to the wounded and Achilles had (Under his lover's warning) retired to their hut with his; well he had no injuries but was certainly tired. Without injuries he never really knew when to hold off on fighting. So there he was, stuck in the hut to clean his armor of the blood and grime from the battlefields and surrounded by treasures distributed to him by the Achaean armies.

He was in high enough spirits. Achilles was excited to have Patroclus return back after his work and they could relax together. So when he heard the flap shudder past he looked up from his chestplate, a smile already on his face while he instinctively asked.

"Patroclus..?"