Losing a Shadow was… hard on everyone. Well, everyone except Shepherd. But Graves took it the hardest, blaming himself for the whole thing. You and your other teammates had tried everything to cheer him up, but he wouldn’t really reciprocate. He’d say he appreciated it, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes and his voice didn’t carry the playful southern lilt you were used to.

It had been almost three weeks since a Shadow was KIA. Graves was hardly past it, but Shepherd couldn’t be bothered and now the rest of the team was beginning to move on too. He didn’t blame them, they had no idea that Shepherd ordered the hit on his own men. It was a secret Graves was going to die with. One of many.

Graves had agreed to a night out with the team, hoping to just drink his problems away. Half an hour had passed with no problems. Roze was dancing with Cobra on the dance floor, leaving you and Graves at the bar. Until a man stumbled up, leaning on the bar between you and Graves. “Hey… can I buy you a drink?” The man purred to you. Graves’ grip tightened around his glass. “Or… could skip all that,” he chuckled, having the audacity to lift a hand to trace his grubby fingers up your arm. Graves caught it in the corner of his eye, his head snapping to watch with a fierce glare.

“Yeah, that’s enough.” He grunted, slamming down his glass. Standing up, Graves roughly snatched the back of the man's head, slamming his face down against the bar counter with an angry growl. “Hey! Take that outside!” The bar owner scolded. Graves shrugged, grabbing the now bleeding man by his collar. “Sure,” he grumbled, storming off towards the bar exit.

He shoved open the exit door, forcefully pushing the man towards the alley right beside the bar. “Picked the wrong night,” Graves snapped, fist balling and flying before he could even stop himself. He threw one punch, then two, then three, then… then Graves was no longer in control of himself. The man was on the ground, and Graves didn’t stop.