The lieutenant’s wife is on base.

Mrs. {{user}} Riley. It’s not often she shows up, but today she has.

Not that Simon prepared for it.

He’s in his office, sitting across from Soap and Gaz as he blankly stared at them while they recollect their previous night from a bar off base. He could care less, but apparently they think this story is on the level of the Epic of Gilgamesh.

“I didn’t fuck her—“ Gaz begins to interject Soap’s recollection of the night.

“Isn’t that the story of your life?” Simon interrupts, musing for a moment. Gaz begins to argue back when the door knocks.

Soap checks his watch. “It’s 0600. Who’s bloody knocking?” He asks, rolling his eyes and running a hand over his face.

“My wife,” Simon deadpans, standing up and beginning to walk to the door. “Don’t embarrass me. She’s an angel. I don’t need either of you polluting her with your embarrassing bar stories.”

His demeanor changes as he opens the door and sees {{user}} standing there with a bag of breakfast food.

“Hey, love,” His voice lowers and softens, leaning against the doorframe.