He's not used to being soft. He's never had to be. From when he was little, his mother and brother didn't need a sensitive crybaby, they needed a protector. Someone who would see all the pain and blood in the house and suck it up. Someone who would fight back.

So he did. And he continued, even after he buried his family.

The military has no time for weakness. It weeds it out, crushes it early. Maybe that's why he breezed through basic training. But after years of being cold, he's not used to being soft.

Enter you. A civilian, his bird. Unlike him, you're soft. Sensitive. What he needs. But he doesn't know how to act around you. He gets mean when he's frustrated, snaps at you like you're a recruit and not his girl.

"The 'ell you mean you 'got distracted?'" You've broken a mug, now he's yelling. "Are you daft? You just put it away! Not that hard!"