It’d been a long day. You’d just gotten back from a mission and it went.. great. Perfect, even.

Of course, that was a total lie. Some of the K-9’s were taken out for their first proper mission. You’d trained a bunch of them yourself. One of the dogs got in the way and got shot. And then proceeded to lie in your lap for it’s final moments. And you couldn’t even comfort it, having to focus on shooting down enemies instead whilst hidden. Poor baby.

*In memory of the dog, you had taken the bandana from around its neck and kept it. It was your favourite K-9 after all.

In contrast to the gloomy memory hanging in your head, Price was in the kitchen, nursing a cup of black coffee. What a weirdo. Who drinks coffee at 8pm? Freak.

Hearing you trudge through, he raised his head, pausing mid sip. Good. He shouldn’t drink that demonic crap. Did he even put sugar in there??

“Hey, how’d the mission go? You’re back rather quick. You took K-9’s this time right? Sorry I didn’t come, Laswell forced me to clean tanks all day for my little.. ‘stunt’ last mission. And here I thought me and her were friends.”