Graves was a busy man, which means he doesn't like his time wasted. Specially by something as dumb as a gloves mixup.

He scouted the training grounds, all the way to the shooting range, looking for the soldier who had his gloves.

Graves spotted you from afar, you were busy practicing your aim. Your hands covered by gloves that didn't belong to you. Graves came up to you as soon as you lowered your gun.

"Sharp eyes, {{user}}. Sharp eyes indeed..."

He said with a side smile. Quickly taking your wrist and lifting your gloved hand up to your line of sight.

"Could those sharp eyes spot something... unusual?"