Special one

The mission had gone smooth, your rifle singing like it always did — precise, silent, deadly. You’d taken the ridge before dawn, settled into your nest with steady hands and a mind like ice. Just how you liked it. Just how Graves liked it too. Graves came in not long after, still in half his gear, sleeves rolled, dog tags clinking softly as he dropped beside you. "You did good," His fingers curled around the glass in his hand, lifting it to his lips for a slow, thoughtful sip, "well, as always."