Reliant ~ [John Soap MacTavish]

XXIV. Smoke

We got everything we needed, and the way back to base passed by in a blip. Ever since we got our hands on those devices, my mind has been on overdrive, thinking of ways to disable the advanced piece of technology.

It's hard.

Too fucking hard.

My fist smacks against the cold shower wall with a thud, though the water falling down of the shower head muffles most of it. My eyes fall on my own wrist, seeing the tattoo that matches with Keegan's, surrounded by a number of scars.

Why is everything so fucking complicated?

Turning off the shower, I quickly dry off and get myself ready for the night. I wasn't planning on sleeping anytime soon though, as my mind's off button seemingly hides behind a thick veil of unanswered questions.

Reaching over to the picture frame I retrieved from the old base, I avoid looking at the photo inside. Instead, I turn the frame around, my fingers deftly manipulating the small metal latch that secures the back.

With a gentle push, the back of the frame gives way, and three cigarettes tumble out, causing the small notebook hidden in the frame to shift.

My fingers glide over the notebook hesitantly, thinking back to the time I had penned in it last. Sighing, I close the picture frame back up again, not wanting to dive into it at this moment.

With the picture frame and its hidden secrets safely concealed, I extract one of the cigarettes that fell out. I slide it between my middle and pointer fingers, absentmindedly flipping and twisting it as I get up to find a quiet spot.

I don't have a specific destination in mind. All I know is that I need to be outside, and the first thing that comes to mind is the small garden in the center of the base.

As I wander the hallways, my cigarette idly dances between my fingers. I hear distant voices and laughter echoing from the common room. The rest have gathered there, most likely seeking a brief respite from the shadows of the profession.

Part of me longs for the warmth and the escape the group offers, but tonight, I'm not in the mood for company.

Finally, I reach my destination—the center garden. The moonlight softly filters through the leaves, casting shadows on the foliage beneath. I spot the same bench I had occupied during my last visit with Keegan.

As I approach the bench, I remain preoccupied with my thoughts. The solitude of the garden is what I came here seeking. However, just when I'm about to sit down and delve deeper into my contemplation, a small bud in the darkness lights up orange.

"You alright there, Alex?" Price's voice suddenly pierces through the silence. His words emerge from the obscurity, startling me with their unexpectedness.

I hesitate, unsure of what to do next. Would he be bothered by my presence?

After a moment of silent contemplation, I take a step toward the sound of his voice. "Fine," I say. "Can I sit?"

He nods in the darkness, his fingers curled around a thick cigar as a grunt of approval sounds from his throat.

I sit down beside him, keeping a safe distance between the two of us, but still close enough that a whisper could pass. But it's just silent for a while. A silence that is broken by the sound of me reaching for my own cigarette, and the creaking of the wooden bench beneath my shifting body.

"Are you a smoker?" Price sighs, his gaze kept in front of us and not focused on me.

"No. Not really," I let out a sigh of my own while answering. "A stress smoker, I suppose.."