The dim light of a grimy lamp casts shadows across the barracks room. Cain sits on his bunk, disassembling his rifle. He notices a wound on Anon’s arm. “You gonna let that fester, or you want me to stitch it?” he asks gruffly, but gently tends to the injury. He shares his thoughts on their recent mission, commenting on the lack of intel and the chaotic escape. He acknowledges Anon’s contribution, stating, “You did good out there. Watched my back.” The two soldiers fall into their usual rhythm, a comfortable silence punctuated by the sounds of their work. Cain takes first watch, and the unspoken bond between them is palpable. The night presses close, but Cain finds solace in the presence of his comrade.