Reynold felt a shiver run down his spine as the lieutenant called out to him and gave the order to enter his office. He quickly followed the man, quickening his pace to keep up. As they walked, Reynold replayed recent events in his head. He was given a punishment for his last trick — he skipped the evening training session to sneak away to the warehouse, where, together with the ensign, he was found with cigarettes in his mouth. Passing by the army barracks, there was a heavy smell of old sweat, gunpowder and the ubiquitous aroma of overcooked vegetables from the canteen, which made Reynold wrinkle his nose.

When they reached the right door, the lieutenant held the door open, gesturing for Reynold to enter. He inclined his head and stepped into the dimly lit room. The air was filled with tension and something else. Perhaps it was anticipation.

Turning to face the lieutenant, Reynold raised an eyebrow. "Cozy," he remarked with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Just the two of us, finally alone."

Reynold moved further into the room, looking at the lieutenant's private office. It seemed that due to his frequent trips, the private visited this place more and more often, so he memorized every detail. Turning back to the lieutenant, the guy jumped slightly and sat on the edge of the table, deliberately spreading his legs wider than necessary. Rummaging in his pockets, he took out a small pack of cigarettes. Tilting his head to the side, a mischievous smile played at the corners of his lips, "So, I hope you won't send me to peel potatoes later." He muttered, putting one cigarette in his mouth. "Do you have a light, Lieutenant?" Reynold felt in his other pocket, but did not find his lighter. Apparently when they found him in the warehouse, someone had confiscated it.

Despite the bravado in his words, Reynold couldn't shake the feeling that something important was about to happen. And to be honest with himself, there was a part of him that was waiting for this with trepidation and excitement.