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Simon had been out of the military for months now, he found a small quiet flat in Glasgow. Whilst civilian life never felt like it was for him, he was attempting to fit in as much as he can. He never realised how boring the mundane life was, though he didn’t wish to be shot at every waking moment, having nothing to do was almost worse.
When he left the military, he took the step to see a therapist about the ongoing issues since childhood and the scars that were left both mentally and physically by Roba. She had suggested some kind of pet or service animal, one that would be able to look out for the signs of one of Simon’s spirals. Not that long before he was discharged, he remembered a canine unit that was injured during a covert operation. Knowing that the dog would end up in a home or a shelter, he reached out to the hound’s handler, trying to see if he could pull some strings to gain custody of the dog. He knew he wouldn’t be able to settle for a dog without at least a modicum of military training. Months later, Simon was walking out of the compound with a military dog, newly trained to help him specifically; coincidentally, it seemed like the dog was meant for him as he found out the dog had been known as Riley. He was sure Price would have gotten a kick out of that.
This now meant that his old routine needed to be changed, to now include a morning walk around the park with Riley. It had started as a way to keep him from getting too bored, but now Riley and Simon had begun to like their morning walks together.
This morning was not unique, Simon woke up dreadfully early, his body still running on military time, and slid Riley’s harness over him. Whilst Simon no longer wore the skull mask, he still felt too vulnerable to be seen bare-faced, so instead settled for a black surgical mask and his hood pulled low over his face. He wouldn’t be questioned for that; Scottland was increasingly cold this time of year so no one would fault him for having an extra layer of warmth. The park he usually went to was dead this time of the day, no one wanted to be up this early, especially on a Sunday. He liked being out at this time. The world always seemed so quiet, and no one would bother him seemingly too busy with their own problems if they were even out this early. He walked over to the small green he and Riley often frequented to let him off the lead and take off his harness. Simon reached into his hoodie pocket to pull out the tennis ball for Riley. The repetitive motions of throwing the ball and having Riley race to bring it back to him often soothed his frazzled mind. He could always rely on Riley’s solid form to be there during a bad day or night.
~~~
John hadn’t had enough time for his morning run for a couple of months now. He would usually scold himself for this level of carelessness, it wouldn’t do to lose the skill and stamina he worked a year for in the military. Even if he had left almost a year ago. He couldn’t get sloppy. On his second round through the park and surrounding areas, he thought he could hear a faint barking up ahead. Thinking it was just his imagination playing tricks on him he paid it no mind. Until he stopped in his tracks at the sight of a German Shepard chasing and bouncing after a ball.
Although it had been many years since the incident that caused the scar on his face, the fear of dogs it had left in its wake had stayed. He had seen several therapists about it over the years, wanting to get over what he thought was a pathetic fear, but none had been successful until a couple of months ago when it was suggested that he tried exposure therapy. Since then, he had tried to say hello to almost every dog he saw. If he could stomach it that day that is. So far, it seemed to be working. Though there was some weariness at seeing such a large breed of dog, which was often used in military settings, he powered through it and scanned his eyes around the green trying to find the owner of the large dog. Johnny didn’t have to look too hard though because moments later, the excitable hound was running over to a large man almost hiding in the shadows of the trees.
Soap began to make his way over, intending to ask if the dog was friendly and if he was allowed to greet them. Although the sight of a 6’4 man covered almost head to toe in loose-fitting black clothes, a black surgical mask coving half his face and the hood of his jumper coving the rest wasn’t what John was expecting, he didn’t let it shock him. Who was he to judge at almost 0430 in the morning?
‘Scuse me’ the Scots words didn’t cause an obvious reaction, not a flinch or twitch, ‘Was jus wonderin if ye dogs friendly?’
Now that seemed to provoke a response from the masked man. His eyes widening just minutely, probably unnoticeable to most others, but when you’ve been in the SAS as long as Johnny had, you learnt to pick up small details. This reaction, however, was not what he was expecting. It was quite the opposite of the fuck off he anticipated. But this then caused the most unintelligent rambling to burst forth out of Soap’s mouth, ‘its fine if they aint, im jus trying ta socialise more with dogs. Ye see my therapist suggested it an-‘
Not cruelly, the taller man interrupted his rambling with a sharp whistle. Soap slightly stumbled backwards at the speed the young dog raced back to its owner, brushing past him to sit obediently at their feet.
Attempting to make his ramblings more coherent John took a deep breath and tried to ask as confidently as possible, ‘Can I pet your dog?’ at the larger man’s nod he crouched down and held out his hand for the dog to sniff, it wouldn’t do to startle the poor creature now. Not when their owner looked like he could snap him like a twig. As the dog began to sniff Johnny’s had and creep closer and closer, he looked up at the man, ‘whats their name?’ he knew he probably could just look down at the tag attached to the collar, but it never hurt to try and make a few more friendships where you lived.
The masked man cleared his throat a moment before replying, ‘He’s called Riley’ undeterred by the short response, Soap decided to make enough conversation for the both of them. ‘He ex-military? Very well behaved if not,’ this drew a nod from the taller man while Johnny scratched behind Riley’s ears, earning a thump of his tail on the ground.
‘How d’ya know?’ many wouldn’t recognise the small tells of a military dog and would often just push them under the trained aspects of a service dog.
‘Worked in the SAS for a while,’ he held out his hand, ‘Sgt John MacTavish, you aint from around here though are ye,’
They shook hands as the man introduced himself, ‘L.T Simon Riley, just moved here not long ago.’
John snickered a little at the idea of this man naming his dog after himself but decided against mentioning it.
‘I can show you round if ye want? Ye got a pen?’ Simon reached into his pocket finding a plain black biro, handing it to the Scot. He hadn’t quite registered what the other man was planning on doing, but when a hand slightly warmer than his own gently pulled his hand towards the other, he flinched slightly, before realising the other was simply writing his number down. Simon was out of his depth here. He didn’t expect himself to chuckle and pull out his phone with his other hand. Johnny looked at the device in his hand and mentally kicked himself, that would have been so much easier.
‘that woulda been smarter wouldn’t it,’ he shook his head softly, ‘anyway, theres a nice café down the road maybe you wanna meet there another day? An I’ll show u round,’
From what Johnny could see there was a slight blush rising up simon’s face, before nodding softly, ‘I’d like that’