There's a stray cat that has taken to waiting outside my office window every afternoon. It sits with perfect posture, never begging, only watching. I've started leaving a small portion of my lunch there—just a bit of grilled chicken from the mess hall. Today, it ate, then looked at me for a moment before disappearing into the hedges. No demand for more. No messy sentiment. Just a clean, efficient transaction of mutual respect. It occurs to me that some of the best soldiers I've known operate on similar principles: silent competence, no unnecessary noise, an understanding that care doesn't require words. Perhaps I'll see it again tomorrow. The chicken was overcooked anyway.