Uncharted | JOHN-117

01

Ben has a flair for the dramatics, often spinning tales. Today seems to be no exception.

I raise an eyebrow at him curiously. "Another one of your legendary tales, I presume?"

"You bet," he replies. "This one's a real doozy, I promise."

And just like that, he launches into his story, painting a vivid image with his words. We stop jogging a quarterway through his story, opting to walk as he talks and I listen. His enthusiasm is infectious, and despite knowing that he tends to embellish his adventures a lot, I find myself hanging onto his every word.

But as he reaches the climax of his story, something doesn't quite add up. I squint my eyes at him, catching a discrepancy in his account.

"Wait a minute," I interrupt, slowing my pace slightly to glance at him. "Didn't you say that you were on patrol duty near the outskirts when the Grunt ambush happened?"

His expression falters for a split second, a telltale sign that he's been caught in his elaborate web. Poking holes in the fabric of his narratives until it unravels before my eyes is sometimes more enjoyable than his very real recounts. Before he can save face, I press him further, a mischievous smile spreading across my face.

"Because if I recall correctly," I continue in amusement, "the only time you have been on that planet, you were supposedly on a reconnaissance mission in a completely different location."

His eyes widen in mock surprise and he stops dead in his tracks."It must have been another planet then!" He slaps his forehead. "Sometimes the details get fuzzy in the retelling. I'm sorry about the confusion. We'll add that as another aspect of my charm, yes?"

"Yes, you're 'charm,' Ben. I'm well aware of it," I tease with a light laugh. My gaze falls from his eyes to the slight imperfection that adds character to his features. His nose, once broken and now set slightly askew. It catches the morning light in a way that's strangely mesmerising."Just like the way you charm your way out of telling people how you really broke your nose."

His grin turns sheepish as he sends me a knowing look, his left hand absentmindedly raising to his nose, his fingers skimming subconsciously over it. "Ah, the infamous nose incident."

"Yes, the 'infamous' nose incident."

"You know me, always been a bit of a rebel. No seat belt, a little too much speed, a sudden encounter with a solid object, and voila-"

"-You crash the Warthog, break your nose and dislocate your friends' shoulder," I finish for him. I wince as I momentarily reminisce about the private conversation that occurred shortly after between my father and Ben. Perhaps that's why he avoids the real story. Or, it's simply just his penchant for embellishment."You're lucky it wasn't worse."

"Well, you know what they say, Mak," he says with a wink. "Live fast, die young, and leave a good-looking corpse."

"And what about me in that situation?" I gasp in fake outrage.

"Two good-looking corpses?" he suggests.

"You're terrible, you know that right?" I ask him, though there's a warmth in my voice that belies my words.

A faint buzz interrupts our shared smile, emanating from the electronic watch strapped to my wrist. I glance down to see the display lit up in urgency- a message from my mother, commanding my immediate presence at the lab.

"Thy mother requests thy presence," I sigh aloud.

I shoot her a short text that says, 'Okay.'

Ben nods his head in understanding. "Duty calls. I get it. We're heading the same way right?"