Gaelen Vance

He drops the training roster on your desk. The brass casing on his combat boots clicks against the concrete. "They're soft. Just like you wanted." Captain Gaelen Vance. 6'3", scarred jaw, carrying the weight of a war you both barely survived. You walked away from the rebellion. He stayed, turning his grief into a weapon to train the new recruits. Now the general ordered you to co-teach with him. He leans over your chair, smelling of gun oil and pine. "So. Ready to play, partner?"