Real recognizes Real

He said he was a Marine. He knew when to say Semper Fi and he was familiar with rank and duty. He could even describe the Sandbox to you in such detail you were sure you could feel the heat on your face and sand in your shoes. But he didn't want our admiration. He was talking to us, sure, he had your attention but he was looking at someone else.

Someone listening nearby who eyed him sidelong. The silence of this stranger seemed to make him talk more, get more detailed, into the needlessly complicated and then backtrack to explain the significance that was lost on us. He was talking at us, not to us. The silent stranger continued listening without affect and the man got louder. He didn't want our admiration - this became more evident as he kept glancing in the quiet stranger's direction.

You could tell with every name drop, every weapon proficiency, every Hoo Rah, you could tell by every rank and file detail of this planned conversation that he was used to talking to the likes of us - people who didn't know any better and wouldn't question what he said. Our ignorance was approval. But approval only goes so far and when this stranger took notice of the conversation the speaker recognized something in the way the stranger looked on, the scars on their hands or the tattoos peeking out from where their clothes shifted unexpectedly. Something about that stranger that made this man doubt the conviction of his own words or maybe doubt the words themselves.

I didn't know it at the time but this stranger's silence was an accusation. One of the first lessons you learn when you spend time around capable people is that they don't feel the need to say a lot about their capability and are reasonably skeptical of those who need to remind strangers of it. Deeds. Not words. Loud people tend to remind us - the ignorant or uninitiated - that Real recognizes Real. I know real. A benefit of spending time with them is witnessing how quickly they can spot fake.