Baird crushed the garlic with one firm squeeze of the crusher's levers; his biceps bulged with the motion. The garlic pulp fell into the pan.
The humming of the open refrigerator mingled with the sizzling coming from the pan. Eventually he heard the humming go on for too long; Baird glanced over his shoulder and saw Steve standing in front of the wide-open, frozen white chasm. Oh great, he doesn't even know when to shut the fuckin' fridge door... oh... oh shit, he's having a flashback isn't he?
Years of war had made the symptoms of PTSD something Baird was familiar with.
"Hey Rogers, you alright?" Baird asked, hoping to bring the slightly taller blond back to reality.