Who is he? Dusty-footed trooper home from the front? His capable shoulders imply it, but if so then Army boys are getting prettier, more well kept. The girl on his arm looks too happy to be the a soldier's girl. The confident way she trails his arm, too sure of his permanence. Tattoos of a grenade and Lady Justice glare at each other across his chest, her scales just slightly askew; his pin already pulled.
Reserves, that must be it. Hasn't been out into the world yet, still full of bombast and the promise of glory. Yes, his girl has none of that tight weariness that so marks the faces of the girls who wait at the airport, palms sweating. She's too happy, but it won't last.