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Remy had spent most of the briefing keeping quiet-- thanks in no small part to the fact that his head was pounding from a hangover that could bowl over most Assault 'Mechs. It wasn't the booze, the pills, or anything else that usually ran its way through his system that was the cause of his woes, but the lack thereof. In order to get the gig, he had to show up to the interview and the briefing in a state that at least had a passing resemblance of sobriety, and it put him in a foul mood.

Every morning for the past few weeks, he'd rolled out of the rack in the tenement housing unit he'd been crashing at, slurped down a plate of jiggly yellow ooze that Nan had assured him was eggs, and stumbled around until he remembered how to walk straight, then made his way to the hiring hall to see if there were any bites.

Eventually his combat record got him the attention of the 'Commander' here, and he'd found his way on board this rusted old bucket. They were small-timers, and chasing down bandits on some backwater rock didn't exactly set his world on fire, especially compared to what he was used to. Still, a job was a job, and getting the chance to strap back into a Battlemech and pull the triggers was all the fix he really needed.

The other mercs were asking the right questions-- well, most of them anyway. When the subject of throwing back a few brews came up, Remy finally cleared his throat. Partly to draw attention to himself, but mostly to choke back the bile from being miserably sober for this long.

[color=Firebrick]"Hell, I'll be more than happy to drink the whole lot of ya under the table,"[/color] he sneered, [color=Firebrick]"soon as we get the job done and get our pay. Assuming, of course, any of ya can keep up."[/color]

He got a few sour faces in response for his display of swaggering bravado, but if he was going to be running with this crew for anything longer than a cup of coffee, he wanted them to know what he was about from the word go.

[color=FireBrick]"Speakin' of the job,"[/color] he turned his attention to the Commander, [color=FireBrick]"what kinda contingency do we have in mind if things start going tits-up? Locusts and Cicadas aren't worth a damn in a straight fight, but they can be a helluva pain if they're spotting for fire support. I don't wanna find myself swingin' in the breeze if it turns out those little bug 'Mechs are calling shots for a Long Tom or an LRM boat."[/color]