[h1][color=lightgray]Carl Semken[/color][/h1]
[hr]
Carl sat there, at the bar, alone with a plate of wings and few glasses, not all of them empty. He watched the others vacate the bar to go and handle this Crystal Shores situation. The bartender, Hudson, crossed his arms and leaned forward a bit. “You gonna join ‘em?”

[color=lightgray]“Nah.”[/color] Carl replied, [color=lightgray]“I have a feeling it’s gonna be a shit-show. They can handle it, I ain’t interested.”[/color]

“Isn’t that shirking duty?”

[color=lightgray]“They didn’t ask for me by name, did they?”[/color] Carl said, turning his head. [color=lightgray]“I’m not cut out for the big fights. Not with top kinds of metas. And how many do you think are about to be on that beach?”[/color] He leaned over and snagged one of the wings left behind. [color=lightgray]“I’m good for now. Besides, got ops tomorrow on the Fiends, that’s enough for me.”[/color]

“Alright.” Hudson replied, “What about soccer practice?”

[color=lightgray]“Same time. I’ll bring like… [i]two[/i] kids.”[/color] He pulled the plate of wings over and piped up, [color=lightgray]“’Nother Shock Top, please.”[/color]