[center][h3]PFC James Hunt|Le Haye Sainte-Post Battle[/h3][/center]

James looked towards the house the others were in from his position in one of the more wrecked ones, his rifle aimed out of some well placed boards so he could pick off any infantry coming up the road that he heard or saw. He knew they probably had orders to rest up, but sleep evaded the militia-attached soldier as he looked out the partially destroyed doorway towards his squadmates. After the argument he and Durandal had had, he didn't feel like dealing with anyone else. Sure, he shouldn't have kissed her, but no one seemed in any rush to get them medical supplies and he needed to do something to try and keep her from falling asleep. [i]Bunch of militia numbskulls. If they took the time to train these guys in at least basic field care, then Lilly wouldn't have lost more blood during the loss of pressure on her wounds. Riserre went too damn far...[/i]

With a sigh, he leaned back against the wall behind him and looked out towards the road. Even if they'd miraculously come out of the fight without any serious injuries, they let Imps get away, meaning they'd be back with help. The wounded were important, but so was keeping the Imps from coming down on them with their, right at that moment, superior force. He settled to keep his own watch until sleep took him and he laid on his belly, sighting down his rifle, the damaged sniper against the wall behind him, and settled in for a long night.