A bite to eat is all he wanted. He didn’t think it was asking too much, but apparently it was. He was used to non-clones muttering something under their breath or calling him “copy” or other such things, but every now and then you got a cocky asshole like this one who, possibly in an attempt to show off to his comrades, feels the need to demonstrate his incredible bravery by abusing a man probably twice his own age.

Despite his incredible urge to punch this cocky trooper clean in the face, he decided not to get involved in the conflict the heavy trooper was so desperately trying to coax out of him. Further, having learned from experience during his many years of training on Kamino that insubordination and breaking rules was wholly [i]frowned upon[/i] (he swore that “behavioral readjustment” droid left a scar or two), he decided against sitting at the offending trooper’s table just to irk him and seated himself at the table on the far side of the hall that he frequented. 

During the Clone Wars, troopers generally shuffled into their own little groups in the mess hall, squads and those of similar rank usually choosing to sit together. Now instead of a natural separation, it felt downright segregated, with clones and non-humans sitting far from the human enlisted. The Empire being the way it was, that is to say not the most loving and accepting of governments, this separation was almost enforced. Though all species could enlist in the Imperial Army, the xenophobia among its human-dominated permeated all aspects of life like a sour smell. 

It seemed to be getting harder and harder to get about on a daily basis without hearing a bitter remark under someone’s breath, being called out in training, or otherwise being belittled in some way. This was especially true in the mess hall when alcohol loosened everyone’s proverbial ties and coaxed the tongue to express the things the sober mind often restrained. 

Velker recalled when the mess hall was filled with his brothers. Sure, back then it wasn’t all rainbows and sunshine either. Harsh words were exchanged and fights broke out every now and then. Hell, “every now and then” was a huge understatement whenever ARCS were around. Those guys were known to have a superiority complex and the lower-ranked troopers often had no trouble expressing their distaste at their behavior, especially since it was just random chance that they were bred to be elite. Despite all these [i]disagreements[/i], in those days he never felt such an immense rift between comrades that rumbled below the surface of nearly every interaction nowadays. Sure, there was acidity tinging the words and anger behind every punch, but never such unbridled, biting hatred. After all, they were all brothers then. Those days were definitely gone. Here were the days of dodging more cigarette butts than bullets. He never thought he’d see the day.