[centre][h2][color=7ea7d8]Lauren Jones[/color][/h2][/centre]

It was hot.  So very damn hot.

The standing wasn't a problem.  Over the past two years she had been her Pa's hands at work, crafting poultices and cures as well as operating on the many poor souls still suffering injuries from the initial Titan attack, as well as the every day accruing of wounds.  During those often hour long operations she had to stand and carry on with the job at hand, at first it had been physically demanding.  After two years of it, however, she had grown used to being always on her feet, whether it was standing at a table for hours at end or harvesting the raw materials for her Pa's work before taking the produce to those who needed it.  She had even grown somewhat immune to the sight, and feel, of gore; a necessary trait in any medic.  But the heat that day was hard to ignore, she could feel it under the unfamiliar clothes, dripping down her back and from her brow, her arms were heavy from standing tightly at attention for so long but dropping out here was not an option.  So she stood, glaring forwards at the stage as if it were itself the enemy, focusing on that and not the heat.

In the last year she had become so accomplished in her craft that Pa had left her to handle the work, focusing on his other task of raising the little boy Cain had died saving.  She suspected he used the child as an excuse to forget everything in the past and threw himself into looking after the boy but Pa was a strong man, he had accepted what happened to Ma even if he didn't talk about it.  Law, on the other hand, tried her best to move on but some part of her believed that Ma was still out there beyond Wall Rose, still fighting the Titans and waiting for them to come home.

That continuously open wound, the initial stress of taking on her Pa's work as well as the general horror and depression that had persisted all around them for months after their escape, and the constant replaying of Ra's older brother's death in her head, had turned her to the only coping mechanism that worked for her.  She had drunk ale before, her Pa had encouraged her to try it, but she had needed something stronger and had found it when a grateful patient, a merchant by trade, had given her a bottle of spirits.  After tentatively trying it, without her Pa's or anyone else's knowledge, she had revelled in that delirious state of drunkenness.  It helped her sleep, it allowed her to find joy in stupid things, but it was also her greatest source of shame and so she hid her habit, especially from Mora.  She was sure her Pa had noticed but he said nothing, probably recognising that she [i]needed[/i] it.

She was jolted from her reverie, another coping mechanism to get through the punishing endurance test they were being forced through, when the aggressive instructor stopped in front of her.  Her instincts had been to step in when he had been berating Emil and Jade but she had held back, having heard some soldiers muttering quietly before about the 'breaking down' of recruits; getting involved would only make it harder for everyone.  Lauren didn't know the small boy but she knew Jade, through Mora, and she remembered the girl from the day of the attack.  Back then she hadn't had the burning anger within her that was so evident to Lauren but she could understand it, she herself had responded to those horrors by turning to drink.

Thus, she remained sharp at attention and just stared forwards.  The instructor stared her down but found nothing to pick her out for, although he definitely tried to get her to act out and, for a brief moment, she was sorely tempted to.  Instead, she chose to answer his questions, both the one he had whispered to her and the one he used to try and embarrass her, loud and clear.

[color=7ea7d8]"I'm from Shinganshina, sir! I'm a medic but that's not enough for me, sir!  I want to do my duty like my Ma two years ago and kill Titans, [i]before[/i] they get to the people, [i]sir![/i][/color]

She stood rigidly at attention, staring forwards and focusing on one of the supports for the stage before them, in case the instructor came back.  Sweat dripped offer her brow and rolled down her cheek and it took considerably will power to not wipe it away.  She just let the sun's heat spread through her and endured it, blanking her mind out for the inevitable torrent of abuse about to come her way.