[b][right]o f f i c e r ' s _ l o u n g e[/right][/b][hr]The lounge was very much full of life: for there's much to be done on the eve on battle, even if that may be enjoying wine and clearing the mind before pressing its limits yet again. Yet even amongst that, two men "enjoyed" each others company in a little bubble of their own. A jaded looking man with dark skin and a retreating hairline relaxed without reservation on a plush leather couch, while a younger man with side-swept blonde hair and an unsightly scar showing a few of his teeth stood crisply at the older man's shoulder.

The younger officer took the initiative. [b]"Colonel-"[/b]
[b]"I saw it."[/b] interrupted the older officer, his voice muffled by the lho-stub stuck between his lips. 
[b]"Shouldn't we-?"[/b] the younger officer began again, only to stop mid-sentence the same way he did before.
[b]"In a minute."[/b] the Colonel interjected again, before taking the time to enjoy another breath of his lho-stub. Enter Colonel Agrippa and Major Severinus. The tension between them was always some degree of palpable, but they had never once let it boil over into something more. Colonel Agrippa is a part of the regiments "old guard", life long veterans of the Imperial Guard, and bore all of the jaded malpractices and habits that came along with it. Severinus, on the other hand, is a young and ambitious up-and-comer with painfully obvious blue blood and about as much respect for the doing things by the book as a drop trooper could possibly have. They both looked down on each other for reasons of their own, need not mention Arcen-III. They both very much looked down on one another for reasons of their own, but on likewise grounds, they both consistently decided to let sleeping dogs lie.

Leaning forward, Agrippa sat his half-smoked lho-stub in a groove of the ash tray to cool. The motion was seemingly meaningless, but between the two, it was much more conclusive. Severinus neatened the positioning of his belt as Agrippa stood, where the two then started their trot towards Lord Hetman. Agrippa, true to his old habits, surveyed the room as he went; he wasn't sure if he was surprised or not to not find any familiar faces in red. 

[b][right]p o r t _ a u x i l i a r y _ h a n g a r[/right][/b][hr]Cheers and jeers erupted over the music from a gathering of guardsmen as a hand of cards was laid bare over the drop-canister-turned-table. Troopers grumbled as one of the soldiers picked up his winnings: a couple of lho-sticks, a pornographic playing card, and some ration packets. The soldiers outfits made them stick out like sore thumbs: grey jumpsuits with thick shoulders and thighs. Jump troops - soldiers dumb enough to tick off their 18 hours and come back for more. 

[b]"You with us, rookie?"[/b] cut in a thick and grizzly voice. If it didn't come in when it did, Trine might have zoned out enough to forget where she was.
[b]"H- Yes, Sergeant."[/b] Trine abruptly answered, returning to the land of the living proper. Sergeant Rusk, the source of that very grizzled voice, let out a sigh.
[b]"C'mon, keep it together, [i]drop trooper[/i]."[/b] Rusk scolded, his scarred complexion twisting into a scowl. [b]"What's our notice-to-move right now? Tell me you at least paid attention to that?"[/b]
[b]"Stat-three."[/b] Trine answered, her pupils narrowing as she focused. Rusk opened his mouth to ask something else, but she interjected: [b]"Fifteen minutes."[/b] The two stopped mid-stride while Rusk chewed on her answer before he let out an affirmative grunt.

[b]"Eighth squad!"[/b] called out Sergeant Rusk, bringing the assembly of gambling drop troopers upright and stiff. The lined up faces were all familiar to the Rusk, but they were all foreign to Trine. They were his subordinates, after all - and now, so was Trine. 
[b]"Oh, don't tell me this is our reinforcement!?"[/b] called a voice from the back: a small, narrow-framed man, with bulging veins running along his forehead.
[b]"Oi, stop bitching!"[/b] snapped back another: a tan-skinned woman with cropped hair and masculine features, with Corporal insignia on her sleeves. 
[b]"Eighth-!"[/b] snapped the Sergeant, commanding the attention of the squad. [b]"Eyes and ears for a moment; you can go back to jack in a minute. This is Trooper Trine Duijvestijn, she'll be bringing us back up to 10 strong. I know what you lot are like so [i]make sure[/i] she feels welcome, and [i]don't[/i] tell her anything she doesn't need to hear.. got it?"[/b] The haphazardous chorus of the word 'Sergeant' was hardly professional, much more to the like of a tired routine. Quietly, Trine gulped. For it to be this small of a deal, was she just underwhelming, or was reinforcement just too common? 

The Sergeants stern expression faded into something more sincere as he met eyes with the Corporal. She nodded a little to him as she pulled over a crate before slapping some dust off the top.
[b]"Hey, Trine,"[/b] called out the Corporal as she waved her over, [b]"c'mere. Let me introduce you to everyone."[/b]
[b]"Aww, Corporal! I wanted first on the rookie!"[/b] called a voice, hidden in the small crowd.
[b]"Hey, shut the fuck up, Kiril. We all know what you did the last time we got a female one-up."[/b] the Corporal retorted, drawing a chorus of jeers from the squad. Frustrated, Kiril furrowed his brow as he grumbled.