[centre][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/181008/b02a8e514a847d83c3d8892fffdb6f35.png[/img][/centre][hr] Under his constant maintenance over the two months that the gun had been with him, as he had expected, the gun was basically flawless. The cocking sound of the bolt was just pleasant to hear, whilst the trigger pull was as smooth as slicing a knife through butter. Without the ammunition magazine attached of course. He wouldn't want to get into trouble the first thing in the morning. The magazine, now that it was mentioned, it was a peculiar design to Michael. When first issued the weapon, he thought that he would be issued multiple magazines to go with it. As it turned out, commands only gave him one, which was on the gun itself. Reloads would be done through loose bullets or, more commonly, a stripper clip. Sure, ten rounds was nice, but the user could accidentally hit the eject button and the magazine would be on the ground. Though a trained soldier could actually avoid that mistake, but on the battlefield, who knows what could happen. Just as he finished with his gun, someone approached him with the same intention. It was a girl, her long blonde hair fluttered in the chilly wind. She was probably a little younger than him, judging by the look of his peers. Who knows, maybe she was just as old as he is, maybe even older. Sometimes being mistaken for a child soldier wouldn't be pleasant. But she was surely pretty with that pair of honey colored eyes. He wondered how she ended up here in the mud and blood of trench warfare. That was a stupid question though. Just like he did. She actively introduced herself with a smile as she handed him the gun for inspection. She looked like a nice girl too. He wouldn't mind, as he was going to do this for others anyway. If they were going to die, they wouldn't die on a preventable jammed weapon. Michael simply returned the smile with his own, visible yet small, along with a nod as he received the gun with his right hand. He proceeded to place the gun on his lap as he went over the previous process that he did with his own gun. Remove the magazine, check the safety, lock it, then go over the rest of the gun. It didn't seem to have any particular problem whatsoever. What may arise would mostly be from the reloading process. It would be on her and all of the soldiers then. Though to top it off, Michael's left hand slipped into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief and briefly wiped through the gun. Until then would he reassemble the magazine and handed back the gun back to Paloma. [color=bf00ff]"It will be safe now."[/color] He gave a small polite smile, as he held the gun with one hand. The other offering her a handshake. [color=bf00ff]"I'm Michael Daunte."[/color] Briefly glancing at her shoulder, as a partial view of the squad insignia hit his eyes. [color=bf00ff]"...Are you in the 15th Atlantic Rifle too?"[/color] [sub][@Ambra][/sub]