[centre][hr][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/181005/fc898f921f53203bc3bc9106717c7c88.png[/img] [sub][color=Silver][i]The Siege of Amone, September 26th - [b]The Food and the briefing[/b][/i][/color][/sub] [hr][/centre] [color=Silver] Jean heard the call catch nearly every soldier in the courtyard's attention. A thousand eyes swivelled in their sockets towards a bright and cheery chirp, one that Britta gave to the world. Because of her distinctive voice, he knew that this wasn't just for the masses of hungry or eager soldiers preparing to descend upon Britta like a pack of wolves themselves. Jean quickly ran forward, waving his arms as he abandoned Staff Sergeant Baker and yelled out the identity of the squad, screaming that it wasn't for the others and not to get their hopes up yet. He did feel rather bad for those still waiting for their rations, but at the same time most of them hadn't set foot into Amone until two days prior. This was a welcoming gift for the surviving members of the initial first wave. Jean didn't think they deserved such luxuries at all, if they could even be called that, yet he didn't want to turn down the offer. After all, even after the gas attack they'd trudged around for approximately two weeks around Amone, avoiding armoured cars, patrols of Imperial riflemen and other optional skirmishes unless they were forced into one. Never before had their lives been clinging onto a small thread like that, to which that thread was the chance and luck they held so dearly. It wasn't skill keeping them alive, not by a long shot. No one with great skill was guaranteed a long-life in the Europan Frontier. Jean eventually found his way to Britta, to where a minute table just big enough for her portions had been laid out, prepared for consumption by Squad 1. Well, was it really Squad 1? What defined Squad 1 was their collective companionship, or at least ability to try and work together. Whilst it stood true with more than others, more so for those who'd been there since the start, they were still somewhat of a community. They liked, disliked, hated and loved one another in differing ways. Clasped hands, tightened grips, shared breaths and thoughts, all of these combined together to create Squad 1. Yet, a vital piece was missing. A fair maiden, one who seemed to be swept off of her feet for another fellow comrade of Jean's, was absent from the beautiful conglomerate. A concession was not complete without all of its invites, yet she was locked behind the bars of imprisonment, chained beneath the steel of Captain Middleton. Every minute she spent away from Squad 1 was another minute she fell under the influence of his brutally battered sense of righteousness, one that had lost its original purpose of paternal love and protection. Now, Squad 1 was not complete. The meal itself could not be lived up to its full potential with such a loved member absent. Such a divide was not necessary yet it still continued, such as the way the world worked. Jean was not much of a philosopher, not by any means, nor a grand thinker, but he still felt disheartened having just one member away. Even those he perhaps didn't like were still invited to join and that was okay with him. They all needed that luxury to talk to one another, in many different ways. Whether positive or negative, at least they'd share a moment together, alone and secluded from the other soldiers who bustled around in orderly fashion. All of them were together in their special methods. Lovers had formed: Britta and Isaac for one, whilst others were still blooming or drifting apart. That was the beauty hidden in Squad 1. And they were missing a piece that Jean considered crucial. As they all gathered around the table, getting ready to grab their food, Jean took a step forward and suddenly blocked their paths, standing rather firmly yet still looking vulnerable enough to break through. He knew they were likely hungry, or ready to carve into whatever delicious scents that awaited behind their Corporal, but Jean wanted to at least gather his thoughts and ensure the serious notion was out of the way. Things had to be said before the feasts could continue, as all dinners usually went by. And so, he cleared his throat, apologetically trying to regain his composure and serious tone of an NCO.[/color] [color=Aqua][b]"Uhh...before we dive in, I do want to say a few words. I mean, there's a few things we [i]need[/i] to talk about before we can get onto relaxing. Now I know everyone doesn't like business, but firstly I want to get straight into it: tomorrow at early sunrise, I will need to gather three of you to come with me...uhm...out [i]there[/i]. Don't want to ruin the mood and all before we even start, but Baker has orders to send me, Corporal Carter and a few others out for a scouting mission. Apparently the higher-ups plan for a final offensive to take place in about two days, ending the Siege or some bizarre shit like that."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Things fell silent for a short while, emphasising that Jean wasn't really bringing this up at the best of times. Yet he needed to confirm it with the others. The sooner he brought this new mission into the light the better. There was still time to decide who'd go with him, and at least mentally preparing them for such a choice would lessen the destructive capabilities of its reveal. Either way, the gawping eyes staring him down brought another sense of dread and anxiety deep within his throat, causing him to adjust his collar accordingly.[/color] [color=Aqua][b]"Just a scouting mission, that's it. Up and down some of the roads and then back, checking there's no major defences in front of our path. After that we come home, we have the day's rest and then we head out tomorrow to get the hell out of this city. That's something I think we could probably drink to. As for eating, I want to thank you all for your cooperation so far, and I hope we as a team will continue to try and build together for the time we have left. Cliche, perhaps, but there's nothing more to say from me. So please, enjoy this great feast-of-what-we-could-scavenge from our gourmet chef, Britta."[/b][/color] [color=Silver] Jean moved out of the way, allowing for the hordes and masses of his squad to enter and devour whatever they could. Picking whatever was a crucial step into enjoying the best meal, trying to settle for the best part. Jean wasn't going to adhere to temptation, no. He was a Corporal and they had expectations of him. He was to remain formal and polite, allowing those to gain their rations before him and- Wait... Is that..? [b]GARLIC BREAD?![/b] With a shifting gaze, Jean rushed for the table himself and started to snatch up four loaves of garlic bread, suddenly indulging in the sweetened scent that gently whiffed off of it. Like a strip of powder intended on getting him intoxicated, Jean ran his nose across the baguette-formation of garlic bread and breathed in that succulent indulgence. How...imprudent, one might've said if they were posh. But, but it was just so good. It couldn't be helped. For almost a year, Jean had not tasted the sweetness of garlic bread. It was a commodity back home in the early days of the war but the bread began to be used for the frontline instead, just leaving the garlic butter behind to mix with other foodstuffs. Now, this was a treat. This was a luxury for a Francian. The richness of its spread, the brilliance of its formation. Britta was certainly either an experienced cook or just lucky in creating such perfection. Jean's eyes rolled to the sky as he smiled immensely, speaking such native wonders to himself aloud. Only Inès probably could've understood it at first, but that made it ever the more strange.[/color] [color=Aqua][b]"Pardonnez-moi, ma chérie, car je devrai à nouveau dévorer ce pain divin, comme un animal!"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]As if they were the rites to some holy ceremony, Jean concluded his exasperation with the first bite, secretly groaning in nostalgic enrichment from its flavouring. If it wasn't apparent, such food was Jean's favourite, by a long shot. He looked to Inès and rose the bread upwards, holding it like a sword to present to the glorious world surrounding him.[/color] [color=Aqua][b]"Truth be told, I have missed this flavour before. We've been blessed, fellow Francian!"[/b][/color] [color=Silver] It was surreal, perhaps. Jean, on his own accord, was making himself laugh and cheer, seemingly forgetting about the upcoming scouting mission that laid ahead. He scurried in-between a few of his comrades, randomly giving Britta a large and welcoming hug for about a second as he gave his gratitude for its flavour. He handed a piece to Diana and Reyna, circled around once more to Michael and giggled like a small boy who'd done something intolerant in the classroom behind the teacher's back. The side of him that still fed on the nostalgic thoughts came back to him and he froze, staring with a smile out into the streets, away from the group. It may have looked odd to them, but he reached out and stared, smiling with unknown intent. Yet to him, he saw it in his mind. He saw his kitchen again. He saw the faces of those who used to feast and eat richly around tables. Garlic bread, roast chicken from the market and a shitload of boiled carrots. If only there were a time and a place like that again, where Jean actually had a family...[/color] [centre][sub][@FalloutJack][@Landaus Five-One][@Bushman501][@Conscripts][@Yam I Am][@CFProxy][@Jacky][@Smike][/sub][/centre]