[center][h1][color=f7941d][b]ISAAC[/b][/color] & [i][b][color=ed1c24]Britta[/color][/b][/i][/h1][/center] Aw, Jean, don't... Don't get in the way of dinner at a camp of several people who've been smelling frankly [i]incredible[/i] smells the past how-ever-long-it-took-to-cook. Don't do [i]that[/i]. Even if it's important, it could surely wait. Oh fine... So, Jean had an announcement about what was going on soon. It was entirely about their latest orders, their next move as a squad. Well, actually it was to be their situation involving a [i]scouting mission[/i], with just three people along with Jean. Apparently, Sergeant Baker wasn't sure of the area ahead and that meant they were needed for a bit of reconnaissance. This was for a great push forward to take over Amone, which presumably the rest of the squad should be ready for, since the scouting mission was tomorrow morning and they wanted to somehow end the seige - all of it - in two days. Good fucking luck, probably not likely, unless they were killing everyone in Amone to do it or something. Isaac definitely felt that the higher-ups didn't know what the hell they were doing or thinking, in regards to this. Jean and them may be walking into a damn hornet's nest if his own wary instincts were any good. Isaac was starting to value his instincts far better than what the likes of Middleton or Baker might say, especially Middleton. Britta was also of the opinion that Jean should have waited on this, though her reasoning was entirely culinary in nature. She'd reduced the fire to mere waning embers, which would try to keep the meal heated while they latest, but they would die out quickly, and then the meal would begin to cool. Good food is best eaten hot, especially when there's been terrible weather involved, so it's rude to keep it waiting. Frankly, Jean's reaction to the garlic bread was priceless. The food must've been absolutely exquisite, because we have Jean reacting this way, everyone anxious for the meal, and Luke was...was [i]apologizing[/i] for his arsehole behavior. Let's be clear here, on this. Luke Godfrey was definitely an arsehole. He had a bitter attitude and he hated Darcsens. So, for him to be trying to make up to Jean and any other Darcsen by proxy is nothing shy of a Christmas miracle. Too bad it's not December, 'cause then we could invest in that and pray for the war to be called on cold weather. No such luck there, we thank god for small mercies. This even made [i]Isaac[/i] smile. [i][color=f7941d]Look at that. Our little pain in the ass is growing up. Well, he's trying.[/color][/i] Jean was, at the time, making sure with Britta that any excess of the meal be spread out beyond Squad 1, which she nodded at, saying [b][color=ed1c24]"Of course! I wouldn't dream of letting [i]this[/i] go to waste."[/color][/b]. However, his response to Luke was a decided 'Try harder, next time.', because while Luke was struggling to get around his stupid hang-ups, he couldn't quite remove the bile from his mouth long enough to be polite about it and act like Jean was a person like everyone else. He called him Boss, but Jean was standing up for the intolerance against his people. Boss wasn't good enough if you weren't calling your boss a human being. People in the Atlantic Federation called the Imperials 'Imps', but they were still human, regardless of the name-calling. Isaac appeared next to Britta, muttering. [color=f7941d]"Ya think he'll ever clear his head and act right?"[/color] [b][color=ed1c24]"I don't know. It's like he's salvaging a pride that isn't there. What's he trying to prove?"[/color][/b] [color=f7941d]"I have no idea..."[/color] Luke wandered off and things returned somewhat back to normal as Isaac took an assessment for Britta about how many people were looking to benefit from the stew and garlic, which he'd finished eating already and Britta was about to get her own fill. However... >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> [center][h1][b][color=a0410d]Rikes[/color][/b][/h1][/center] I can smell it. I can [i]taste[/i] it in the air. It's nearby. I want it. I NEED IT. [b]"Whoa! What the...?" "Hey, is that ours?!" "Gotta be. It's our vest." "Hey, watch it!"[/b] Feddie humans. No worries. Home. Safe. Or safe enough. Food nearby, and closing. Wafting, taunting, teasing... So very close now. He couldn't keep his paws from moving him forward at all speed, bumping into things, into people. Feet hurting all day, cuts and bangs and wounds here and there - ignoring all to get some REAL FOOD! There! Right there! At last! The pot was still warm, but not too hot. Meat and broth... Oh, dig in! Dig in! [b][color=ed1c24]"Hey, stop! HEY!"[/color][/b] [i][b]CLANG![/b][/i] OW! Loud banging on the pot! How dare you! Feddie soldier saying no? WRONG. Mine now! [i]MINE![/i] He'd run from fights, run from deadly smoke, run from Imps and bombs and bullets, but not this. NOT NOW, while he was hungry and hurting! It was his now! YOU CAN'T HAVE IT! NO! >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Britta had turned and had been about to announce to anybody nearby that the rest of the meal was up for grabs when...when there was this sound of something running in and stepping up onto the pot. She turned around and saw this shaggy brown thing in a vest with Federation markings tipping its head down into the pot to eat its contents. She rapped the side with the ladle and what reared up was the face of a vicious wolf. Not a dog. Wolf. With rather big TEETH. Immediately, Britta drew her serrated blade and held both it and the ladle defensively. This couldn't be just a wild animal. It was [i]dressed[/i], marking it as an army canine, except it was a LUPINE, clearly. Ears back, growling and not barking, teeth bared back to gums to show the entire set in its mouth. It was defending the pot like a kill it had made. [b][color=ed1c24]"Isaac? ISAAC!"[/color][/b] [color=f7941d]"What? Oh..."[/color] She couldn't take her eyes off of it, but Isaac... You could see that he was suddenly overcome as he laid eyes on their intruder. [center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u_ddTqnOVhU[/youtube][/center] [i][color=f7941d]It can't be... That bastard... He sent 'im HERE...[/color][/i] Memories of his childhood, of raising what would have been wild animals, if not for his influence... He couldn't possibly mistake that muzzle, that growl, that pelt... He came beside Britta and gently forced down the blade. When she looked at him, she was about to question this, but his face said everything. He was handling this. He approached Rikes, knowing that if he was very hungry, he wouldn't give up a potential meal. Wolves don't need much for day-to-day operation. They can work on a few hours a day of sleep, even very little food for a time without being too hungry, but that assumes a less-than-super-active period. He looked tired, spent... [color=f7941d]"Rikes! Down... [i]Down[/i]..."[/color] It wasn't the words, so much as the gesture and the tone. A firm commanding tone, and...a smell, familiar. Anger turned to uncertainty, and an urging from him to calm down in that recognized tone of voice, that accepted tone of masters... Rikes' ears perked in understanding, his nose told him who he was talking to, even though his eyes needed a minute to be sure. He saw so many faces that it was necessary to check and check again. The wolf stopped mounting the pot and backed down, letting out a small whimper because the master seemed a little angry with him. [color=f7941d]"Gimme the ladle."[/color] Britta, amazed at how easy it was for Isaac to get this hungry beast to back down, did so without question. Isaac scooped some of the stew into a bowl and led the wolf aside, saying [color=f7941d]"It's alright! He's with me."[/color] to any onlooker. He noticed that Rikes was limping a little, that his army dog vest was a bit tattered and torn. He placed the food down and the wolf immediately went at it. Isaac reached down to inspect the vest, but there was a growl from the feasting animal, and he decided to leave it, for now. [color=f7941d]"God sakes... What'd they do to ya?"[/color]