Devon groaned as he injected another set of chemicals into his arm. Immediately he felt better. Finally, it took long enough. He had to miss his first mission, something embarrassing enough in it's own right. Still, he couldn't be fully blamed for his armor malfunctioning, that wasn't something that could be accounted for by anyone, much less the man who designed it. Still, he'd found the combination to counteract the overload of drugs in his system, though the effects would still rage for days to come. He really needed to talk to Romanov about helping him design the more technical parts of the armor. It would be terrible to overdose on drugs in the middle of a firefight, atleast this time it was in the base, when he did a test run on his armor. Being forced to move about when you could feel your very body trying to rebel against itself was a terrible thing, and it was far worse to search through his vast collection of chemicals to find the right combination to force it away.

Now through, he could relax, atleast long enough to be ready for his next mission. Maybe go bug Bear... Still, his team was back, so he probably needed to talk to them, figure out what all happened, if his services would be needed. He stood up, groaning at his sore muscles. Normally his stimulants left him feeling weak after a day or so, as his body was pumped into overdrive. Now, though, his chemical high was crashing down on him, and his muscles took the beating. He couldn't imagine what he'd be feeling if his implant malfunctioned. Hrmm... That was a thought. make an implant to do what his armor did? It would make him a surprising force, even outside of his armor, though there would be the issue of refilling it... And if it malfunctioned, something clearly possible, than the consequences would almost certainly be terrible.

Walking through the barracks was the massive man that was Golem. He looked at him as he passed by, and wondered just how many drugs that man must've taken as a kid. His stomach suddenly growled, and he decided to follow him to the cafeteria too. His body had burned through so many calories, for no use, when the stimulants made it go into overdrive, and it was obvious now, feeling absolutely famished. He wondered how the rest of his squad would treat him, given how his own designs for the armor had taken him out of commission. His presence in the mission might have been critical, he might have been needed, but instead, his need to be better than a normal man had forced him to be less. Hopefully, Romanov could help him work out the kinks in his designs. It'd also help him possible modify the rest of his squads armor, to do something similar. He'd never met anyone who had made something like this, the closest he'd encountered were the auto-injecting stimpacks that kept a man fighting in the heat of battle, without being forced to inject it himself. Of course, he also had systems of that sort hooked up to his armor as well, which is why he hadn't died, mainly. The chemicals in the stimpacks served as enough of a force to stop the stimulants from killing him, and also allowed him to find a cure for his affliction.

After watching the man speak to the deathclaw, he followed behind the pair to the cabin that served as their cafeteria, entering in and taking a deep sniff of the delicious food. Now, this was more like it. They were, after all, the best of the best. He quickly went to the buffet, making a large serving of steak and potatoes. He poured a large glass of rum on the rocks, though about a forth of the drink was lemon juice, and even some salt was mixed into the drink. He sat down at the table, cutting into the meat and beginning to dig into it ravenously. He didn't talk to the other members of his squad, expecting them to start mocking him for his own mistakes. And, honestly, it was probably atleast a little deserved. Atleast the higher ups hadn't felt a need to execute him for the screw up with his armor. It was something he had fully expected to happen, given the way he had been trained for the past six months. They had put resources into training the squad into a force of absolute might, and he had just been taken out of commission because of his own screw up. He did know one thing, that wouldn't be repeated in the future. He would work without his stimulants if such things would hold back his potential. He was quite interested in both Golem and Dimitri for that. One was clearly augmented, much like he was, though Devons was much less obvious, and Dimitri for his sheer intelligence. He mulled over this thoughts as he took a deep drink of his sour rum, releasing a satisfied "Ah" at the taste. He would settle into the job well, if this is what he would be treated to.