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Victoria hadn't minded the marching. Two decades of loyal service to the Federation had given her plenty of time to practice getting from point A to B without falling off a bridge or something. She had hadn't enjoyed listening to a pair of perfectly dense soldiers complain about walking and cards and mud and whatever dumb shit came to their minds (such as they were), but they had at least been shut up pretty quick. Besides, sooner or later they would end up under fire and Vicky would get the pleasure of watching them piss themselves. As long as she had her flask she could put up with them and obnoxious tramping of boots and her daughter cooing and whispering to that stupid cat. It was easy once you were used to it: just keep putting one foot in front of the other, try not breath in the clouds of dirt blown up by tanks and trucks, and for the love of God don't stop drinking. That was the most important part.

Getting up at Go Fuck Yourself o'clock was honestly completely fine. She hadn't regularly slept a full night since the first war so this was entirely normal. Wake up, get dressed, scream at the people who were still trying to sleep and then get into formation. Easy. She didn't even have to do anything except listen to her boss read off the list of bullshit regulations and let her know she heard them loud and clear. [color=#4F97A3]"Eat shit, cunt."[/color] Spoken like a professional soldier. The words were harsh but her tone was light, a rare smile stretched across her slashed up face. Maxi was probably the only officer in existence that wasn't brain-dead. In a strange way she reminded Vicky of herself in her younger years. 

This of course meant that she was probably as intelligent as a cow, but that was just how kids were. 

Really she found most parts of army life more or less agreeable, able to be endured for the sake of a paycheck and a pension. Today though she'd be dealing with the parts that weren't: the food and the officer corp. Vicky had grown up mixing sawdust in with old flour and helping her mom cook meat she had managed to buy when a draft horse needed to be put down. She prided herself on being able to turn ingredients of little-to-no quality into food that was actually pretty good! Or at the very least, edible. And that's was made the slop being served to her so insulting. All the fucking money the Feds were taking out of her paycheck as taxes and they couldn't afford a half-way decent cook?

It was the fault of those goddamn bigwigs roaming about, fat old fucks whose idea of intensity was a rousing day at the horse races with their wives and mistresses. It was their fault that the food was awful, tightfisted cunts who couldn't bear to approve a penny more of pay raise unless it went directly into their own pockets. The best and brightest of Vinland, Francia, Edinburgh and the other shitholes that made up this proud alliance. Just being near them pissed her off to no end, and she dealt that anger with the same way she dealt with all her problems. 

Another heavy gulp of cheap whiskey helped prepare her stomach for mouthfuls of rubbery eggs and nearly curdled milk as she sidled up to some of her fellow Rangers trying to harass Maxi. [color=#4F97A3]"Hate to break it to you, but whatever it is will be awful."[/color] Rosie and Paloma were already at their routine of being too cheery for the morning, but that was preferable to Yori's permanent case of bitch face. Could he make any expression besides a grimace?[color=#4F97A3]"Watch it there Yori, you put any more sunshine in that famous smile of yours and people might actually think you're happy to be alive!"[/color]

He always looked as if he couldn't decide whether he was more disgusted with himself or his comrades. 

[i][color=#4F97A3]Me too kid. Me fuckin' too.[/color][/i]

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Not for the first time Elizabeth was bemoaning her decision to sign up and fight her way through the Ranger selection process. Her hare-brain attempt at showing her mother that she was capable was turning out to be a dismal failure, Victoria having made little notice of her making it through sniper school or being placed in her unit. If anything she had seemed upset, like she couldn't believe Liz had managed it and wished she hadn't. It hadn't been good enough, just like everything else. Liz spent most of her time away from her now, unable to figure what she should or even could do to try and make up for her existence. It was the same today, the younger White slipping away from her mother's spot in the convoy. Best for both of them that they didn't talk too much.

She was good at that sort of thing, quietly fading into the background and disappearing before she could attract too much adverse attention. It was a skill she had picked up from dealing with a family of drunks and never quite fitting in with her peers, Liz carefully backtracking through the convoy until she spotted at least a couple of familiar faces. One of her mother's old comrades who she didn't really know, and her aunt! The sight of Mrs. Godfrey could usually cheer her up, but she had to be careful around her. She was motherly almost to the point of smothering, such a far cry from Vicky that it was almost a shock to the system. There was such a thing as being too affectionate after all. 

[color=lightsteelblue]"Hello Auntie."[/color]

Her voice was a near whisper, Liz keeping her eyes on the road ahead of her as she wrapped an arm around the shorter woman. [color=lightsteelblue]"You doing okay?"[/color] The question had been addressed to Diana but answered by someone else entirely, a gentle [color=darkslateblue]"Mraow?"[/color] echoing out from the confines of her jacket. There was visible bulge moving from within the garment, climbing up from her stomach and along her ribs it popped out at her collar, Soot making his presence known with another curious meow. [color=lightsteelblue]"Soot says hi as well."[/color] She giggled, a musical noise quickly cut short as if out of habit.