[center][h2]THE IRON HEARTED[/h2][/center]
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[center][@Eisenhorn] [@CleanBreeze] [@BctheEntity][/center]
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A man saluted to her. She saluted back, hers far more snappy and neat than his. Still, she didn't hold it against the man. Despite a few sips to warm her belly, she had no doubt she was stone cold sober in comparison to most of the people here. When he mentioned restless legs, she would consider it for a second, cocking her head as she did so. "Perhaps they are. Perhaps they are." She looked the man up and down. Large. Bulky. Tribal markings. A feral worlder, but one with good bearing and grace... Which made sense, since he had the stripes of a sergeant. One of the better of his lot, or did he happen to come from a dignified tribe? Who could tell. 

"At ease there sergeant," she would say. "I'm not here to shoot anyone, nor am I here to-" She would pause, looking at the gas-masked figure that was stood waiting. She would indicate for him to talk, and then when he said his name, she could do nothing more than blink. "Pardon, soldier, you are Grenadier 415633-983223-17-Zhatka?" She would wait for confirmation, and then sharply nod. "Excellent, excellent, I was actually intending on looking for you regardless." What were the odds of this one soldier among all the hundreds of others noticing her? Who knew. "As for the celebrations, I am afraid that those that are less dedicated to their drills than you require some down time, and I would find myself in a rather bad light should I attempt to put an end to them. That being said, you are to be folded into a combined regiment under my command, and I have selected you to be part of my command squad. Report to the drill grounds at 1330 sharp tomorrow, you are dismissed until then."

Just as she was about to return to the sergeant, she would take a step backwards as she felt someone knock into her, whirling around to see a barrel of a man carrying a scrumball under his arms. Under normal circumstances, she would have given the man a tongue-lashing he wouldn't soon forget, but apparently she was growing soft in her middle age. "Do that again soldier and I'll have you doing knee-ups with your rifle over your head for an hour. Mind your surroundings in the future." Then, she would turn back around and finally be able to face the sergeant once more.

"So sergeant." She offered her gloved hand out to the man. "Captain Arlena Di Fieroccu. As you just heard, I am forming C Company of the new 87th Combined Regiment here on Vernum. Who might you be, and if you wouldn't mind, might I see the remnants of your squad?" She was curious to see just howt typical this man was when compared to his fellows.