[hr] [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/H0vRWf5.png[/img] [img]https://i.imgur.com/JXu9zJp.png[/img] [img]https://i.imgur.com/H0vRWf5.png[/img][/center] [hr] [color=lightgray]Almost the moment the professor declared the lecture had ended, a rather tall, dark-haired young man in the back row had already closed out of his desk terminal, risen to his feet, slung a somewhat ragged and worn backpack over one shoulder, and headed for the door. At a glance, one might have assumed based on his frown and his haste to get out of the classroom that there was somewhere else he needed to be - after all, he did seem to be in quite the hurry, and gave off a certain impression that he didn't want to be meddled with. But of course, that wasn't entirely the case, as he, like those who followed after him, simply made his way to the lunch hall as expected. Bel always had a policy of trying to arrive at lunch as early as possible. Front of the line meant first to get in. First to get in meant first to get served. First to get served meant he could find his own spot to eat off in some small corner of the dining hall without ending up crowded out by his fellow engineering cadets, or worse, those damned stuck-up piloting candidates. Of the two, the former were infinitely more welcoming, but that in and of itself made them almost as bad as the alternative. After all, the only reason they'd even bother talking to him was because they saw in him the potential for some sort of camaraderie which Bel had no intention of participating in. Just because he'd ended up in their program, they assumed he was some kind of failure who'd join them in resenting and envying everyone else who'd actually managed to cut it. But what was there to envy? He wasn't a failure. He'd outperformed all those stuck-up asshats who, starting this year, would be wearing the coveted blue and looking down their noses at him like he was some sort of insect, as if all those times he'd shot them down in simulation had never even happened. Even without a partner, he still could easily have qualified for the normal piloting program, and probably could have done quite well for himself if he'd just been allowed to try. But that man... That damned man... He'd pushed Bel aside just because he wasn't fit to be his protege, and had tried to cover up his own embarrassment at trying to force his own son into that role and failing by shoving Bel as far out of the limelight as possible. Of course, even if he had been able to make it into the green program, Bel would have surely refused had the choice been given to him. That would be settling for second best, and second best wasn't his style. The result would have doubtless been the same, so that wasn't why he was angry. He just resented not being given the choice. After skimming through the serving line and grabbing a few different flavors of the soupy, synthetic ooze that passed for food - all of which were equally bad, by the way, but his prior year's experience had already taught him that blending a few of the least offensive flavors could make the resulting culinary abomination at least marginally more palatable - Bel had just found a nice spot near the back of the cafeteria and sat down to eat when a shadow was suddenly cast over him from behind. He cocked his head back just enough to make out a white and red uniform like his own. It was strange, though... He didn't remember anyone quite so tall being in the program. Well, whatever.[/color] [color=#065daf]"Yeah? Whaddya want?"[/color] [color=lightgray]He half-mumbled, half-growled as he kicked back in his chair, turning to give a barely concerned half-glance back at the unseen individual now looming over him. The person in question cleared his throat very pointedly, and it was around this point that Bel realized his mistaken assumption. Throwing down his food, he shot bolt upright and turned around, standing immediately at attention before the bowl containing what passed for his lunch could even finish rattling and wobbling on the unsteady table he'd jostled in his wake.[/color] [color=#065daf]"Captain Zaren, sir!"[/color] [color=lightgray]He exclaimed as he met the gaze of his team's supervisor. The tall, tan-skinned man gave a slight chuckle, his lips forming into a lopsided grin as he removed one hand from his pocket and waved it dismissively.[/color] [color=white]"At ease, kid."[/color] [color=#065daf]"My bad. ...Thought you were someone else,"[/color] [color=lightgray]Bel somewhat awkwardly apologized despite himself, his posture relaxing back to his usual slouch as he dragged the chair out to one side, then dropped once more into his seat. It was remarkable how quickly his conditioned discipline gave way to complete disregard for order once his surprise had passed, but thankfully, his teacher didn't exactly make a point of standing on ceremony. What would otherwise have probably been seen as disrespect passed between them as normal - so long as they were outside of class. Either way, he decided it would be best to get to the point before the grinning captain could tease him any further.[/color] [color=#065daf]"So what's the deal? I thought we didn't have any meetings or exercises or whatever set until the project tomorrow?"[/color] [color=white]"And you'd be right,"[/color] [color=lightgray]The captain replied with a shrug, tossing himself down in the seat across from his student.[/color] [color=white]"So, since you're so free these days, I thought you could give this old man a hand with some of his work."[/color] [color=#065daf]"'Old man?' Really?"[/color] [color=lightgray]Bel replied scathingly, raising an eyebrow.[/color] [color=#065daf]"You're... what, like 35? It's a little early to be begging for sympathy, even with that gray hair of yours, 'gramps.'"[/color] [color=white]"39, actually. And be that as it may, you're a little late to be learning respect for your elders, kid."[/color] [color=#065daf]"I told you to stop calling me that."[/color] [color=white]"Whatever you say, son."[/color] [color=#065daf]"Oh, shut up!"[/color] [color=lightgray]Bel growled irritably, shooting a glare across the table. The captain merely chuckled, and Bel grumpily sighed, shaking his head.[/color] [color=#065daf]"What do you even want my help with, anyway?"[/color] [color=white]"Nothing much. Just basic setup for a training exercise for some of the piloting newbies. The flight instructor asked me to help out since he's shorthanded at the moment. Just need to move a few seats, maybe calibrate some sim equipment..."[/color] [color=lightgray]Zaren trailed off, giving a knowing smile. Bel only realized a few moments later that he'd started grinning the moment he'd heard the words 'calibrate' and 'sim equipment,' and quickly wiped the smirk off his face. Clearing his throat, he took a moment before answering, averting his gaze so as not to be seen through.[/color] [color=#065daf]"Well, I guess I can help you out,"[/color] [color=lightgray]He responded at last, trying his best to sound inconvenienced by the whole affair. Zaren stood up with his usual lopsided grin and reached out, unexpectedly tousling the grumpy young man's already messy hair.[/color] [color=#065daf]"Hey!"[/color] [color=lightgray]Bel growled, trying to shake off the unwanted gesture.[/color] [color=white]"Knew I could count on you, kid. Head down to storage B on deck 2 when you're done eating. I'll be waiting!"[/color] [color=lightgray]With that, just as suddenly as he had appeared, the captain strolled off, leaving Bel flushed and angrily glaring after as he brushed the hair out of his face.[/color] [color=#065daf]"I told you to stop calling me that."[/color]