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[color=silver][sub]Dec. 30 - Command Trench Interior[/sub][/color][/CENTER]
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	[color=aquamarine][b]"Brock shite isn't meant for anyone..."[/b][/color] 

	Connor revoltingly turned a disgusted look into his [url=https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/691801190748520489/826802935450566656/unknown.png]coffee mug[/url], as the faint reflection of the lamplight shined a rippling reflection of the blue-haired lieutenant in spade. The new brew from this morning specifically [i]wasn't[/i] coffee. Instead, this was some "novel" medley, concocted by the Department of Logistics to, in their words as Connor recalled from last week's memo, "Make up for our current shortages by preparing alternatives". And, like most of the food prepared by the Department, the brew could be put in a pig's trough and the poor animal would fall dead by nightfall. Connor shot his disgusted look back, recalling the ingredients in the paper-sealed package: [i]"Blended acorn grain and corn meal"[/i] What bloody idiot would think that pouring hot water over bloody acorns and corn mash would make [i]coffee?[/i]

	A dumb fuck, for certain. A dumb fuck for thinking of the bloody idea, and an even dumber fuck to keep drinking it after the fact. Connor dismayfully took another sip of the swill. Every time the scalding blend touched his tongue, Connor felt as if he was licking a cast iron oak tree on a hot summer day, with flaking rust scratching his throat the whole way down to his stomach. 

	[color=0AB100][b]"Is Private Farris on the fucking front line?!"[/b][/color] The Captain demanded. He had taken a break from organizing - or more accurately, correcting - the Generals' plans for the January Offensive. Even considering the usual gruff tone of Captain Middleton, Connor could tell that this was going to be a long week for the CO's.

	[color=aquamarine][b]"How the 'ell am I s'possed to know?"[/b][/color] Connor shot back, looking up from his table back at him. [color=aquamarine][b]"You sent the bloody sergeant after 'er."[/b][/color]

	His response earned the two a matching set of mutual glares. Their set of reciprocal death-stares slowly drifted into their usual repetition, Middleton returning his eyes to the papers and maps while Connor stared back into his mug. 

	[color=0AB100][b]"You better have the troop assignments done."[/b][/color]

	[color=aquamarine][b]"They're fecking done."[/b][/color] Connor waved his office log back at him. His eyes didn't bother moving up from his cup.

	A blast of cold air swelled from the outside as the trench door creaked open, the howl of the winter's day invading the room like water rushing through rapids. The lieutenant and the captain turned their heads toward the crevice, in sync like the 

	[color=aquamarine][b]"Right on time."[/b][/color] Connor commented. He rose from his cross-legged position, grasping the plans on the table on his way up. [color=aquamarine][b]"You're Private Grumann or wh'ever, yeah? I got a new assignment for your lot-"[/b][/color]

	[color=0AB100][b]"Get the fucking assignment brief done, Connor."[/b][/color]

	[color=aquamarine][b]"I'm bloody gettin' ta' it!"[/b][/color] he returned. The two could hardly speak five words without getting into a standoff. 

	[color=aquamarine][b]"...like I was sayin'..."[/b][/color] he pivoted his gaze back unto the private. [color=aquamarine][b]"You'll be with the new Corporal fer this one. Together on'nit y'll be with, eh..."[/b][/color]

	The lieutenant paused, tapping his notes. 

	[color=aquamarine][b]"So-coal-o'-ski, Mehetabel, Lévesque, Blau, Fürst, Roe, Daunte, Schäfer, Morvan, and...eh, White?"[/b][/color] 

	Connor took a moment to pause as he mentioned the name.

	[color=aquamarine][b]"'Ey, ain't she the one who gave birth to twin girls durin' the trench raid?"[/b][/color] He inquired. Just after, he shook his head and waved in dismissal. [color=aquamarine][b]"Eh, nah. Just remembered that was someone else. Anyway, y' new assignment's fer-"[/b][/color]

	Pausing, Connor scraped over his planner, the violent flipping between pages and tabs almost scratching the heavy canvas of the plans as it audibly echoed even through the usual jitter-jatter of the command room. Heavy huffs fumed out with every audacious page turn, steadily etching into a sonorous rhythm. Frustrated, he slammed the planner shut out of the blue, picking up his [url=https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/691801190748520489/826802935450566656/unknown.png]mug[/url] in his newly-freed hand and nudged the private along with his right elbow. The assignment's order of operation was listed out, anyhow; The details were what briefing was for.

	[color=aquamarine][b]"Eh, c'mon. Let's go for a lil' saunter. I'm gettin' tired o' bein' locked up in here."[/b][/color]

	[color=aquamarine][b]"[i]Blimey,[/i] he's a fecking sour-tittied old codger, in'nt he?"[/b][/color] Connor vented, slamming the trench door behind him as he exhaled into the frigid air. Stretching his arms upward, he expired a wary sigh, the audible cracks of his sore bones clear even through the mid-afternoon's battlefield ambience. 

	Jolting his arm down into his pocket, jamming it like a knife into a watermelon, Connor fumed and fumbled about, his hand violently scrounging about his coat crevice like a panicking squirrel. Swiftly, he yanked his hand back, his argent pocket watch flipping open with the switch of his thumb. He squinted down at the device, clearly dismayed by what he saw. 

	[color=aquamarine][b]"Where the feck is Corporal [i]So-coal-o'-ski[/i]?!"[/b][/color] he seethed through the winter's smoke. Connor shook his head, frustratingly shutting the watch with a violent slam. His head chafly looked side to side, seeing if he could spot her anywhere nearby, but after a few passes and scans, the Darcsen boiled in exhausted anger. 

	[color=aquamarine][b]"You seen 'er anywhere, Private? Blond-'eaded lass with the Legion cap and a funny voice?"[/b][/color] he spat out at Richard. Barely giving him any time to respond, he shook his head, putting an arm upon his shoulder and giving a forceful tug along as he started his slog through the trench snow.

	[color=aquamarine][b]"Ah, fuckit! We're going looking for 'er, c'mon!"[/b][/color]
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[sup][@Not Fungus][/sup]