[center][h1][color=f7941d][b]ISAAC BLACK[/b][/color][/h1][/center]

It was of no surprise to Isaac, as the great slab of dog settled down nearby, that he was described as difficult to handle by previous owners.  Isaac was not a dog breeder.  He was a dog/wolf tamer, but that was on the bottom rung of the animal breeding ladder.  He had an understanding of other peoples' desire to bring in or weed out certain traits of an animal.  It was Isaac's job to provide the basic foundations by bringing fresh blood into the mix that would eventually become everything from sheepdogs and Collies to the massive mound that was this Mastiff.  Even still, this hunk of dog muscle was certainly a breed to be contended with, and so people without a respect or understanding of how a bulky animal works don't know how to deal with them.  Isaac chuckled at the man's comment about the two canines.  Well...still canine and [i]lupine[/i], to be fair.

[color=f7941d]"Regal?  Maybe, but your boy there is a [i]mountain[/i], and that's a pride in of itself."[/color]

And given that Rikes felt no personal threat from him, it must be said that Schafer had that mountain under control.  Any dog in the world can be a trusted companion.  It was only those who would turn them into weapons who would give any sort of impression of the breed as a violent one.  Of course, neither Rikes nor Valkur were trained specifically as weapons, but as relief dogs, yet they were still given training to defend themselves in addition to their natural instincts.  Actually, it was more than that, but rather to temper and focus their instincts to a finer edge with a stronger decision-making process, so that they would act in a [i]specific[/i] way in certain situations automatically.  This was, of course, how you got a dog to do most anything on command, but military training is a bit more complicated than 'Fetch'.  In any case, the Sergeant settled down with the rest of them and asked about the anty.

[color=f7941d]"Mostly cigarettes and tobacco, or anything that can be easily carried and handed off.  Nothing that anybody couldn't stand to be without or couldn't recover on their own.  Count is five, right now on cigarettes.  Full cigars and tobacco pouches are worth at least that much.  Any other items are negotiable.  Depends on what you bring to the table.  Wouldn't ask anyone to bring anything big out here, nor do I think anyone has much around that could be consider 'high stakes', anyway."[/color]

He'd avoided the idea of a 'high stakes' Isaac Store poker game specifically because of the problems that would occur, as a result.  A person who puts in something that they couldn't stand to lose or just something that was of heavy need or value around here would cross that boundary of harmless supply and trading to outright commerce of goods under the table that would be a bit more beyond the pale.  He and Britta had agreed from the start: They were not a business.  If anything, they would call it decent training for their partnership in business after the war, but this was not for profit.  This was to support everybody in the trenches to ease their lives so that they were in some better state TO be alive while in this war.  Once you started doing things that started tallying large debts and losses among people, where they were trying to spread whatever good there was to be HAD among people, that was going to be trouble and the higher-ups wouldn't like it.  The reason, as mentioned previously, that this all wasn't cracked down upon was that it didn't cause problems.  Schafer was dealt in, and while they probably wouldn't be here too long, they would break up the slog that was their duty and their dubious existence here in these trenches.

[center][h1][i][b][color=ed1c24]Britta Hagen[/color][/b][/i][/h1][/center]

There was a momentary pause and confusion before the curious Private Blanc responded.  She had caught him off-guard with something, perhaps in that he was so new to the company that procedure hadn't been explained to the man.  It wasn't too surprising.  There were a number of people who weren't exactly given adequate instruction on the basics of how anything operated out there and were forced to find their own way.  Britta had, for her part, made it a point to learn said systems in her patrols and other movements about camps or trenches in order to get the right feel for things and pass that information on to those who needed it.  She found herself nodding as the man began to explain his lack of footlocker, her smile sort of deepening at the mention of her and Isaac.

[color=ed1c24][b]"We do what we can.  They don't always give the fullness of consideration to the lower ranks here.  You mentioned that this was a special circumstance?"[/b][/color]

There were, and...wow.  One look at the item in question was all it took to see that it was not a member of the standard issue carbine rifles.  The wood stock was of a deeper and finer finish, probably of a better quality wood.  The sheen of the metal in the good light told of a more loving craftsmanship in the smithing process, and maybe...  Yes, the way he talked about the ammunition, the way he looked at it, it was clear that this...was more than sentimental.  This was an almost unique piece.  Britta didn't consider herself any greater an expert on weapons than most anybody else in these trenches, but even the uninitiated could tell that this was a cut above the rest.  The only question was...what circumstances led it to be here with this man in these trenches like this?  She did not ask, because there was definitely a certain pained or forced demeanor about the man, and now may've not been the time to broach the subject.  No, better to make him feel welcome and help him in his time of need.  In fact...

[b][color=ed1c24]"I have no problems with having someone tag along with me on my rounds, especially if you need to get a feel for the place.  I take it you haven't been assigned to anywhere yet, either.  Let me see...  Hold on.  Corporal Ericson, do you need me around here, right now?  Anyone?"[/color][/b]

One of the nearby soldiers did got that faraway look people did when considering their options, then shook his head.

[b]"People are rotating here in a bit.  We can handle things 'till then."[/b]

Several others agreed with his statement.  Britta thanked them and turned back to 'Monsieur Blanc'.

[b][color=ed1c24]"Let's take a walk and we'll handle this right now.  Then, you can help me moving people's supplies if anything needs moving about camp and such.  It's better to get your feet under you here sooner than later, I say."[/color][/b]

Outwardly, she remained positive, though inwardly, she was [i]also[/i] like [i][b][color=ed1c24]'And better to get this little gem out of the public eye sooner, as well.'[/color][/b][/i].  That was a helluva piece of equipment!  She could only [i]begin[/i] to guess where it came from.  The most plausible answer was that it was simply a weapon that'd been in the family for a while, but something in the man's emotions made her wonder if there wasn't something more...