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[color=Silver][sub]December 30th - Rear Trench[/sub][/color][/center]
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After their shift, the three went their separate ways, heading to the rear line. With several hours of free time, Elliot considered returning to the private room he had rented and taking a shower, but he figured it could wait until after this supposed mission. Instead, he passed the time in his room, routinely disassembling, cleaning, maintaining, and reassembling his various firearms. Once that was done, he went through the motions of his usual handgun practice-- quickly drawing the gun from its holster, bringing the weapon up to eye level, and then adjusting the sights accordingly, before repeating the process several times.

Although he rarely ever needed to use his revolver, it was important that he got used to its weight and feel-- to rely on an unfamiliar weapon was a gamble in itself, and Elliot wasn't the kind to take chances.

Elliot was a little confused as to why they decided to bring a designated marksman to a close-quarters trench raid but didn't complain much. If High Command wanted a couple of prisoners, then it was up to the infantry to retrieve 'em. He only hoped it would be worth the effort.

...and inevitable injuries and casualties that would result from it, ambush or not.

Within the tavern, he could spot a few familiar faces. Men and women in his unit, assigned on the trench raid in question. Michael, the young man he had shared a meal with just a few hours ago, two Darcsens-- a sergeant and a private; a man and woman respectively, and a lance corporal-- an exceptionally tall woman, at that. Elliot glanced at the array of equipment on the table, and once everyone was done giving their advice, he offered a bit of his own, obvious as it might seem.

[color=#239C89]"You'll probably want to pack light."[/color] Elliot said simply, the advice open to all. [color=#239C89]"You'll need to move around quickly in the trenches-- and there's no point in dying with full pockets."[/color] His tone was matter-of-factly, with no hint of malice. He was seemingly unfazed by his more... violent companions.

Elliot went over his own equipment as he thought about it. He would have to leave the rifle behind. Though his marksmanship was exceptional, the Scoped SM-Longfield was ill-suited to a trench raid. Instead, he would be bringing the John-Wissel Revolver, which was standard issue for officers and marksmen. 

For even closer encounters, he'd pack his knife and the garotte wire. Bringing the knife was obvious, and while doubted he'd be able to sneak up on someone and be able to throttle them with the garotte once the battle was in full swing, it was light, and good to have on hand regardless. 

Lastly, he'd pack his flare gun and a few flares. Ideally, they'd be crossing No Man's Land under cover of darkness, but once the raid itself began, having some light on hand might turn the tide, if things went south. He doubted the raid would remain silent forever, after all.

As he inspected the last of his equipment, he turned to the rest of them. His expression was as calm and neutral as ever as he thought about the mission ahead. It was certainly dangerous, but all missions were. This was not an impossible task by any stretch of the imagination, and he knew they'd get it done.