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[color=Silver][sub]December 30th - Trebin --> Supply Trench Briefing[/sub][/color]

[sub]Interacting with: [@FalloutJack][/sub]

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[color=Silver]	At the first crack of the hour, there was a knock at Jean's door. The heavy hand struck his opaque blockade with such force that it shuddered on its hinges, and he was awoken from a peaceful day's sleep. Before, he had sat outside in a rickety chair for all about five minutes, before boredom had overcame him and taken him to his room where he cherished a few hours' sleep. But the weighted first shunted his desire to sleep, and he dragged himself out of his duvet. He was dressed down, slightly, with a button or three undone from his main shirt. When he opened the door, he was met with another Darcsen, around the same age as him, spoiling little more than the standard issue gear and a private's insignia. The guy made quick work to readjust himself, despite the raggedness of Jean, and he cleared his throat. God, he was as clean as water, Jean thought, and the tasteful state of his attire meant one of two things: he was a kiss-arse or he was a new arrival.[/color]

[color=Orange][b]"Corporal Robin?"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]He asked, and with a somewhat dreary lick of pedanticism, he rolled his hand and eyes to the more innocent lad.[/color]

[color=03DAED][b]"Robin-[i]Charpentier[/i]...but yes, that's me."[/b][/color]

[color=Orange][b]"Message from Company HQ, by Captain Middleton."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]He began, with all the cheeriness of a skylark at morn. Jean felt his world get just that little bit heavier at the mere mentioning of his name. Every day, for as long as he would have lived on the frontline, the damn Captain had his fingers in every nook and cranny, and it followed him around constantly. At first, he assumed it had something to do with Lucia. Perhaps he'd been caught out taking her off to the village, and that he was ready to take out his next verbal lashing. The actuality, however, was quite different.[/color] [color=Orange][b]"He wants to meet you and a selection of others from your platoon at the supply trench. Pronto, it says here."[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	From his hand, Jean drew the slip and scanned through the handwritten notes. It was his handwriting, alright, but it had an aspect of hurriedness to it. He looked to the little clock in the corner of his room and checked the time. On the dot, it was, and he had a little fraction of a moment to make his way all the way back to the supply trench. Missions were almost always at fifteen minute intervals, rarely ever at a time of actual convenience. He sighed. The paper barely gave any details, but it just mentioned that he'd been selected to join another daily task.[/color]

[color=03DAED][b]"That it? Anything else?"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]The other Darcsen shrugged. Between them, the formalities broke apart in an instant. He felt a little disheartened by seeing him there, acting as a runner, fresh off the production line of troops, but the lad seemed to make do of the exhausting work. Jean had spent such little time thinking of the Darcsen plight throughout his service, for he saw it as no different, if not a little better, than it was back home. With the war around them, there was little time to think about hating their fellow man - that didn't stop some people though, who'd made it more their source of entertainment.

	Still, he saw little solidarity in the identity of the runner. They were on opposing sides of the spectrum. He looked, and behaved in the way that he talked, just like any other excited guy ready for war would. Jean was already past that point. He'd started to lose interest in what he was and felt more in line with who he'd become, and what came next for him.[/color]

[color=Orange][b]"That's it, Corporal. I'd get a move on."[/b][/color]

[color=03DAED][b]"Shut up..."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]He shut the door, and lugged his way back inside to dress himself. Whatever he had been called for, he was more or less ready to go off and die like it were any other Tuesday.[/color]

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[color=Silver]	There was a light drizzle in the air, and the soggied bottoms of the trench brooded a concoction most vile. To add to the disgusting attitude that was the midday stink, Jean had arrived a little after he'd hoped for. There was already a gathering that had started to form in the supply trench and he'd done his best to slip in unnoticed. But as he arrived, there were a few pried eyes that had honed in on him. First, there were Lucia's, who'd done so simply out of reason to say hello, whilst also looking somewhat apologetic as she stood a metre away from the second pair of eyes. One Captain Middleton - with a piercing gaze that sank into Jean's skull. He was sick to look at, and he felt the dribble of the day worsen as he was soon nearby. The disgruntled attitude of the two had done wonders in keeping them cooperative with one another. And Jean knew why Middleton wasn't particularly fond of him - he'd made the wrong decision to promote the bastard to Corporal. Sure, he'd done his part here and there, and made some strides, but the stain of Carter's death was still on his legacy, and those like the Oceanics were quick to ensure he never forgot it.

	He saw a good few faces; there were the regulars he'd recognised, that had stuck in his pack since the day he'd arrived at Hill 58, but there were also the new replacements. Some had some experience behind them before they'd arrived, whilst others were as fresh as daisies. Back then, he would've made the first impression as good as he could've. Perhaps even he'd have done the usual hopeless innocence, where he'd lose himself in the eyes of some pretty woman, or something. Then, however, he was just as inclined to do nothing but remain as lifeless as possible. They were probably going to die within the few days, or weeks, or months. And if it weren't them, it'd be him.[/color]

[color=0AB100][b]"Corporal."[/b][/color]

[color=03DAED][b]"Captain."[/b][/color]

[color=0AB100][b]"You're really pressing yourself for time, aren't you?"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Middleton chastised him for his tardiness, but it was all the usual. There were a few Darcsens around, and unlike the first time they met Middleton kept his mouth shut of any demoralising statements. That being said, Jean never knew if they were serious or not, or if they were just part of some elaborate method to punch down the soldiers in order to build them up into killers. Knowing how he treated Lucia at times, he didn't cross out the possibility.[/color] [color=0AB100][b]"What's the excuse?"[/b][/color]

[color=03DAED][b]"Sorry, Sir."[/b][/color]

[color=0AB100][b]"Pardon?"[/b][/color]

[color=03DAED][b]"At the village, Sir. Took a while for the runner to arrive."[/b][/color]

[color=0AB100][b]"So it would seem."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]And right there, the conversation came to a close. Middleton took himself to the forefront of the party and he called for a gathering. The rain kicked up a little and he wiped his brow clean of a mud stain. Whilst it came through, he lit himself a cigarette and huffed in all he could. Jean had never seen him smoke, but it wasn't as if it were the most surprising aspect of the man.[/color] [color=0AB100][b]"Alright, we've got the usual today. Wire laying. Half of you will be taking the wire packs and will be laying them across the front, approximately thirty metres out from the frontine trench. There's a gap that was blasted out by artillery last night. You'll know it when you see it. Other half will do the usual security. Make sure no one sneaks up on you."[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	He looked around with an irritation. In the corner, there were only two packs of wire fencing in a coil, waiting to be hauled onto someone's back like a rucksack. It was less than he'd ordered, but it was still more than enough to layer up two lines of the wire, the minimal requirement for Federation standards. Jean saw him trudge over, flick the barbs and then return back, all in silence. The rain patted their coats and jackets to fill in for his absent voice, before his tongue drove the sound away with his booming command.[/color]

[color=0AB100][b]"Now keep yourselves on alert. Another section is being set out at a similar time. Just in case, make sure you have the ammunition needed to repel any sort of counter. Get that fence wiring down, but if all ends are hopeless, then get yourselves back pronto, and bring the wire with you."[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	The briefing went on for a little while longer. Jean, having caught up with it all and gotten the gist, made his way over to someone he'd spent a little bit of time departed from. One Isaac Black, the Lance Corporal who did his job better than he did. He was a tougher lad, no doubt, with that weird interconnectivity to mutts and whatnot. Jean didn't understand it himself but felt indifferent of it either way. He'd shown his compassion and camaraderie in the past before, and then he thought that the conversation before the big outing could've been a wise investment.[/color]

[color=03DAED][b]"Isaac."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]He nodded.[/color] [color=03DAED][b]"How've you been holding up? And - I guess - what's new on the street, right?"[/b][/color]