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On the far end of the Mess, Remy sat alone at a small table, digging his spoon into a bowl of questionable brown slop. He didn't look at the slop, the spoon, the bowl, or even the other Mechwarriors talking about whatever it was they'd gotten into last night. His eyes were fixed dead ahead, at the scowling fat woman serving breakfast to the [i]Ankhanne's[/i] crew. The fat lady glared right back at him, as she had for the past ten minutes.

Slowly, deliberately, he raised the spoon with a heaping helping of mysterious brown slime, put it in his mouth, and slurped it down.

[color=FireBrick]"Mmmm,"[/color] he said, his voice a barely contained growl. [color=FireBrick]"Good chili."[/color]

[color=Violet]"Hey, you Overkill?"[/color]

Remy felt a thump on his shoulder. [color=Violet]"Oi pal, you listenin'? I'm lookin' fer Overkill."[/color]

With no small degree of annoyance, Remy broke eye contact with the fat mess lady to see who had thumped him on the shoulder.

[color=FireBrick]"Well, you found him,"[/color] he said, before raising an eyebrow at the sight before him.

Standing with her left hand on her hip and a prosthetic right hand holding a technician's noteputer was a tattooed woman in black coveralls and a purple tank top that matched her spiked hair. She had a tattoo of a hand of poker cards on one side of her neck: Aces and Eights, the old "Dead Man's Hand." Her left arm was sleeved from shoulder to wrist in a mash of clashing patterns that looked like a graphic designer had stepped on a land mine, and the mechanical housing of her right arm had engravings to match. She had a half-dozen piercings on each ear, a ring on her lip, and if Remy were a betting man, a few more he'd be interested in seeing some other time.

[color=Violet]"Steph Fitzpatrick, the 'Mech tech assigned to th' Foirestarter,"[/color] she introduced herself, her voice carrying a thick St. Ives Irish lilt. [color=Violet]"Elena th' Chief Tech had me an' the boys up 'alf the bloody noight troyin' ta fix leakages in th' coolin' system. The patch job oughta hold fer th' mission, so long as ya keep from rollin' yer face across't th' command console. I just need ye ta soign off on th' work order so's I can--....Christ, what are you eatin'?"[/color]

Remy turned his glare back at the fat lady at the counter. [color=FireBrick]"Chili."[/color]

[color=Violet]"Sure that's chili, fella?"[/color] Steph asked with a chuckle.

[color=FireBrick]"That's what the lady says,"[/color] he growled.

[color=Violet]"Looks ta me loike someone poured some red pepper an' a can o' corn into a bucket o' congealed engine grease, an' saved it fer if one o'th' new Mechwarriors [i]really[/i] pissed 'er off."[/color]

[color=FireBrick]"It does look like that,"[/color] Remy said, before taking another slow, deliberate slurp. [color=FireBrick]"It's real tasty."[/color]

[color=Violet]"So whaddidja do?"[/color] Steph asked with an impish grin.

[color=FireBrick]"I said I'd like to have some sausage and eggs before I headed out for the mission,"[/color] he answered, [color=FireBrick]"and offered to give her some sausage when I got back."[/color]

Fitzpatrick burst out laughing. [color=Violet]"Fuckin' hell!"[/color]

Remy kept his glare on the cafeteria lady. [color=FireBrick]"She said she was fresh out of sausage, but that if I liked the chili, maybe we'd talk."[/color]

He slurped another spoonful, and thumped a fist against his chest to help force it down, never breaking eye contact the whole time.

[color=FireBrick]"It's [i]real. Good. Chili,[/i]"[/color] he stated as his stomach audibly gurgled.

[color=Violet]"Y'know that'll probably make ya shit yerself in th' cockpit, yeah?"[/color] Steph said.

[color=FireBrick]"Maybe,"[/color] he shrugged. [color=FireBrick]"Wouldn't be the first time."[/color]

Steph scoffed in disbelief. [color=Violet]"What, wouldn't be th' first time ye shat yerself?"[/color]

[color=FireBrick]"Ever gone up on the front lines against the Black Widow Company?"[/color] he asked.

[color=Violet]"Can't say I 'ave, but what's that gotta do with--"[/color]

[color=FireBrick]"Well there you go,"[/color] Remy said with a flatness that implied that was the end of that particular line of conversation.

[color=Violet]"Well,"[/color] the Mech-tech cleared her throat, [color=Violet]"If ye wouldn't moind soignin' off on this 'ere work order, we'll get the last bit o' prep done before drop. Anythin' you wanna request before then?"[/color]

[color=FireBrick]"Nah,"[/color] Remy waved her off. [color=FireBrick]"Just gonna enjoy my breakfast, get the job done, then come back here and see what's on the menu."[/color]

[color=Violet]"Suit yerself,"[/color] the tech shrugged. [color=Violet]"I'll make sure ta leave a fresh pair o' shorts in th' cockpit fer ye if ye need it."[/color]

As Fitzpatrick left the Mess, Remy took one last spoonful of slop, looked the cafeteria lady dead in the eye, and wolfed it down.

[color=FireBrick]"Good fuckin' chili."[/color]