This was fucking awful. Awful in a way that it really wasn't that awful, but it wasn't what he had signed up for, either, and so he was going to complain relentlessly about it in his mind and in the barracks when he could finally let off some steam. Shiny tech and the maintenance of it wasn't his prerogative and neither did he want it to be, but it wasn't like you could really tell the chain of command that you wanted to be a prissy fuck about what missions you took. You got what you were given and that was that, and you said 'please' and 'thank you' when you got bent over and royally fucked. For the fucking Commonwealth.
The sound of footsteps in unison on the pavement echoed in the quiet night. Toreth barely batted an eyelash at the muttered question, and for a few seconds he remained silent, content to listen to the familiar rhythm of the footfalls of his squad mates, as if he hadn't heard the scientist's little invective. To engage or not to engage? Fuck, the man was probably some left-wing arsehole who thought he knew better about the whole war. An ivory tower academic. If he didn't say anything now, the over-privileged fuck would think he could spend the whole time bitching and moaning.
"It's S.O.P, not fanfare," he said coolly, not sparing the civilian a glance. He looked at BC instead, who he could see was keeping an impeccably polite expression, maybe the barest traces of exasperation in his eyes if you knew where to look. "And you know, a few of the men here would be more than happy to help with your admin's personal therapy, me included, so don't get too torn up about that. We take care of our kind, as long as they're happy to be our kind."
He shot a wink at the civilian at the last comment, all easy grin.
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The sound of footsteps in unison on the pavement echoed in the quiet night. Toreth barely batted an eyelash at the muttered question, and for a few seconds he remained silent, content to listen to the familiar rhythm of the footfalls of his squad mates, as if he hadn't heard the scientist's little invective. To engage or not to engage? Fuck, the man was probably some left-wing arsehole who thought he knew better about the whole war. An ivory tower academic. If he didn't say anything now, the over-privileged fuck would think he could spend the whole time bitching and moaning.
"It's S.O.P, not fanfare," he said coolly, not sparing the civilian a glance. He looked at BC instead, who he could see was keeping an impeccably polite expression, maybe the barest traces of exasperation in his eyes if you knew where to look. "And you know, a few of the men here would be more than happy to help with your admin's personal therapy, me included, so don't get too torn up about that. We take care of our kind, as long as they're happy to be our kind."
He shot a wink at the civilian at the last comment, all easy grin.