Snippet #1693407

Logan was sitting in one of the comfy chairs, near a window, smoking away like he always did. As soon as one finally ended, he would light up another with his Spider lighter. He tried to focus on his new job, being some Executive Officer for the team the Red Lancers. His medical bag, which he had carried with him for over 3 years, got a make over with the Red Lancer's icon replacing the original red cross. He never liked that cross anyway, but the Lancers logo looked alright. Nothing too flashy, just a red dude on a red horse. With a lance, of course. And now he kept lighting his lighter, looking around.

A dude that, he guessed, was supposed to be unnerving with a massive black case on his back was waking up some random sleeping chick. These people looked all like massive jokes to him, none of them looking like a normal, simple soldier. But then again, neither was he. Maybe he should start talking or something... Screw it. He was too damn tired to even care if someone got shot. And his job was to care. Just as he thought that the moron squads couldn't become more idiotic, a complete fool of a dude walks in and starts talking like the world just crowned him friggin king. He didn't look like he was from around here, but neither was he, so why the hell was he talking?

But his annoyance spiked when the dude laid down on the couch. Was this guy a soldier, or some random chef?! He began to swear under his breath, annoyed at how cheery this guy was. Soldiers were fighting last night. He obviously wasn't. And that pissed him off. As long as the guy kept his damn mouth shut and wasn't on his team, he would be fine. Logan decided to voice that opinion.

"Hey, buddy. If you haven't noticed, we are all a little tired after last night. So if you could shut up and keep quiet like everybody else, we would all be grateful." Sarcasm dripped from his lips as his double coloured eyes blinked.