Snippet #1852600

An hour? God damn the efficiency of this organisation.

Zack had been hoping to at least get to talk to some of his new squadmates before they set out to start killing things together. He needed to know how they worked, needed some rapport , some kind of connection. How could they expect a team to function without knowing each other? Well, he knew the answer to that. It was because they were all the best, the very best. So they had no choice but to be in sync. They all knew what they were doing and knew they had to watch each others backs. Still, he was a little annoyed, he would have enjoyed some time for his muscles to recover. Perhaps they'd be heading further afield and he could rest up on the journey. Perhaps not. Either way he would have to be on top of his game.

"Entertainment's off then" Zack said, aiming his words towards Caitriona as he scooped the first bite of salmon onto his fork. "As is the training." He savoured the flakes of fish, excellently cooked as always, and looked at Jace. "So you'll be glueing us back together if we have an accident for now." He swallowed, face distant in thought for a moment. An hour would be time enough for him to gear up and gather his things, no doubt about that, but maybe he'd find a chance to have a chat with Ghost before the briefing. Each leader had their own tactics and strategies. Knowing in advance what to expect was never a disadvantage.

His face cleared and focused as he returned to his meal. Better than yesterday? He didn't care. It was just food.

Zack took this time, as he chewed another mouthful, to examine the people now at the table. An even ratio of Men: Women, a rare occurance in squads. Truthfully, he didn't care about sex any more than he cared about toenail length. All that mattered was whether they could do the job well. Looking at the newcomer, he was unsure. She looked as though she'd leapt straight out of a comic book, but in a strange way that seemed to fit. There were certainly a variety of characters in Task-397 and in his experience that made for a strong group. Clashes of personality seemed likely but hell, he'd prefer that to boredom any day. They were all professional enough to keep it from interfering with work.

Would he get along with these folks better than his old squad? He didn't care. That was politics, which ranked lower than food on his list of priorities.