Snippet #2770102

"Aw, look guys, a stray Echo," Desmond's eyes twinkled with merryment, "Can I keep him? Please?" His voice cracked a bit, trying to keep the laughter out of his throat, but ultimately failed. Laughing silently, he clutched his sides, and fell over backwards. Hearing people laugh had always made him smile sadly, and he didn't understand why. Getting back on his feet, he righted the chair and sat back on it, listening to a few Deltas laugh over his fall.

"Marc, isn't it?" He smiled softly and slapped his back hard, "Good to have you here." Turning towards Lucy, he said, "How is it that you techs can understand those Data Pads? They're like a puzzle without an end piece to me." He stared silently at the Data Pad, his mind working hard to understand how a small piece of machinery could hold so much information. Shaking his head slightly, he stared up at the ceiling, his eyes going slightly blind from the glare of the lights.

How strange it was. One moment, they were all thrust into this world, individuals without a home, and now this? 'Companions for life,' he thought, smirking a little. He could remember his home quite well, not wanting to forget it like many others. The trees that swayed softly in the wind, the sweet crab-apples that grew on those trees. A smile stretched slowly across his face, as he remembered the farm he used to play in as a child. Sighing slowly, he whiped his eyes quickly, not wanting to show others his weakness for fond memories.

Taking a slow, and deep, breath, he whispered conspiratorially, "Theres a shipment to arrive sometime this week, my friends," he winked quickly at Lucy, "Its coming in as a box of 15mm ammunition," even though they all knew that it usually came in a box of 25mm rounds, "I'm sure everyone here can agree that the food is not worthy enough for pigs, so, I ordered some real food from this guy I know." An evil twinkle entered his eyes, as a slow smile formed on his lips. Contraband of all sorts was his way of staying off of everyone's hit list. Because without him around, people would still be eating the same slop as they had for years. "There should be some chocolate, and some ham. Along with some other goodies," his smile then formed into a grin, "I also got the guy to send me some fresh water, as I'm sure everyone will be wanting some of that." He knew, as everyone knew, that the water on Triton was recycled over and over, until it tasted extremely bitter.

Even their waste was recycled, but he didn't want people finding out about that, espescially not the Plebes. "Don't want young sparrows to drop dead before they become hawks," he once said to his friends when they found out about it as well. "But we have to keep it quiet, alright?" He glared at Marc as he said this, then at Patrick. Desmond was taking a big risk by allowing the Plebe in on his little Black Market scheme, but knew that if he went down, then all of them would go down. This included several people from the other various squads, espescially from Alpha.

"It should be here by either tonight, a few hours before lights out, or in the morning before the War Games," he sat back in his chair, and stretched his arms to the ceiling, before resting his head in his hands, his elbows n the table. "By the way Patrick," Desmond looked over at the Plebe, "Nice job on making the Deltas look like complete asses." He gave him a thumbs up, then proceeded to hum a silent tune to himself, his eyes glazing over as he remembered his childhood.