Setting
This one only promised to be nicer.
"Es tut mir leid," He apologized again about last time, hoping that she wasn't still upset about their unpleasant run in with the police on that barbaric world.
Ilsa concentrated and fixed it from where she was at, not wanting to be bothered by the crookedness of the frame all evening long. Messy. So messy. Well, it was better now, and she resolved to ignore as much as she could about much of the other problems. It was to be a pleasant evenings, after all.
It was a small thing that irked his mind, but he felt it deserved an apology nonetheless.
But they were special cases, and he hoped that Ilsa wasn't jealous of his love for the other two little Valkyries. After all, they were just as much hers as his.
"Ich bin dein Mann." He repeated in a whisper, gently moving to remove her glove as he did his own, soon brushing his skin against hers under the table, his palm carrying his love for her and their children across that connection.
No one about them knew what thoughts, feelings, images the two shared.
Still did he smile, leaning over to kiss her, were it she would allow it, feeling a rather irresistible urge to do such a thing at such thoughts of their daughters. Mathias was rather obsessed them, and especially their mother. "Ich liebe dich, mein Valkyrie."
Friends were few for the ranks of the Coalition's non-commissioned officers, especially on an occupied world.
Quietly did the Ithacan's eyes dance around the place, fairly empty save for one or two frequents sitting at the bar itself, the sergeant refusing to sit until his friend had arrived. Thomas didn't want her to think he wasn't there. If he wasn't, who would the two talk to about the pains of non-commissioned life?
Being a sergeant was miserable work, he supposed, but worth it.
"Thomas!" She greeted happily. "Why haven't you found a seat yet? Come one, let's find one before the best ones are taken." She said, pleased.
A sigh escaped the man as he walked with her, sliding into a seat with a smile as he pondered just what he wanted to drink. Probably a lager of some kind. "... so how are things with the other thumb-drives?" He rarely got an eye in on the fairly enigmatic world of the capsuleers, and he could confess some slight curiosity. "Any excitement?"
"We're not being used, as far as most of us here are concerned, and none of us can decide if that's a good or bad thing."
Considering the hassle dealing with paperwork, he and his people reached the consensus that it was better to kill the hostiles than ever take them prisoner.
"... well, at least it's low-impact." Unlike his work, but they were just lowly mortals after all. He grinned slightly. "Besides, you have time off enough to be here." Which was a treat in and of itself.
But she'd deal.
Though every time one of his people were KIA on this rock it infuriated him, considering how little gratitude the local populace seemed to show. It was nearly sickening, considering. At least he hadn't been on the landing waves, that would have been Hell. "As long as I'm paid..." He trailed off, leaving the end of the statement ambiguous.
"... but, on a more important note, how's Sergeant Petra doing?"
So uncivilized.
A tap or two on a digital menu ordered his drink, the Ithacan returning his gaze to Petra. "I wish sergeant Foreman could say the same."
This planet.
An overabundance of firearms did that.
But the festering mindjob the whole thing did on him was starting to eat away at him - even if he felt alright during the day, things didn't seem to be so placid in the waters of his mind as his dreams ventured into realms best left forgotten. "Doing my best to keep it from getting into the workplace." He poked fun at the thought.
The woman thought it over. "Instead...there's plenty of loose men and woemn alike on this planet. Take up with one of them!"
Ugh. No. Didn't want to think about that now. Just Petra and beer.
"... yeah. I'd rather play safe with who winds up in the sack with me." And a Terran really wasn't the best way to do that.
"And most strictly off limits. Who am I kidding? I haven't been laid in ages." Finding someone of a similar status to her was hard.
But as for Scatterrans? "I'll say." He commented, quite a few, it seemed, and any of them would be better than some short Terran. "... can't say I have either, not since I rotated out, and I know what's not waiting for me back at Beta Hydri." Thanks to the rather eloquent and thought out letter he had received - that consisted of two words. Three, if you counted compounds.
We're over.
Guess she had found some fancy ODI or someone to buy her nice things. With an exaggerated gesture and inflection to his voice, Foreman raised his hand. "... I volunteer, sergeant." Of course, it was a joke, though he certainly wouldn't pass up the chance. Even were it one was accounted for, Petra had a way of making you look twice.
The terrans were a decent height...for her. Most Scatterrans on the other hand, well. It was good she liked her men big.
Wait. She was being serious. That look said it all.
"... I'm not even in the same platoon." He mused aloud, blinking as he did. It certainly seemed free of the usual taboo one associated with such a thing, though it still took him a moment longer to consider. "I can't say I'd complain too much, master sergeant." A rather sly smirk meandered onto his visage, tossed back at her.
"... I have been looking at you for some time." An unabashed confession of sorts.