02-27-2018, 12:52 AM
Ol’ Rooster was back, baby.
Things had gone a little bit south in his life, and it culminated with the disgruntled secondary rejoining the Empire for the sake of a steady paycheck. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about it, but at least he was adjusting relative to his own experience. For instance, when the coffee maker literally burst into flames in front of him he’d simply turned on his heel and marched down the hall to steal a cup of coffee from Wolf Squad. After a little bit of shouting, mocking, and general name calling, Rooster returned to his living quarters with a fresh cup of coffee, a short comment, and a whole thing of French vanilla creamer. Better than how they started, in his eyes. That was the new Rooster. If he had to put up with being an Imperial again, he damn sure was going to enjoy the little things.
So ol’ Rooster, or Jack Jensen as he was known to closer friends, slid into a chair and kicked his feet up on a table. He set the creamer on a nearby table as he watched the fallout from Fuse’s recent shenanigans. Nearby, the team’s designated sniper, with the callsign “Hammer” sat with a similar level of comfort, and decided to shoot for some idle banter.
“So,” Hammer opened up the conversation. “I heard you took a stint as a farmer in the Vasty Deep. What was that place called?”
“Windfall Island,” Rooster answered. “It was a good gig. I’d still be there if I had a say in the matter. Nice little farm, grew what I wanted and made good money.”
“You bring any good shit back with you?” Hammer quickly asked.
Rooster cocked an eyebrow. He got the undertones of the question.
“Man, I didn’t grow anything like that,” Rooster answered flippantly. “Besides, even if I did, I walked through the same Imperial scanners you did.”
“Then what did you even grow out there?” Hammer responded, heavily disappointed by the loss of a presumed connection for illicit drugs.
“Corn, mostly,” Rooster answered, taking a quick sip of his coffee. “It was a pretty good harvest while I was there.”
Hammer’s interest had completely evaporated and left a little bit of resentment in its wake. “Fuck, you’re the most boring person I’ve ever met.”
Rooster and Hammer both jumped at the sound of hands slamming onto the table beside them. They quickly turned to see the squad’s receptionist, affectionately dubbed “Scrubsey” leaning in closely to their conversation, panting slightly due to the speed she sprinted over with.
“Oh my gosh, tell me about your corn!”
Things had gone a little bit south in his life, and it culminated with the disgruntled secondary rejoining the Empire for the sake of a steady paycheck. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about it, but at least he was adjusting relative to his own experience. For instance, when the coffee maker literally burst into flames in front of him he’d simply turned on his heel and marched down the hall to steal a cup of coffee from Wolf Squad. After a little bit of shouting, mocking, and general name calling, Rooster returned to his living quarters with a fresh cup of coffee, a short comment, and a whole thing of French vanilla creamer. Better than how they started, in his eyes. That was the new Rooster. If he had to put up with being an Imperial again, he damn sure was going to enjoy the little things.
So ol’ Rooster, or Jack Jensen as he was known to closer friends, slid into a chair and kicked his feet up on a table. He set the creamer on a nearby table as he watched the fallout from Fuse’s recent shenanigans. Nearby, the team’s designated sniper, with the callsign “Hammer” sat with a similar level of comfort, and decided to shoot for some idle banter.
“So,” Hammer opened up the conversation. “I heard you took a stint as a farmer in the Vasty Deep. What was that place called?”
“Windfall Island,” Rooster answered. “It was a good gig. I’d still be there if I had a say in the matter. Nice little farm, grew what I wanted and made good money.”
“You bring any good shit back with you?” Hammer quickly asked.
Rooster cocked an eyebrow. He got the undertones of the question.
“Man, I didn’t grow anything like that,” Rooster answered flippantly. “Besides, even if I did, I walked through the same Imperial scanners you did.”
“Then what did you even grow out there?” Hammer responded, heavily disappointed by the loss of a presumed connection for illicit drugs.
“Corn, mostly,” Rooster answered, taking a quick sip of his coffee. “It was a pretty good harvest while I was there.”
Hammer’s interest had completely evaporated and left a little bit of resentment in its wake. “Fuck, you’re the most boring person I’ve ever met.”
Rooster and Hammer both jumped at the sound of hands slamming onto the table beside them. They quickly turned to see the squad’s receptionist, affectionately dubbed “Scrubsey” leaning in closely to their conversation, panting slightly due to the speed she sprinted over with.
“Oh my gosh, tell me about your corn!”