and we all lift together

“Hopefully somewhere discreet.” She slips him a tank-settling lozenge. So he can keep working efficiently, of course.

Dee scowls. Mostly to himself. “I don’t know how ‘discreet’ anything can be when we’re all on top of each other.”

Still, he takes the tablet with a grateful pulse field-to-field and his helm ducked low. He knows he’ll be expected to make it up to her— Elita was mercenary like that, but it was also part of why she made a good, impartial project lead.

And he’s got quotas of his own to hit.

"You...you okay buddy?" o.o

He stares.

Still clutching the heavy drill in both hands, vents stalling, D-16’s diminutive field pulls even tighter to his frame as he tries, in vain, to understand what he’s seeing.

That they knew, and they knew how to express it, like they came online knowing, and all any of them want to do is express how much they want all the things they want from each other all the time.

Dee—

D-16 is… fine. Serviceable. He never really felt the need to go by anything else, even when most of the cohort had either named themselves or got nicknamed against their will (poor Glitch).

But one day he’s going to join the Primal Guard. One day he’s going to be a field medic and he’s going to work with Sentinel and the other Guards and he—

There’s nothing wrong with going by Demolitions-16. Nothing wrong with anyone going by their serial and designation. Elita-1 kept her serial code, though she doesn’t use Electricians anymore. And Orion Pax was just a bastardizing of Pathfinder-4x with another name stapled to the front of it.

…the thought of signing his name as D-16 on an official document felt unimpressive.

Insignificant.