सारजेंट।

Pagan was enjoying this. He loved when people fell at his feet and gave him so much approval. The troop was not here to question his actions but only to praise him and it fueled the king’s burning ego. He placed a hand on his shoulder presenting a gentle smile.

”Of course, my boy. If only everyone here was as appreciative as you are. This country could learn a thing or two from you.”

   Samir felt weak in the knees as King Min placed his hand on his    shoulder. In fact, he wobbled a bit-- embarrassing. He straightened his    back, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. 

   Guns were new to her, as a child archery was all she had.    Besides, she didn’t think she’d be involved in the war, a leader    at that. At least she tries, right? & she can roll her eyes, groan    all she wants, but she knows it’s not her expertise. She leans    against him, nudging his side lightly at his comment —

   ‘Yes, yes I’m the stubborn woman who can barely shoot a gun,’     She mumbles, head tilted to gaze up at him, ‘But, because you’re     suddenly the gun expert here, teach me. Nothing stubborn, promise.’

   Samir chuckled at 'gun expert,' moving behind Amita and giving    her back the rifle. "It's flattering-- I've been told I'm a good shot, but    from you? Wow, never thought the infamous leader of the Golden Path    would compliment me on my skills," he said, his words dripping with    sarcasm. 

   So it was true. Amita really didn't know her way around a gun. Bow and    arrow, yes, but this was just hilarious. Samir walked up to the rebel, gently    taking the gun away from her. He set it down on a nearby table, wrapping an    arm around her waist before kissing her cheek.

Pagan grew aware of the fact that this particular troop wanted to make some conversation with the king. He watched the anxious boy in among the plenty of other soldiers. He was one of many yes but he did show initiative which perhaps some of the others were lacking.

“Just business, my boy. Gotta keep you all motivated, no? So it’s a new thing I’ve started, seems to work.”

   Samir nearly tripped completely from his feet-- Pagan Min was making conversation? The Havildar smoothed out his hair, not to subtle, in fact, putting on some sort of nervous smile. He has to make a good impression now-- not just one out of politeness.

There was lack of a reaction to the feel of fingers brushing against her own. Here she was thinking he’d t r y something & yet he continues to do nothing. Call her paranoid, she does quickly take her hand from his arm however. His comment only made her laugh again, even roll her eyes. He hurt her - right she wishes he would. 

'Turn around,' She instructs, hand raised with a finger extended to the cabin behind him. & when he doesn’t turn around, she raises her rifle, ‘Turn around and walk into the cabin, now.’ Eyebrows raise as she nudges her head, hell she even gives him a sudden push to his shoulder, oh why wasn’t he understanding? She leans in closer to him, ‘We’ll talk in there, like I said play with my game, go.’

   He'd rather not hesitate. The punishment of being shot was convincing enough. Samir slowly walked into the building, his hands up in a surrender position. This 'game' she was playing? She was already winning. He didn't even know who he was losing to. The Havildar sighed, frowning as he turned slightly to look at the rifle. Yeah. That'll definitely kill him.

   Hurt him - ? That was far from her plan. Everyone always thought    Amita was here to hurt people, no. She loved playing with another’s   mind, but hurting? Physical pain was far from her expertise, she left   that to the rebels, Sabal if he cared. Manipulation was far more f u n   to her, but for once she wasn’t trying that here. She was just curious   consider it, wanting to know him. After all it was RARE to meet a solider   like him.

  & the silence wasn’t helping, her stare wasn’t helping. Her mind was   running with ideas after ideas, thoughts collecting. He was just so   p o l i t e - how did he even become a solider? By now she expected   him to run for it, kill her, but he just hasn’t. It was a fight that wasn’t   there, & she wasn’t going to make it into one. 

  ‘You won’t send troops regardless, what are you going to do, call    them?' She laughs at the comment, he could t r y & he’d fail. Her    hand rests on his shoulder, reassuring ( slightly ), ‘No, I won’t hurt    you. But, if I do let you go it’s done secretly, because right now    what they want is me killing you, but I won’t —

                because the last thing I need is the image of  a leader                 of the Golden Path sparing a Royal Army Solider. So                you’ll play my game & I’ll let you go, okay?’

   Leader of the Golden Path? That was Sabal, no? Unless it was that other woman-- Samir's shoulders tensed; perhaps she knows his parents. Best play nice... He nearly jumped out of his skin-- again-- when she placed her hand on his shoulder. The Havildar brought his hand up, brushing his fingers against her own. Fucking hell, he probably looked like an idiot. His mouth hanging open like a dog's, eyes wide and everyone was just staring. 

   It was believable, he was Royal Army after all. His friends that she    apparently killed - she could care less. They were in the way &    everyone knows if you’re in her way, she will get rid of it. Now    the debate within her mind was what to do with him.

   ‘It got out of control because you let it,’ She corrects, another    cocky grin forming. Now she was just being - lack of a better    word - a bitch ( so the men would consider her ). His comments    weren’t exactly helping either, she was rude - she was unpleasant?    Right. Gaze falls to the rebels now staring at her, is this the part    when she takes control over the man before her, prove she’s    ruthless?

                                                                                   Nah ——

   ‘I’ve been told I’m quite the bitch, thanks for acknowledging.’ Not    that she c a r e d, really. Arms cross over her chest, eyes meeting    with his once more, ‘I don’t think letting you go will be too fun    though, wouldn’t you think? I didn’t even introduce myself — you    shouldn’t judge people before you know them, Samir.’

   Samir looked over his shoulder at other rebels staring. Was he making a scene? His ears felt hot as he tried to hide under his jacket collar. The Havildar squinted at the woman, trying his best to hide the fact that he was obviously pouting at her words. "It wasn't my fault, ma'am. It was whoever was so bright to attack the outpost. It posed no threat either, if you'll let me add, it's only got one alarm," looking over at the broken alarm, he huffed, his shoulders slumping, "Had. Had one alarm." 

   Samir wishes she would just stop looking at him like that. He wouldn't go as far to call her something vulgar-- to her face-- so if he may, she's being a bitch. He jumped as she repeated the word aloud-- could she read minds, too? Kyra help him, he's only trying to be polite to the woman. 

   His ears perked up at what she had said. How rude! He surely wasn't judging her in a negative sense, no. In fact, she was pretty, seemed tough, and like she could handle herself quite easily. The only negative connotations he was making were going off of her terrible attitude. 

Pagan watched the soldiers who were flocking around him decrease in size as those who only were recently promoted stayed. The king also noticed one join the group, a nervous spring in his step.

“I’m fine, thank you. Anyway, to answer your question which is the same question that you all probably have is that I’m here to congratulate you on your promotions. So if you could all line up and I’ll give you each the handshakes and yadda yadda.”

   Samir frowned slightly at the quick dismissal of his question. The King was an incredible man, yes, but not the most polite. The Havildar rubbed the back of his neck anxiously, looking at his shoes. He has to at least make some conversation with him. 

    Throwing a weapon was stupid as it was confusing. She watched it for a moment, just watching for it to set something off - in the clear, for now. She did lower her own weapon, her hand gripping his arm ( slightly gentle ) to drag him along at her own pace of walking.

     ‘You’re extremely polite for someone in the army.’ Not that she was complaining, being called ma’am actually had a nice ring to it. The men in the army were just far less nice to women, by now she had been expecting a slur of sorts.

      ‘No, no you were supposed to be here. You know why Major Samir Hari? Because Pagan wants you to be,’ Her tone is cocky, as was that smirk that fails to fade. Suddenly she stops, hand free of her grip on his arm, ‘& you probably heard something on the radio about this outpost and you tried to take it back, but you f a i l e d so now what should I do with you, hm?'

   Samir tensed at her response, shaking his head in disbelief. How could she not believe him? Then again-- one look at his uniform would give anyone a reason. The Havildar squirmed as she held onto his arm, absentmindedly bringing his hand up to brush his fingers against her hand. Fuck, she was pretty-- No. Samir shook his head, frowning as she took her hand away. 

   "I did have a reason, and I'll give you that, miss. I was stationed here from dawn until dusk. And-- don't think I didn't fight alongside with my colleagues. Y'know, my friends you had killed. It just got out of control..." he pursed his lips, furrowing his brow as he stared at his shoes. He wasn't that brave to try and take an outpost once it had already been taken. Precisely why he liked being stationed in the North-- he was a coward, of sorts.

   Not to be r u d e, but she couldn’t refrain from a wide grin    forming. This was a joke, right? He was joking - this was a    fucking joke, a prank! She had never witnessed a solider    royal army that is - so nervous. By now she would expect    a blow to the chest, but she gets this? Well, he just made her    job a lot easier. 

   ‘I’m not putting down shit,’ She nudges her head towards his    own gun, ‘— so unless you want to get shot, you lower your    weapon. & if you think I’m bluffing, try me.’

             Her walk is slow as she nears him, eyes squint              to study - still a joke, ‘You hide because of a little              shooting? That’s cute, who are you?’

   Samir felt a hot wash of shame when she had smirked at him, his face turning bright red. Was he not doing a good job of being a threat? He's never been tough, but he's definitely not something to laugh at. The Havildar scowled, wrinkling his nose as she started talking once more. This woman was especially rude-- but she scared him. Best tread lightly still.

   Samir practically yelped as she walked toward him, nearly throwing his weapon onto the ground. He flinched at the thunk sound it made-- probably not a good idea. Glaring at the term 'cute,' he shoved his hands in his pockets. He's not cute. He's tough, and he swears on his mother's life he is. Unless it's a bit of a stretch. 

Pagan hated doing this. The majority of hid army were obnoxious and quite frankly dim witted. He scoffed as one of them pulled on his suit, quite obviously brushing their essence off of it. The king took a step back, distancing himself from the crowd before shouting an announcement over the group. Putting on his ‘I love everyone here’ mask he plastered a smile across his face and begun to talk.

“Can anyone recently promoted soldiers comes with me a second please?”

   Samir's shoulders immediately tensed at his order, whipping his head over his shoulder to look at King Min. That's him. He's been recently promoted. Why does he want those soldiers with him? The Havildar slowly made his way over to the King, along with a few other soldiers. He tried to stay stoic-- how he'd been trained to act since day one-- but in front of the King? It was difficult. Samir had nearly idolized him since he was a boy; he was squirming around-- whether it be anxiousness or being excited to finally fucking meet him.

   Another outpost claimed as their own. If they kept up this parade    of winnings, they’d be one step closer to the North; one step    closer to Kyrat as their own. Of course she uses their meaning    the Golden Path, but no one had to know her secret. This outpost    was of her own doing, her own planning - & where was Sabal?    Who c a r e d to be honest.

   ‘Search it top to bottom - you know the drill.’ Not like there was     ever anything GOOD to be found ( mostly hostages to be saved ).     Slinging her assault rifle over her shoulder, she too begins to scan     the area, her goal to find anything of value. & here she was     thinking she found another hostage. 

                      ‘— Stop!’ She orders, grabbing her own                         weapon to aim at the - solider ? - how                         confusing. Oh, how she SHOULD shoot                                                      ‘Why are you hiding?’

   Samir flinched violently, aiming his rifle at the woman as she aimed hers. He was panicky, his hands shaking. She looked familiar-- seemed like she was a leader of sorts. Surely, she could easily wreck him, so he best tread carefully. 

   "In the name of the king, uh," the havildar wiped the sweat from his brow, failing at hiding the fact that he was already terrified of the stranger, "put down your weapon. Yes, put it down, ma'am."

  So, Samir did what he did best. Hide. He wasn't the bravest or the smartest, but damn he knew how to hide. Almost too well. Gunfire had ceased, and he hadn't heard any of his colleagues speaking. The havildar leaned against a wall, peeking out of the window behind him. "टट्टी।" he whispered, holding his rifle close to his chest.