#theoutsiderstrash

The Character I See You As: v sarcasic… v bitchy… but also v appreciative?? IS THIS… LEWIS NIXON? I was gonna say Guarnere/Toye but I feel like both are bitchy in general and also to everyone else. Like they really don’t care who they offend or why, whereas you at least care SOME. Nixon is just ready to complain 24/7 and tbh I’m here for it. I love my angry, but also adorable son. He does his best, I swear.

Your Three Best Friends: Harry Welsh, Bill Guarnere, Carwood Lipton

The One You Don’t Get Along With: Anyone who has authority that you can’t respect. Also anyone that can’t handle the job they’re given. If you can’t trust them next to you in a foxhole, you aren’t going to trust them in general. I feel like I can’t name one person because this is absolutely a toss up, also I feel like as time goes on you can trust more of the older fellas and less replacements. 

Who I Ship You With: DICK WINTERS. That probably goes without saying but you need a gentle leadership role in your life to steer you clear of stuff (also he’d laugh at your jokes and your shenanigans, maybe even participate). But also just a good, pure soul? Like he always has the best intentions for you and you can absolutely trust him. The only problem is that you’re more emotional than him so you’ll constantly be trying to get him to tALK. ABOUT ANYTHING. 

Wildcard: Battalion Staff S-2. Easy Company. Where else would you put your snark to use? Gotta boss people around duh, especially Winters.

Lil Blurb: You were about the damned best tactician and planner the battalion had. You were also a woman, but one of Sink’s favorites when it came to collaborating on battle plans. Thanks to your father, you knew your stuff. That meant that you were given an exception given to no other woman in the entirety of the war. It also meant that most of the rest of the staff hated your guts, and thus you kept to yourself unless formally requested. You traveled, ate, and lived with the men, but you were an unfortunate lesser. You hated it. It pissed you off, but you had also come to accept it.

The frustration from being treated as such built up rather quickly, and you spent a lovely evening after the events at the Dutch dike by yourself with a bottle of French wine you’d scrounged up with luck. On a hill overlooking the countryside, you pour yourself a glass of the lovely white wine and hope the alcohol puts you to sleep. You tell yourself that you aren’t sulking–you need time alone after the chaos of the week beforehand. Nixon was one of the few that constantly had your back, but even then sometimes you wondered if it was just because he liked the fact that you were a woman and nothing else. 

“Hey, boss lady.” The familiar voice of Bill Guarnere reaches your eyes and you look up at him, a brow furrowed. “Ma’am will do,” you correct firmly, a slight roll of your eyes following. There’s a twinkle in Guarnere’s eyes and his slack-jawed smile widens into a grin. “It ain’t right to drink alone. Winter’s is probably all alone with those drunk bastards, you better go see what you can do before he gets too overwhelmed.” There’s something about Guarnere’s tone that tells you he is, for once, approaching you as an ally. “I swear he’s a Quaker. He said he wasn’t, but I swear he is,” he insists, motioning for you to get up.

“He’ll have your ass if he catches you spreading that rumor.” You give a short laugh anyway–Winters probably enjoyed the rumor more than anything. You admired the man. He had his head on straight, better than you did anyway. You down the rest of the wine in your glass and toss the bottle into Guarnere’s hands, handing him the glass once he gets a good grip on it. “Enjoy, Sergeant, and you had best not be hungover in the morning.”