#thread: conversations

Florida, when you'd been sent out on what should've been a simple grab-and-go mission, you hadn't expected that you'd be stranded planetside for hours while waiting for evac.

Sure, the Insurrectionists had somehow managed to block your communications with Command, but that was right after you'd called to rendezvous at the LZ and received confirmation that you'd be picked up shortly. It shouldn't have changed anything.

That was also two hours ago, and you've given up on trying to get your radio fixed.

Normally, something like this wouldn't ruffle you in the slightest. You've been stuck waiting for evac before, and you've had something like this happen before. It's no worry. In fact, you know it's more than likely that another team had been sent to take whatever's blocking your comms in order to give those aboard the Mother of Invention a better idea of where you're at.

Of course, normally, you'd be sitting here with Wyoming rather than Agent Maine. It's not that you dislike the larger Freelancer: You're quite fond of him, truly, and you value his cameraderie greatly, even if you sometimes feel that he doesn't quite return the sentiment. It's simply that Maine is quite a bit quieter than Wyoming, and it's hard to hold a conversation with somebody who only responds with the occasional grunt or shrug.

Two hours is a long time to try to make do with small talk, though, and you're not sure that Maine has ever really appreciated your jokes, so you opted to lapse into silence about thirty minutes ago. Ten minutes ago, you began to dismantle the MA5K Carbine that serves as your primary firearm, setting the pieces on the ground where you sit before reassembling it. You do this three times before getting bored and setting it aside.

Pull your helmet off, Florida, and lean your head back against the concrete wall you've been leaning against. Sigh loudly.

Turn your gaze to Maine. Put on your friendliest smile.