Flowers padded through the grass and dirt, on his way to the blue's base. Would anyone remember him? He hoped so- He could never forget the men under him
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Flowers let him go, satisfied for now. "Well as long as you're being truthful to yourself and others, you're good in my book. And it's good to see somebody so reliable such as yourself. I'm glad you're part of our team." He couldn't really remember if he'd said that or not. Oh well, better safe than sorry. "Now, can I get you something to drink to calm your nerves?"
"Thank you. Always here for the team!" Simmons says, giving it everything he can. "And a coffee would be good - no, hang on, I'll make it, you don't have to, it's not your job..."
"No no no, it's fine. It's not your job either." He smiled to himself as he went about his business, fixing Simmons a cup of the dark liquid. There wasn't many options when considering how to fix the stuff. So Flowers just went with what his gut told him, and fixed it. "Here you go." Flowers said as he handed the cup to the private.
"Thank you, sir," Simmons said, slipping back to his old habit. He put the cup on the table for a moment, and put his helmet down next to it before taking a sip with every sign of enjoying it. While the situation still felt a bit strange, he was at least starting to relax a hint.
Flowers decided he'd let it slip that once, happy that Simmons looked like he enjoyed the beverage. "It's no problem, really. Just glad that I can do something. I feel I owe it to the team since I've been gone so long." He sighed. Really, he did feel bad about leaving them. But when you die, what can you do?
"If you were... you couldn't help it, sir. I think you might have picked a good time to come back, really." Simmons laughed slightly before taking another sip of coffee. "I don't know what you've been told, but it's been... rather hectic," he said, diplomatically as he could.
Flowers nods, having been told a summary of the happenings by Church. "Yes, Church told me. It's... a rather lot to take in all at once. I heard we have a tank now?" He was rather interested in learning this. If the cease-fire ever ended, it could prove useful.
Simmons smiled. "Yes, Sheila." He couldn't quite keep the affection out of his voice, and suddenly hoped that Flowers doesn't take it as anything out of the ordinary. "She's... She's been here quite some time, really."
"Is that her name, Sheila? Sounds like a classy lady." Flowers said, a little warily. "How long has she been here? She wasn't here when I.. uh, died. So I'm assuming after?" Did they name her Sheila? Or, did she have an AI? Flowers mentally macked himself. He was just confusing himself with all his questions. The privates would tell him when they were ready. He wouldn't rush them. Or maybe he would ask them when he himself was ready? Oh bother. He'd already confused himself.
"She is. Believe me, she is." Simmons paused, hoping it sounded alright. "And she must have arrived since then, sir, yes." Simmons thought for a bit. "A few months, I think, off the top of my head. It's been rather hard to keep track of time," he said, feeling like he'd never made a bigger understatement in his life.
"I'm sorry, I haven't had much luck with women so..." he ended his sentence with a chuckle, not really knowing what else to say to that. It was the truth at least. "Ah, I see. Can't believe I missed out on something like that." Really, a tank? He didn't think Church or Tucker were tank certified... so who drove it? Wait. No. Her. Man, it was going to take some time to get used to having a weapon that had a gender. And according to Simmons, a personality.
Simmons laughed. "Yeah, she's something, alright," he said, his voice warm. "I think she'll be glad to meet you, too." He took a long sip of his drink, smiling. "And I'm ...sorry to hear that, sir." It just felt more comfortable to stick to the formalities, somehow. Even if the captain was the one making the coffee.
He smiled slightly. "I can't wait to meet her. Maybe later, after I've had a rest or something like that." He sighed. A nap was really sounding good right now, but it could wait. "It's fine, wasn't your fault. It just wasn't meant to be. So, uhm, what's the other team like?"
"Sure," he said, giving Flowers a nod. "And the Reds... what a bunch of dirtbags! Ah, hell, I can't do it, sir. Sorry." For a moment, Simmons stared into his coffee cup, as if willing it to give him the answers instead. "The Reds." He paused again. "Well, there's four of 'em at the moment. Donut's kinda... well, he's a bit - flamboyant, but he's a good guy. He's second in command. Grif's lazy as hell, but he's, well, at least he's got a bit of common sense. We were friends. And Lopez, he's a robot, his speech settings got a bit chewed up and stuck on Spanish so you never know what the hell he's going on about..."
Flowers almost rolled his eyes. Almost. "Simmons, you don't have to pretend that you hate them. They were your teammates. It's alright, I'm not one to judge." He smiled. "And... you only mentioned three people that time. I thought you said there were four...?"
"Urgh - I can't help it, sir. It's just... damn. And, yeah. There's four." He stared into the coffee again. "Last one's Sarge. He'd have been there when you were ...around here first time, I think." Trying to get his thoughts straight, he took a sip. "No sense of strategy, it sometimes seems, but he's always coming up with these big plans," he said, looking at the back of his hand for a moment. "And..." He sighed. "I'd have done anything for him if he asked."
"Now, can I get you something to drink to calm your nerves?"
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"Here you go." Flowers said as he handed the cup to the private.
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Damn. Don't make me have to explain, sir.
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Oh bother. He'd already confused himself.
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"Ah, I see. Can't believe I missed out on something like that." Really, a tank? He didn't think Church or Tucker were tank certified... so who drove it? Wait. No. Her. Man, it was going to take some time to get used to having a weapon that had a gender. And according to Simmons, a personality.
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"And I'm ...sorry to hear that, sir." It just felt more comfortable to stick to the formalities, somehow. Even if the captain was the one making the coffee.
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"It's fine, wasn't your fault. It just wasn't meant to be. So, uhm, what's the other team like?"
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For a moment, Simmons stared into his coffee cup, as if willing it to give him the answers instead. "The Reds." He paused again. "Well, there's four of 'em at the moment. Donut's kinda... well, he's a bit - flamboyant, but he's a good guy. He's second in command. Grif's lazy as hell, but he's, well, at least he's got a bit of common sense. We were friends. And Lopez, he's a robot, his speech settings got a bit chewed up and stuck on Spanish so you never know what the hell he's going on about..."
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"Simmons, you don't have to pretend that you hate them. They were your teammates. It's alright, I'm not one to judge." He smiled.
"And... you only mentioned three people that time. I thought you said there were four...?"
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He stared into the coffee again. "Last one's Sarge. He'd have been there when you were ...around here first time, I think." Trying to get his thoughts straight, he took a sip. "No sense of strategy, it sometimes seems, but he's always coming up with these big plans," he said, looking at the back of his hand for a moment. "And..." He sighed. "I'd have done anything for him if he asked."
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