Tagalong
Sarge sighed, staring at the blank sheet of paper before him. The figure that stood adjacent to his sitting figure copied the gesture, accompanied by the soft tick of hidden mechanics.
"I jus' don't know what to say," the blonde murmured, looking over his shoulder to the greyed face of his friend. Lopez gave Levin a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
"It's just a temporary thing. We're not going to leave forever, you know," the mechanized Spartan replied, moving to pull up an extra chair, sharing the desk with Sarge. He too was at a loss for words. How could one just up and say that they were leaving for the good of the Gulch. Well, supposed good, at least.
"Here," Lopez muttered, taking the pen and paper away for a moment and jotting something down. "That should be a good opening. It can't be anything too long or complicated. Small minds, you know." Lopez grinned as he got an elbow in his side.
"They ain't small-minded. They'll understand. It's just I hope the ol' Captain can handle them. Friggin' Simmons... runnin' off... but I guess it'll be alright. Ah.. here." Levin wrote something as well, and Lopez squinted at the squiggly lines that made up letters.
"Mmm, that's good. Showing your underbelly, aren't you," the Latino prodded, and Levin gave him a fangy grin. The blonde continued to write, caught up in the moment, and Lopez stood, leaving him to his business.
"I'm showing some humanity, Pez. Ain't no use havin' it if I don't use it."