On the opposite side of the table, an orange helmet is set down. Following suit, a man in a matching-colored clothes collapses down onto the bench, clearly having just come in from the hangar - he hadn't even bothered to remove his spacesuit yet.
"Do you ever even use that rifle, Lockon?" the young pilot grumbles before settling his face into his arms with a long sigh. "And why does Miss Sumeragi insist on sending a familiar face only after I've been sent off to run recon for the Ptolemios?"
"Hah, that's the truth," he murmured, raising his head enough to meet his friend's gaze. "What's it been now, almost nine months since I first left for the Chalice?"
Well well, who's this fancy dres- Oh it's that guy!
"Are you certain you want to be doing that in the mess hall? There's quite a few children working in the kitchen." Children that knew how to operate firearms as well. "It would be terrible for someone to lose one of the pieces."
"Much as it may seem, it really isn't. This ship isn't affiliated, specifically, with any known government or military. They're simply... an independent force who's very good at making friends."
Hixar met his gaze through the barrel. "Now now, it's not nice to point." he said with a blatant chuckle.
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"Do you ever even use that rifle, Lockon?" the young pilot grumbles before settling his face into his arms with a long sigh. "And why does Miss Sumeragi insist on sending a familiar face only after I've been sent off to run recon for the Ptolemios?"
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"Are you certain you want to be doing that in the mess hall? There's quite a few children working in the kitchen." Children that knew how to operate firearms as well. "It would be terrible for someone to lose one of the pieces."
And look... NO RED HARO AROUND!
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Hixar met his gaze through the barrel. "Now now, it's not nice to point." he said with a blatant chuckle.
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