(Untitled)

[navyafterone]

James is bulkier than usual as he enters the bar, with body armour under a tracksuit and beige overalls over the top with LUTON SECURITY across his back

Comments

[i_heart_winona]

"Kids these days." Said the man on the stool near him, head buried in a newspaper from Florida, cup of coffee nearby. "Language language."

Pot, kettle. :|

[navyafterone]

James looks at the man flatly over his coffee.

"Would you rather I picked another to swear in?"

[i_heart_winona]

"That'd be interesting. I know a few curse words in alien language myself." John eyed him over the paper. "Frelling greebols and all that."

John is not cra--wait. Nevermind.

[navyafterone]

"...I dunno any alien languages," James admits, grudgingly impressed. "Just Russian and Spanish. I can swear in French, Arabic and Cantonese, though."

[hands_of_blu]

The boy gets a mildly curious look; while the Medic is used to working with people just about James' age, they're usually employed more for their speed and agility, and so don't get body armor.

Come to think of it, nobody gets body armor, except maybe the Pyro.

Anyway.

[navyafterone]

The armour -- not to mention the ridiculous number of layers on top -- has been annoying James all afternoon. He makes a face as he tugs at the overalls. But there's no point changing -- he's got to go back out there after this impromptu coffee break.

"...work experience," he offers with a shrug, noticing the look.

[hands_of_blu]

"Doing vot? You look a bit young to be operating a mine detector."

He's just guessing, mind. That much padding and that much clothing sort of implies a lot of damage is implicit in whatever he's doing for a job, is all.

[navyafterone]

"A what?"

James eyes the man, bemused.

"That what you do? No, workin' security."

It's a lie, of course, but he's trained to lie.