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[southphillysob]

What Bill Guarnere has to say about Captain Herbert Sobel does not bear repeating in any sort of decent society -- and we really have a broad definition of "decent"; the curses this guy knows can melt your ears off. Think, think, to think of giving out goddamn latrine duty because someone else in his squad didn't have the juice to beat fifty

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[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Of course, that relies on being able to recognize honest Italian when you see it. The young woman sitting nearby who glances up at the new arrival has a bowl of... well, not so much noodles with ketchup as noodles with some kind of bland-looking sauce, maybe based on margarine or something, and Spam.

You don't mind if she sort of stares a little, do you? She hasn't actually seen an Army uniform anywhere but very old history vids before this.

[southphillysob]

The army loves its goddamn Spam. Bill's used to the cuisine in a perfunctory sense -- hell, his ma sent him to the Civilian Conservation Corps three summers when he was younger, he can hack this -- but the whole thing the broad's eating just curdles his stomach on principle.

"Christ on a cracker, the hell is that stuff?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Standard issue back home, sir," says Ellen. "I still had a couple of ration coupons from Vault 101 in my pocket when I got in here, and this is pretty much what I grew up on in the way of lunch."

She's wearing a dusty blue-and-gold jumpsuit and a pair of black boots, along these lines. The body armor she'd had on over it when she was trying to find her way out of Springvale just didn't seem like a good idea to wear into a saloon, so it's stuffed in her knapsack, out of sight under the table.

[southphillysob]

Bill looks over the whole setup with an infinitely eloquent expression of supreme skepticism.

"Jesus. Don'tcha know there's better at this joint than that? Kid, have a burger or somethin'. Live a little."