On a normal day, Safi would tell you that eavesdropping is not his specialty. This was not a normal day, however, as for a man who had spent the majority of his life shooting at whatever the Galaxy had to offer, sitting in this… admittedly cozy bar and quietly sipping his drink was definitely unusual. And the situation was forcing Safi to explore his hidden depths, and learn just how capable he was at lending an ear to other people’s conversations. He would find out, as the conversation continued, that for a man whose eardrums were burst multiple times in the past to krak grenades, he was good at following a regular conversation, and not just barking orders. Interestingly enough, they were talking about the Imperial Guard. Something about how the average life expectancy of a Guardsman was only fifteen hours.

It made Safi stop and think for a moment, as he looked down, eyeing the eggs and bacon in front of him on the table. ‘’[i]30 years is… how many hours?[/i]’’ He thought for a moment. He wasn’t a math guy. He couldn’t be bothered with calculating that. He quickly switched the topic to something more pragmatic. ‘’[i]Did I eat any of this?[/i]’’ Safi wondered as he took another sip of his Ginvict, eyes still fixed on the dish in front of him. One strip of bacon was half eaten, so he assumed that he had taken at least a bite. He was hungry, and it looked better than what he had eaten for three decades. Putting down his cup, he grabbed the fork and took a greedy piece out of the meal standing in front of him. The scrambled eggs were fatalistic and simply slumped themselves on the fork, while a defiant strip of bacon was trying to free itself from the fork. Safi did not let it go. Following this first strike, Safi decided to follow up and finished his meal in about two minutes. Finishing his remaining Ginvict in a single sip, Safi left the bar. 

For Safi, this Outpost was absolutely horrible. Whores, druggies, fags, thieves, all sorts of scum populated this place. Back when he was young, in the Planetary Defense Force, at least he could clean them out. But he was far away from ‘home’, and last he had seen it, it was a desolate ruin littered with literally millions of corpses. Deep down, Safi knew that he actually didn’t care about the scum around him. There was, somewhere in the Galaxy, a planet-sized mass of an alien hive mind, eating god knows how many humans, or anything else, right now. A man keeping himself intoxicated to forget how miserable his life is deserved no hate – he was irrelevant. Safi could, in fact, relate. A few years back, after his tour of duty, he had gone through the same things. Nowadays, he just tried not to think deeply about it. 

He noticed a burly, leather clad punk fighting a bunch of thugs in an alleyway as he walked by. Halting his steps, he watched as the fellow, who seemed like he had participated in his fair share of battles, first fell, but eventually got the upper hand and started breaking bones. Safi guessed he’d win from then on and continued on his way to his admittedly expensive quarters, in a more respectable part of the Outpost – Safi liked to see the sun rise and set, as it gave him some comfort. High above him, the ship of a Rogue Trader had entered orbit. On a distant planet, a man who had once served alongside Safi commit suicide via a laspistol shot to the head upon witnessing a horde of Demons overwhelm his trench, and kill his men. Far beyond that, an immeasurably numerous host of eldritch horrors plotted to destroy all life. But Safi tried not to think about it. Instead, he clung onto the taste of eggs and bacon in his mouth, and hoped that he could get a nice view of the sky from the reinforced glass pane that covered the side of his quarters. He could not think of much better in life.