He did not [i]belong[/i], this Virgil knew all too well, and yet he felt almost as if he were one of them simply by being around them – a sort of 'cultural osmosis' if you will. This was of course a fictitious fancy of his, but made it none the less real for him, even if he did stick out like a sore thumb what with his distinct dialect..his father's old PDF jacket (how much brighter could red be?!)...his Nova Drookian armament and non-regulation hat...indeed, it seemed as if there were frankly no more ways by which he could show that he was [b]not[/b] of Texanis.

Already busy browsing through the Uplifting Primer, a self-taught education and curiosity getting the better of him, he turned to another of the Privates – known as 'Cowboys' or girls within the regiment – and addressed them with a smile “good book, eh?” He chuckled, pausing only to brush a bit of dust from his otherwise perfectly crisp jacket shoulder, “at least we all know what this conflicts going to be aboat.”

He listened carefully to the words of the apparently more experienced, or at least more opinionated, Clayton Robert and was more-or-less unable to understand anything but each other word. It was clear however that he held the 'Tau' in very low regard, and exclaimed in a most Texanis-like manner indeed. Next to speak aloud was the representative of the Progenium, a Junior-Commissar by the look of his uniform markings, but also just as youthful as Virgil; how that was possible he did not know, but much like Clayton he seemed to know his stuff pretty well.

“If I'm not mistaken, they already got to some humans a while back... I trust I won't need to deal with anyone fallin' prey to their lies in THIS squad, of course.”

Waiting respectfully for the Commissariat officer to finish his explanation, Virgil piped up with his own oddly specific knowledge, “the Tau call their human helpers '[i]Gue'vesa[/i]', auxiliary soldiers from Tau dominated worlds, the brainwashed slaves adhering to what the Tau call the '[i]Tau'va[/i]' or 'Greater Good' – their primarily held belief system that a utopian society can be crafted from the unification of multiple species and states each working toward a fundamental and consummate goal...” his eyes averted from all others for a moment, a cloth appearing in one hand as he began to polish the barrel of his Nooslar rifle for the fiftieth time, “...or that's what I've heard anyway.”