[b]March 12th, 2014
Women's Barracks, Shattered Steel HQ
Malta, The Mediterranean [/b]

Fuka had no idea what to think about Myk, the too-young and too-emotional little guy with the Russia-sized chip on his shoulder. The consideration of her spirit animal was interrupted by the sound of sobbing over the comms, the veteran unused to overt displays of emotion in the field and now very sure that she didn't like them. 

So she shut her mouth for the moment and listened to the others jabber, watching Circus show off and pondering a question that seemed symbolic of her new career:

[i]What kind of outfit is this?[/i]

She found normalcy in Malta for a moment, setting down her gear and grabbing a bunk like she had done so many times in so many bases. There had been a time in her life when she would get homesick, but that was long gone. Nowadays she felt weird if she stayed in one bed for too long! Always on the go, always on the move, flying her to do something for Shattered Steel and then flying back to the States to talk to the docs about her arm, back to Shattered Steel and then every once in a while onwards to Arizona or Japan to visit some relative or another. 

The sense of not owning your living space became normal, and Fuka had grown accustomed to the sterile nature of barracks life. 

Now that it was after hours she had changed from her work gear to sweatpants and an undershirt, lying in her bunk with her datapad charging nearby. She had just fallen into a catnap after skimming personnel files when emotion again invaded her sanctuary, the Valkyrie storming in like a typhoon crashing against the coast. 

The crash of a fist against metal shattered Fuka's light doze, training and experience shaking her from Rest into Fight. She was reaching for her pistol before she was even really awake, and it was only once she registered Freyja as the intruder that she let it remain in her bag.

"Goddamn girl, are you okay?"

Fuka wasn't the only one disturbed; the other Steel women in the bunkhouse had heard and seen the commotion. Questions bubbled up in a variety of languages, and to top it off Wunderkind had to start spouting off at the door:  

[i] You're not allowed to get yourself bent out of shape till you save more lives than you've killed [/i]

So that was what this was about. Christ. 

"Valk take a breath, please." She pleaded, padding for the door. "The rest of you mind your business."

And for the visitor at the door-

"Mykhailo, thanks for bringing food. Maybe don't announce people's business at the threshold like you're our town crier?" 

Her voice was a low hiss so that only he could hear, her flesh and blood hand gesturing for the tray. 

"And next time you need to get something over to this side, ask someone to take it. Do me a favor and don't show up to the women's barracks unannounced." 

You met a lot of unrepentant horndogs in the military; it came with being surrounded by people barely in their twenties. Myk was very quickly exhausting her patience. Hitting on her in their first meeting was funny. Trying his luck with Freyja on the flight was immature. Taking it upon himself to bring Freyja her dinner while she just so happened to be in the women's quarters? 

Tone deaf, perverted, take your pick.