Marcus and his squad were huddled together in the hanger around the carrier they had been brought in on, along with a few other groups of ground grunts. They had just been brought in from a hot territory, and were still all wired slightly with battle born adrenaline. They were all smudged with dirt and grim, sweat and blood, their weapons still held a bit tightly as they looked around at the strange people and ships with something akin to mistrust.
Marcus was no different from the others in this, standing shoulder to shoulder with a squadmate who was shaking his head back and forth over and over, muttering and hugging himself tightly. Marcus seemed to be talking to him, wiping grim from his face with the back of the hand that he held his helmet in. Even as he talked to the other though his eyes were never still, darting around the hanger as if looking for somewhere to hide, to perch, to take cover. And then he caught sight of a familiar purple head.