PFC Muller & PFC Carn
As the squads unwinded, Emmaline took the time to take a seat down on the grass with her Lance cradled in the crook of her neck. Though, for an armored suit like hers, the most she could really do was squat; last time she fully sat down, she had to ask for help to pull herself back up, since she didn't have a lance to use a crutch.
As she squatted down, Emmaline looked at the mechanic work, before wiping her nose.
"I take it you were a...mechanic, was what they called it? You worked on cars and motors before the war?" She asked.
*Booong*
Being addressed unexpectedly surprised Evan (who had ducked under some of the cage armour to inspect the bolts), and he bashed his head off one of the metal struts. "Gah! Ow... Ya startled me there, Muller." Evan sheepishly rubbed his head as the strut resonated loudly. "Yea, I was a mechanic. Owned one of the better garages in Randgrize, if I do say so myself." He thumped his chest with pride. "Turns out the militia's more in need of drivers than mechanics, though. Damn shame, really. Woulda loved to work on one of the proper tanks." Evan shrugged before returning the question. "And what about you, blondie? You have a job before the war? Schooling? Anythin'?"
A young girl like her might not (and was not expected to) have a job at her age, but female lancers were certainly the minority, and something about her set her apart from the pack. Maybe it was the barbell workout Evan had seen her doing when he first picked her up. Not many normal women were into weight training.
Emmaline scratched her head and gently kicked at the dirt.
"Um...I was a farmer. Had to do the work all myself when I got married off to an incompetent man. My sister did schooling while I made the money around the farm, whatnot with managing the laborers, divvying up the payment, though...nevermind. They should be closer to the capital by another hamlet, or perhaps the capital...I hope.
I'm surprised you're not a lancer yourself, being a technician and all. Would've been nice to give the tanks something to fear."
"Ah, a farmer eh? I guess I can sort of see that..." Evan sort of stood there awkwardly when PFC Muller started discussing her unhappy (and seemingly unwilling) marriage, though when she spoke about her sister and their labourers, he remarked: "Well most of the outlying farms have evacuated, right? Your sis should be safe." The comment about being a lancer mad him chuckle a bit.
"Yeah, no, that's not gonna happen. I can barely hit a target with a rifle, what the hell am I gonna do with the equivalent of a weaponized barbell? Besides, I'm not gettin any younger and it's hard to move in all that armour. 'Least being a driver means that I don't have to be dodgin bullets with the rest of you unlucky sods." Evan closed an eye and smiled as he made a light hearted jab at the infantry.
"But whatever. What do you think of the darcsen, by the way?" A moment later, he realized that there were several darcsens in the squad, so he clarified. "I mean our sergeant. What do you think about the way the squad's being run?"
Emmaline shrugged at the question.
"Darcsens, in general? I haven't had enough money to start any pay raises, so...I don't really care. I can't really care, as a matter of fact. Maybe if I was born urbane and sophisticated...hehe, I like those words...maybe I'd love to hate them, but it's not like I need an accountant or a scholar on the farm. If the Darcsens do what they're told, they're as good as anything we can come by these days.
And as for the squad leader?"
She paused as she took off the slab of metal on her shoulder, before turning her back to older man.
"Mind if you can take this off for me? You could wear the plates for a bit and try out for yourself."
"Yeah, I guess labour is labour."
He hesitated when Muller asked him to help her removing her armour.
"Ya sure you should be undressing at a time like this? We are on a mission you know, girly... ah whatever, the Darcsen's probably gonna take a while. Might as well relax when we can." A few minutes of fumbling with straps later, and Evan had helped Muller remove the largest of her armoured plates. Mostly the ones on the shoulders and legs, though, since anything else would be getting faaaar too personal. He stacked them in a heap beside her.
"Don't think I'll be trying on any of this, though. Doubt it would fit, and I hate armour. Too damn bulky and heavy."
"We've already gone this far; I'm not taking off my gear just to hear a man whine about putting these on..."
As Evan had helped her take off the armor, so Emmaline does to him to help put on the plating. For his size, the paldrons fit him more comfortably than on her, largely due to the fact that he could actually fill the spaces between his flesh and the plates. After taking a step back and leaning forwards, she looks up and down the older man, before giving an approving smile.
"A little tight, but it wouldn't be too hard to imagine someone loosening a buckle here or there. You look good."
As she said this, she swept a lock of her hair away and rustled her sleeves to let the air cool down the sweat.
"Not as heavy as you thought, isn't it?"
Actually yes it was... Evan took a few experimental steps around, but even at this pace the armour made him feel sluggish. He was slow and heavy and the freedom of motion in his arms and legs were severely limited. Of course this (of all times) was when an itch sprang up in his lower back.
"Yes, yes it is... It's heavy and hot and I can't reach my damn back."
Needless to say, Evan was less than pleased to be playing dress up at the moment. He twisted and stretched, trying to reach the itch, but to no avail. The armour kept getting in the way. He tried unbuckling one of the fastening straps to begin removing the armour, but found that he could not do even that. Shooting Muller a defeated look, he sighed and said: "Alright. Now. The armour. Please. Help me get out of this damn tin can of a uniform."
He briefly entertained the thought of borrowing one of the shocktrooper's combat knives to cut himself free but his better judgment prevailed. Besides, now that he'd 'humored' her, Muller would help him get out of this anyways.
... Right?
"Alright, alright..."
Emmaline undoes the belt buckles for the pauldrons and shin guards, and lets them drop to the floor as she unexpectedly rakes his back with her fingernails.
"Never met a babe or man, or even animal, for that matter, that wouldn't like a good scratch every now and then," she explained, as if it were the most natural thing to scratch another man's back. "Your certainly not the first I've done this to, if it helps you feel any less special. I'm a married woman, and I certainly have even larger priorities than even matrimony."
With that, she finished with a hard slap on the mechanic's back, before putting on the armor again. Shin guards first, smaller pauldron second, inclusive blast shield third...
And there she was : battle ready without any assistance, and as strangely masculine as ever.
"Eh, alright then..." Suddenly getting scratched on the back by a squad member (a woman no less) made Evan feel surprisingly awkward. He just sort of stood there stiffly until she finished. Despite his advanced age and her reassurances, it still was odd. "Well thanks for the scratch, Muller." As she armoured up again, Evan heard the bane of his existence yelling orders for the squad to rally up. "Darcsen's yellin again... Guess we'd better see what he's gotta say."
He cocked his head when he saw Emmaline fully armoured. Something about her appearance seemed odd. Evan opened his mouth to say something about it, before quickly thinking better of it. "Alright then! Let's rendezvous with the squad, shall we?"
Emmaline nodded in agreement, before making her way back with one last suggestion in mind.
"Tell me about your family next time we rest, alright?"
Before he could answer, she was already up ahead.
