Jeep Wrangler

RETRO Slice of Life - 1988

Oh hey, I remember Sol City. It was a way different time back then, but interesting to see another one like it. I’m gonna throw in my interest for this one as well.

@Conscripts

hey have we met before?

RETRO Slice of Life - 1988

---

Sidney Sharpe

---

___________________________________ Sidney Thomas Sharpe, 27 ________________________________________________________________________________________ Haddington, Scotland | Absolutely not from Delta City | ___________________________________ [+] ▼ E X T R A I N F O R M A T I O N ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► DOB - 22/09/1961 ► Height - 5'11" / 181cm ► Weight - 169 lbs / 77.8kg ► Hair Color - Blackish-Brown ► Eye Color - Amber ► Occupation - Freelance / Newspaper-leased Photographer ► Zodiac Sign - Virgo -

D E T A I L E D A P P E A R A N C E Sidney, or Sid, is quite a lean-looking individual. He's not a skeleton by any means but he hasn't the thickest of builds. It bothers him very little, he's of a healthy weight and has the energy in him to go at his job for hours on end. The energetic side of him isn't reflected in the somewhat lazily kept blackish-brown hair upon his scalp. But at the very least, he isn't the type to look too scruffy, fashion and natural features in mind. On the contrary, his facial hair at least seems pretty well-trimmed. On the topic of fashion, Sid has an affinity for very bland clothing. Plain drab button shirts, with a little single-colour jacket or the occasional coloured puffer vest, of which je promises it wasn't another Marty McFly-inspired sign of the times. No, he's quite adamant that he got there first. Other than that, his profession has never required anything more than presentable casual-wear. Sure, a tie for the occasional meeting with someone important, but a full-piece suit is a hard fit for his wardrobe. Occasionally, a more homely UK/European brand comes and goes on his apparel, but with the least-flashy clothes on the market, it can't exactly be that easy to tell the difference.

---_{P E R S O N A L I T Y}

If there's one thing certain about Sidney, it's that opportunism pays the bigger bills. The odd vacancy and uncertain income has made for a reluctantly adventurous individual, who - in dire times - is willing to plunge his photographic skills into different industries. Stress is all but natural to the job, but he persists with an energetic press onwards through life. He wouldn't describe himself as competitive, but if it means getting a second chance to keep at what he does, then it's not an entirely incorrect perception of his on-site work ethic. Then again, he does at least try to keep his ego far at bay, not that there's too much of it to begin with in the professional scene.

And what is he like outside of the Delta City Times cutthroat hours on capturing the next headline in film? Well, it's quite relaxed. He enjoys the sort of quiet moments when he can, but he was never impartial to the lively scene of Delta's music limelight, or even the lesser known street motorsports that make light on the rarity. Always a spectator, though. To be a participant can sometimes require a nudge and pinch from the odd acquaintance or friend, but it's never like he regrets it too much - so long as no harm comes to himself. Then again, he can't help but feel a little disheartened by his occasional financial struggles. The cheap apartment and bikeless motorcycle license keeps him in that needless desire to try and succeed. And with that comes friends, making the right and wrong calls on the people around him. He's an outsider by blood, for sure, but to maintain connections is always a point of interest. The odd cheek and jabs of a friendly lad has given the wrong impression before, but at least with his faded accent he doesn't suffer from communication efforts, allowing for him to socialise comfortably with others.

---_{L I K E S & D I S L I K E S}

---Likes:

► Some cheeky spectating
► Motorcycles
► Nature Walks
► Travelling
► Review Writing
► Night life
► Actually being able to afford rent

---Dislikes:

► Controlled environments
► City inaccessibility
► Those people who always start with "you have an accent, don't you?"
► Being static
► Cluttered spaces
► The god-forsaken heat
► Spicy foods
► Being unable to afford rent, again

---_{B I O G R A P H Y}

Come the age of boredom, birth and infancy. Sidney Thomas Sharpe was raised in the town of Haddington, over the pond, off to the East of the much more recognisable Edinburgh. Was a quiet life, so to speak. A mum from Hertfordshire, southern-english bred, and a father from the very town itself - all things were as sweet and sound as they could be. For the first half, he was just a boy who took to the streets after school to avoid the odd detention from the headmaster, but it wasn't until his family was gifted a 1972 Olympus OM-1 camera that the budding personality was caught between white still frames. At first it was just a nice techy-addition to the Sharpe's, but when his mother grew less protective of it four years later, Sid found himself able to sneak off away to capture all the moments he could, until the film ran out of course. It was a great commodity for the local area, and on the rare months when he got more film, be it on a blizzardly Christmas morning or family gathering, he became far more interested in capturing the aesthetics of the world, rather than just battling his mates for the cheesiest pose.

Sid's passion had come into full fruition by the age of sixteen; the blossom of all things characterised. The liberation of an enthusiastic parent at least guided his passion onward, and he kept the camera going, even so far as to scrounge together change for repairs if it lost its way, until the lifespan ended with his rather expensive venture: and off he went, in 1980, to the Melbourne Photography Studies College, all the way on the other side of the globe. To his luck, the career professions of his parents were enough to see him escape the stone homes of his lovely town to the most blistering heats he'd ever known. And there he studied, furthering his desire to be a photographer in the brutal game of life. He never quite achieved top of his class, but in witnessing Australia's prime photographers achieve respected awards, he grew to understand the grandiose potential of riding the tide to success.

He ended his education pretty anti-climactically, but it soon picked up when a fellow classmate, Roger, asked if he wanted to take the plunge towards the states for the opportunities of a lifetime: freelance photography in the cities of lights, skyscrapers and business. And that very decision took him to the gates of Delta City, where the at the bottom-life began. They rented out a criminally cheap apartment, not to say it was of much quality, and made their days' earnings by offering their services to small companies, assisting in advertisement campaigns and on the one occasion, a single submission to the Delta City Times. Now, Roger eventually cut his losses after stringing himself up with the worse crowds available, and without so much of a word he hightailed it to another state, where whether he remained in country or not was a mystery. This left a now lonely Sidney to take on 1985 on his own, and though he suffered dearly, by 1986, he at least gave himself some security when he took on a job at the Delta City Times, one in which he was temporarily fired from until being rehired in 1987. It took him to the street races for photos on freelance duty, to the scenes of criminal aftermaths and before several celebrities, yet he felt the pressure of a high demand weigh him down. And without much of a trusting social circle, he set his eyes on a contingency plan should the Delta City Times drop him on another dime.

---_{S P E C I A L T A L E N T}

The Fly on the Wall: Time behind the camera can be a lonesome exercise. Sure you meet a lot of people, but he's never found the ones who stick around enough to become a part of his life, for better or for worse. At the least, he's a perceptive lad with a knack for artistic photographic detail. Maybe it's pretentious, yet he doesn't big himself up as being so.

---_{F A M I L Y}

► Benjamin Sharpe (Father - Passed Away in 1987)
► Herman Charpentier (Mother)

---_{R E L A T I O N S}

To be updated as RP develops

---_{F A V O U R I T E S O N G}

---_{C S 2 | P.I.S.}

Player Interaction Scale

Sitting around a nice, comfortable:

3.

---

-A Template by Load Wraith

About the Player:

► Age: 20
► Where in the world: England
► How many years writing/roleplaying: Nine years (I got an early start)
► How often can I post: Usually once or twice a week, but uni tends to fluctuate that availability a bit.
► Anything else: I'm a university student first and foremost, but I published a novel recently so that's fun. Do some music shindigs on the side, quite a lot of bass, bit of synth too.

RETRO Slice of Life - 1988

@PrinceAlexusDon't we need to wait for one more review?

RETRO Slice of Life - 1988

Managed to get it done tonight! Lemme know if there's anything wrong or in dire need of changing!

---

Sidney Sharpe

---

___________________________________ Sidney Thomas Sharpe, 27 ________________________________________________________________________________________ Haddington, Scotland | Absolutely not from Delta City | ___________________________________ [+] ▼ E X T R A I N F O R M A T I O N ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► DOB - 22/09/1961 ► Height - 5'11" / 181cm ► Weight - 169 lbs / 77.8kg ► Hair Color - Blackish-Brown ► Eye Color - Amber ► Occupation - Freelance / Newspaper-leased Photographer ► Zodiac Sign - Virgo -

D E T A I L E D A P P E A R A N C E Sidney, or Sid, is quite a lean-looking individual. He's not a skeleton by any means but he hasn't the thickest of builds. It bothers him very little, he's of a healthy weight and has the energy in him to go at his job for hours on end. The energetic side of him isn't reflected in the somewhat lazily kept blackish-brown hair upon his scalp. But at the very least, he isn't the type to look too scruffy, fashion and natural features in mind. On the contrary, his facial hair at least seems pretty well-trimmed. On the topic of fashion, Sid has an affinity for very bland clothing. Plain drab button shirts, with a little single-colour jacket or the occasional coloured puffer vest, of which je promises it wasn't another Marty McFly-inspired sign of the times. No, he's quite adamant that he got there first. Other than that, his profession has never required anything more than presentable casual-wear. Sure, a tie for the occasional meeting with someone important, but a full-piece suit is a hard fit for his wardrobe. Occasionally, a more homely UK/European brand comes and goes on his apparel, but with the least-flashy clothes on the market, it can't exactly be that easy to tell the difference.

---_{P E R S O N A L I T Y}

If there's one thing certain about Sidney, it's that opportunism pays the bigger bills. The odd vacancy and uncertain income has made for a reluctantly adventurous individual, who - in dire times - is willing to plunge his photographic skills into different industries. Stress is all but natural to the job, but he persists with an energetic press onwards through life. He wouldn't describe himself as competitive, but if it means getting a second chance to keep at what he does, then it's not an entirely incorrect perception of his on-site work ethic. Then again, he does at least try to keep his ego far at bay, not that there's too much of it to begin with in the professional scene.

And what is he like outside of the Delta City Times cutthroat hours on capturing the next headline in film? Well, it's quite relaxed. He enjoys the sort of quiet moments when he can, but he was never impartial to the lively scene of Delta's music limelight, or even the lesser known street motorsports that make light on the rarity. Always a spectator, though. To be a participant can sometimes require a nudge and pinch from the odd acquaintance or friend, but it's never like he regrets it too much - so long as no harm comes to himself. Then again, he can't help but feel a little disheartened by his occasional financial struggles. The cheap apartment and bikeless motorcycle license keeps him in that needless desire to try and succeed. And with that comes friends, making the right and wrong calls on the people around him. He's an outsider by blood, for sure, but to maintain connections is always a point of interest. The odd cheek and jabs of a friendly lad has given the wrong impression before, but at least with his faded accent he doesn't suffer from communication efforts, allowing for him to socialise comfortably with others.

---_{L I K E S & D I S L I K E S}

---Likes:

► Some cheeky spectating
► Motorcycles
► Nature Walks
► Travelling
► Review Writing
► Night life
► Actually being able to afford rent

---Dislikes:

► Controlled environments
► City inaccessibility
► Those people who always start with "you have an accent, don't you?"
► Being static
► Cluttered spaces
► The god-forsaken heat
► Spicy foods
► Being unable to afford rent, again

---_{B I O G R A P H Y}

Come the age of boredom, birth and infancy. Sidney Thomas Sharpe was raised in the town of Haddington, over the pond, off to the East of the much more recognisable Edinburgh. Was a quiet life, so to speak. A mum from Hertfordshire, southern-english bred, and a father from the very town itself - all things were as sweet and sound as they could be. For the first half, he was just a boy who took to the streets after school to avoid the odd detention from the headmaster, but it wasn't until his family was gifted a 1972 Olympus OM-1 camera that the budding personality was caught between white still frames. At first it was just a nice techy-addition to the Sharpe's, but when his mother grew less protective of it four years later, Sid found himself able to sneak off away to capture all the moments he could, until the film ran out of course. It was a great commodity for the local area, and on the rare months when he got more film, be it on a blizzardly Christmas morning or family gathering, he became far more interested in capturing the aesthetics of the world, rather than just battling his mates for the cheesiest pose.

Sid's passion had come into full fruition by the age of sixteen; the blossom of all things characterised. The liberation of an enthusiastic parent at least guided his passion onward, and he kept the camera going, even so far as to scrounge together change for repairs if it lost its way, until the lifespan ended with his rather expensive venture: and off he went, in 1980, to the Melbourne Photography Studies College, all the way on the other side of the globe. To his luck, the career professions of his parents were enough to see him escape the stone homes of his lovely town to the most blistering heats he'd ever known. And there he studied, furthering his desire to be a photographer in the brutal game of life. He never quite achieved top of his class, but in witnessing Australia's prime photographers achieve respected awards, he grew to understand the grandiose potential of riding the tide to success.

He ended his education pretty anti-climactically, but it soon picked up when a fellow classmate, Roger, asked if he wanted to take the plunge towards the states for the opportunities of a lifetime: freelance photography in the cities of lights, skyscrapers and business. And that very decision took him to the gates of Delta City, where the at the bottom-life began. They rented out a criminally cheap apartment, not to say it was of much quality, and made their days' earnings by offering their services to small companies, assisting in advertisement campaigns and on the one occasion, a single submission to the Delta City Times. Now, Roger eventually cut his losses after stringing himself up with the worse crowds available, and without so much of a word he hightailed it to another state, where whether he remained in country or not was a mystery. This left a now lonely Sidney to take on 1985 on his own, and though he suffered dearly, by 1986, he at least gave himself some security when he took on a job at the Delta City Times, one in which he was temporarily fired from until being rehired in 1987. It took him to the street races for photos on freelance duty, to the scenes of criminal aftermaths and before several celebrities, yet he felt the pressure of a high demand weigh him down. And without much of a trusting social circle, he set his eyes on a contingency plan should the Delta City Times drop him on another dime.

---_{S P E C I A L T A L E N T}

The Fly on the Wall: Time behind the camera can be a lonesome exercise. Sure you meet a lot of people, but he's never found the ones who stick around enough to become a part of his life, for better or for worse. At the least, he's a perceptive lad with a knack for artistic photographic detail. Maybe it's pretentious, yet he doesn't big himself up as being so.

---_{F A M I L Y}

► Benjamin Sharpe (Father - Passed Away in 1987)
► Herman Charpentier (Mother)

---_{R E L A T I O N S}

To be updated as RP develops

---_{F A V O U R I T E S O N G}

---_{C S 2 | P.I.S.}

Player Interaction Scale

Sitting around a nice, comfortable:

3.

---

-A Template by Load Wraith

About the Player:

► Age: 20
► Where in the world: England
► How many years writing/roleplaying: Nine years (I got an early start)
► How often can I post: Usually once or twice a week, but uni tends to fluctuate that availability a bit.
► Anything else: I'm a university student first and foremost, but I published a novel recently so that's fun. Do some music shindigs on the side, quite a lot of bass, bit of synth too.

A dumping ground full of lacklustre characters

---

Sidney Sharpe

---

___________________________________ Sidney Thomas Sharpe, 27 ________________________________________________________________________________________ Haddington, Scotland | Absolutely not from Delta City | ___________________________________ [+] ▼ E X T R A I N F O R M A T I O N ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► DOB - 22/09/1961 ► Height - 5'11" / 181cm ► Weight - 169 lbs / 77.8kg ► Hair Color - Blackish-Brown ► Eye Color - Amber ► Occupation - Freelance / Newspaper-leased Photographer ► Zodiac Sign - Virgo -

D E T A I L E D A P P E A R A N C E Sidney, or Sid, is quite a lean-looking individual. He's not a skeleton by any means but he hasn't the thickest of builds. It bothers him very little, he's of a healthy weight and has the energy in him to go at his job for hours on end. The energetic side of him isn't reflected in the somewhat lazily kept blackish-brown hair upon his scalp. But at the very least, he isn't the type to look too scruffy, fashion and natural features in mind. On the contrary, his facial hair at least seems pretty well-trimmed. On the topic of fashion, Sid has an affinity for very bland clothing. Plain drab button shirts, with a little single-colour jacket or the occasional coloured puffer vest, of which je promises it wasn't another Marty McFly-inspired sign of the times. No, he's quite adamant that he got there first. Other than that, his profession has never required anything more than presentable casual-wear. Sure, a tie for the occasional meeting with someone important, but a full-piece suit is a hard fit for his wardrobe. Occasionally, a more homely UK/European brand comes and goes on his apparel, but with the least-flashy clothes on the market, it can't exactly be that easy to tell the difference.

---_{P E R S O N A L I T Y}

If there's one thing certain about Sidney, it's that opportunism pays the bigger bills. The odd vacancy and uncertain income has made for a reluctantly adventurous individual, who - in dire times - is willing to plunge his photographic skills into different industries. Stress is all but natural to the job, but he persists with an energetic press onwards through life. He wouldn't describe himself as competitive, but if it means getting a second chance to keep at what he does, then it's not an entirely incorrect perception of his on-site work ethic. Then again, he does at least try to keep his ego far at bay, not that there's too much of it to begin with in the professional scene.

And what is he like outside of the Delta City Times cutthroat hours on capturing the next headline in film? Well, it's quite relaxed. He enjoys the sort of quiet moments when he can, but he was never impartial to the lively scene of Delta's music limelight, or even the lesser known street motorsports that make light on the rarity. Always a spectator, though. To be a participant can sometimes require a nudge and pinch from the odd acquaintance or friend, but it's never like he regrets it too much - so long as no harm comes to himself. Then again, he can't help but feel a little disheartened by his occasional financial struggles. The cheap apartment and bikeless motorcycle license keeps him in that needless desire to try and succeed. And with that comes friends, making the right and wrong calls on the people around him. He's an outsider by blood, for sure, but to maintain connections is always a point of interest. The odd cheek and jabs of a friendly lad has given the wrong impression before, but at least with his faded accent he doesn't suffer from communication efforts, allowing for him to socialise comfortably with others.

---_{L I K E S & D I S L I K E S}

---Likes:

► Some cheeky spectating
► Motorcycles
► Nature Walks
► Travelling
► Review Writing
► Night life
► Actually being able to afford rent

---Dislikes:

► Controlled environments
► City inaccessibility
► Those people who always start with "you have an accent, don't you?"
► Being static
► Cluttered spaces
► The god-forsaken heat
► Spicy foods
► Being unable to afford rent, again

---_{B I O G R A P H Y}

Come the age of boredom, birth and infancy. Sidney Thomas Sharpe was raised in the town of Haddington, over the pond, off to the East of the much more recognisable Edinburgh. Was a quiet life, so to speak. A mum from Hertfordshire, southern-english bred, and a father from the very town itself - all things were as sweet and sound as they could be. For the first half, he was just a boy who took to the streets after school to avoid the odd detention from the headmaster, but it wasn't until his family was gifted a 1972 Olympus OM-1 camera that the budding personality was caught between white still frames. At first it was just a nice techy-addition to the Sharpe's, but when his mother grew less protective of it four years later, Sid found himself able to sneak off away to capture all the moments he could, until the film ran out of course. It was a great commodity for the local area, and on the rare months when he got more film, be it on a blizzardly Christmas morning or family gathering, he became far more interested in capturing the aesthetics of the world, rather than just battling his mates for the cheesiest pose.

Sid's passion had come into full fruition by the age of sixteen; the blossom of all things characterised. The liberation of an enthusiastic parent at least guided his passion onward, and he kept the camera going, even so far as to scrounge together change for repairs if it lost its way, until the lifespan ended with his rather expensive venture: and off he went, in 1980, to the Melbourne Photography Studies College, all the way on the other side of the globe. To his luck, the career professions of his parents were enough to see him escape the stone homes of his lovely town to the most blistering heats he'd ever known. And there he studied, furthering his desire to be a photographer in the brutal game of life. He never quite achieved top of his class, but in witnessing Australia's prime photographers achieve respected awards, he grew to understand the grandiose potential of riding the tide to success.

He ended his education pretty anti-climactically, but it soon picked up when a fellow classmate, Roger, asked if he wanted to take the plunge towards the states for the opportunities of a lifetime: freelance photography in the cities of lights, skyscrapers and business. And that very decision took him to the gates of Delta City, where the at the bottom-life began. They rented out a criminally cheap apartment, not to say it was of much quality, and made their days' earnings by offering their services to small companies, assisting in advertisement campaigns and on the one occasion, a single submission to the Delta City Times. Now, Max eventually cut his losses after stringing himself up with the worse crowds available, and without so much of a word he hightailed it to another state, where whether he remained in country or not was a mystery. This left a now lonely Sidney to take on 1985 on his own, and though he suffered dearly, by 1986, he at least gave himself some security when he took on a job at the Delta City Times, one in which he was temporarily fired from until being rehired in 1987. It took him to the street races for photos on freelance duty, to the scenes of criminal aftermaths and before several celebrities, yet he felt the pressure of a high demand weigh him down. And without much of a trusting social circle, he set his eyes on a contingency plan should the Delta City Times drop him on another dime.

---_{S P E C I A L T A L E N T}

The Fly on the Wall: Time behind the camera can be a lonesome exercise. Sure you meet a lot of people, but he's never found the ones who stick around enough to become a part of his life, for better or for worse. At the least, he's a perceptive lad with a knack for artistic photographic detail. Maybe it's pretentious, yet he doesn't big himself up as being so.

---_{F A M I L Y}

► Benjamin Sharpe (Father - Passed Away in 1987)
► Herman Charpentier (Mother)

---_{R E L A T I O N S}

To be updated as RP develops

---_{F A V O U R I T E S O N G}

---_{C S 2 | P.I.S.}

Player Interaction Scale

Sitting around a nice, comfortable:

3.

---

-A Template by Load Wraith

About the Player:

► Age: 20
► Where in the world: England
► How many years writing/roleplaying: Nine years (I got an early start)
► How often can I post: Usually once or twice a week, but uni tends to fluctuate that availability a bit.
► Anything else: I'm a university student first and foremost, but I published a novel recently so that's fun. Do some music shindigs on the side, quite a lot of bass, bit of synth too.

sorry yam this is my template mr anderson my template

RETRO Slice of Life - 1988

I shall be eyeing up a CS in the next few days

What Are You Listening To?

80's Retro-Style - Slice of Life

<Snipped quote by LetMeDoStuff>

Link sent.
Welcome to the 80's.

@PrinceAlexus

Happy to be here!

80's Retro-Style - Slice of Life

Hook me up to this machine, I want in.

Still thinking what I want to play as though, I shall await thine discord invite

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard [Pt. 2 - Open] ~

---

<sub>December 30th - Trebin --> Supply Trench Briefing

Heading out with: @FalloutJack@CFProxy@Landaus Five-One@Samakama@TGM</sub>

---

In all honesty, there was something so bright about the way Isaac and Britta talked together; they were a tandem bicycle in motion, moving in continuous cycles between one another until they succeeded in telling a full load of questions, stories and anecdotes in response. They'd achieved that graceful status of a 'young married couple', and the unkept smoothness in their voices made for a somewhat relaxing conversation. Alas, Jean's temper was at its lowest, and even the finest confidence from some of the pair that said, in confidence: "Well let's just get on with it, alright," wasn't quite enough to quench his thirst for melancholy. Jean's revelling in dismay had done him little service that day. Nonetheless, their shine indeed did the job of the sunless sky, and with that he couldn't help but mutter an internal smile, even if he hadn't done so clearly. His huff and puff, with frosted condensation spewing from his lips like ash and plume from an earthly eruption, clouded the faint greyness of his eyes. The Darcsen was tired and hungry. It had become so typical of his place on the battlefield that what was and wasn't in his stomach was an immediate priority. He fumbled with that thought for a moment more; it was a healthy distraction.

Jean then clicked his tongue and looked around. He was given an open request: something from the store? Well, he thought about it long and hard. What could he have that he already didn't? A rifle in his hands, a shrapnel grenade on his rigging and a pack of cheap cigarettes for favours was all that he needed to have gotten by. But he had ever the more lacking that was dug up from desire. And they were nothing more than that: desires. That was why he paid little attention to that which kept him sane.

"If the store could get me one thing, it'd be a sweetheart and a date. Maybe someone like that lost beauty Reyna, or Kalisa. Or - ah, fuck it, first come first serve." He looked over at them and for the slightest second, perhaps due to his distorted view of what actually was, he felt as if he were flashed a concerned glare. Now he could've been entirely wrong for that matter. Britta and Isaac could have smiled the brightest of smiles, or laughed the giddiest of chuckles, but the man himself had seen them as frowns and otherwise glum glances either way. It was just the picture he had painted of the world. He quickly readjusted his tone. "I was - uh - just joking. I mean, I wouldn't complain, but the supply for you probably isn't too good."

Then came the second suggestion, and with his thumbs in his pockets he looked around. It was a kind offer - no, a generous showcase of friendly intent. But the man had to throw it off to the side. He wasn't built for the tools of trade, at least not yet. There was much for him to unlearn before he could, and killing was one of those. Besides...

"Partner? Ah, sorry mate. The only things I provide seems to be," he washed his hands in a flapping motion, mimicking the pen at work, "these poems, here and there. I couldn't get a bâtard to read it even if they wanted to. Brings down the mood, you see?"

Then, the silent nod. From across the supply trench came the wilful command of a tilting neck and brow. Captain Middleton gave him the cheek and brushed their conversation over with a stubborn, and most definitely stern, expression. Time was no longer an ally of the peaceful. They were to head over the top. That was just how things were. And Jean, in his hour, would maintain the heading of the wire party. The honour of those who'd lay would be one Lucia, Diana and Cienie, whilst the rest maintained security and assisted with trimming small sections for the wire to be thoroughly placed. Three layers, it was to be, and the rest would be filled in by mud and rain. Jean had a small amount of additional wiring on hand to frilly up the middle sections with additional clutter, all for the purpose of snaring an advancing platoon's sleeves for the residential gunners to make holes in.

Those who were due to make the raid were given the heads up as well. They were headed off to the dummy trenches for the quickest route in and out, but also to at least mimic the activity of said fool's hideout. The wire party were to make way to the frontline dugouts and to just simply walk over the top, with their bodies clung to the dirt the best they could in order to avoid the marksmen and gunners on station. And during the daylight, with but a thin fog to keep them in cover, it was all too annoying. But it had to be done. Something had to be done about the clearing in the wire gap, for any assault that dawned could have slipped through unopposed if so.

Jean raised a hand and led his group away. Lucia tagged along just barely behind him, with a coil of wire kitted onto her back like a school-bag. It sat on a wooden, splintered platform that had a panel in place for the wearer not to prick themselves. It didn't impede the mobility too much other than its weight of iron barbs waiting for deployment. A few other members, like Jean himself, held additional wooden pegs and short poles to stab into the ground if none were found out in no man's land. Then, with a callous thought, he reached the frontline trench and took a look at those around him. Diana was of most familiar. God, he could hardly believe that but a few months ago, she had appeared madly in love with him. Well, madly was an extension of a desire for importance, likely just interested. But he could barely tell then and there. Maybe she did. Maybe she had moved on to real men and women, like she had in the inn - the fateful day he tried to pull that trigger on his skull.

One Cienie: a name he barely knew. The guy wasn't from around there. Not a lick of Valois or Edinburgh in him, which he couldn't tell if he respected or not. By respect, of course, he meant for the decision to go there, not the place he came from. Maybe he never got to decide. For some it was easier to have the decision of duty made for them, but for most it was a case of cruelty at the highest order. And he felt as if he missed home, much like how he imagined the unfamiliar Private may have, but there was little left of a real home to return to. Then there was the Corporal Romijnsen. She looked more of a Corporal than he did, and he knew nothing of her. A woman from the same soil he'd stemmed from, but the age in her was barely noticeable. It was comical that the earth and fatigue made everyone look a hundred years older. He'd already scanned Britta and Isaac enough to know the lovers were living the life he wished he could have. It wasn't that much different from his current life, but there was a dependent co-prosperous human that might as well have been wedlocked. Lucia was there, too, with her hand on his sleeve. Had she been a normal and more approachable individual, he would've imagined her with the other sophisticated lads in the platoon. Lest that were true, her supposed actions at Amone had shown that she was more capable a killer than the majority of the men around her, even with the innocent aura about her. And then there was Senja.

Everyone must have loved Senja, he thought to himself, for they should've enjoyed the company of an angel. Every John, Jerry and Sarah was at her heels, lapping up the air she breathed and pleading for her holy healing magic to cast away their woes. Jean surely wanted and needed that, but he wasn't of her time, or perhaps he wasn't a victim enough to deserve it. He was just Jean. That was how it was. The comfort of some village girl hadn't really don't that for him, for they sometimes had their ways with a lot of dishevelled men. It wasn't their reason to stay in a war-torn home, but it was treated like it were a duty, one that Jean considered most unfair - though then again, he had seen that side of village life himself.

He looked around and made for the first steps. A watch in his pocket ticked by with as much pain and agony as he had. It was pained, and he too felt it in the mechanical chicka-chicks it made. In a desperate plea for something to amend what could be another day at the office or a day in which he perished, he looked behind him and eyed the group.

"We're on a small job. We get on doing what we do, and we'll do it well. Then, we'll be back before the Imperials can say Schwartzgrad." It was just a minute left to go. And with that lump in his throat forming once more, he looked at Diana, then to Senja, and flashed the most unconvincing of smiles he could. "You two good? Just keep on my heels, right?"