Not gonna lie, wine wasn't what I thought Delacroix was suggesting when he offered the Captain a different kind of payment.
SirBeowulf
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What a load of Donk.
STATUS: It might be three inches, but it smells like a foot. 10 yrs ago
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- SirBeowulf 11 yrs ago
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It might be three inches, but it smells like a foot.
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Dont forget @SirBeowulf, you're not the only person here who got their start in infantry. I believe Delacroix and Trapp both come from infantry backgrounds.
Aye. Tis why I said 'most'. Post is finished now.
Whoops. Don't read my post yet, I accidentally submitted it while trying to open the Cheat sheat near the bottom.
stilltwerkinonit
stilltwerkinonit
A scoffing sound was heard as Wes stepped behind Alice as she applied a critical hit to the air. He waited until she finished speaking before clearing his own throat. "Don't listen to those two amateurs, rookie," he said with a grin. "Frenchies are all cowards at heart, and robots don't have any passion to the talent. Those Japs are decent and all, but they can't do much without katanas," he said as he continued, being blatantly racist and insensitive, but speaking with a joking undertone.
"Closest most of you have been to infantry is flying over their heads and hearing their cheers. Nunna you know what combat is other than sitting comfortable in your pilot seat. All I'm saying is listen to the man who's actually killed another man with his two hands, not through metallic ones." Wes shut his eyes and nodded, rigid in his belief. "I could whip your ass in hand to hand, Delacroix. Hell, I might succeed if both you and Alice came at me at once." He was bragging, but not wholly. Wes was damn confident in his skills
Wes might not have been the fastest or quickest, but he had the endurance and strength of an ox. That was the key in boxing, the ability to last longer and keep on punching more than your opponent. The only thing he was unsure about was Alice. She was a robot, she didn't need to pause or rest or respond to pain. That combined with her speed and faster than normal reflexes made for an unfair fight.
He hid a sigh as they saluted, returning to his machine all the while calculating a plan of how he could kill them both if he were in a situation like that.
"I'm gonna be docked a ton, aren't I, Cap'n?" Wes asked, holding a porno mag behind his back as Captain Marquis examined his machine. Contrary to earlier descriptions, the inside of it was actually messy as hell in the eyes of another person. There was an inch or two of litter on the bottom floor, a few crushed beer cans sat with liquid still in them. A poster with a buxom woman was tacked onto the upper dash. "I swear, it didn't look like this earlier, Ma'am. Some aliens came in and trashed the place."
She looked at him with incredulity and then a bit of disgust as she picked up the remains of what appeared to be a turkey dinner. "Wes, why the hell do I even come up here anymore? It gets worse every single time," she said with a sigh.
"Not sure, Ma'am. To be honest you're fighting a losing battle." He scooped over to pick up the drumstick she had dropped, looking at its day old appearance for a moment before deciding to take a large bite.
She stared for a few moments before sighing again. "You know what, Wes? Fine. Your machine appears to be running fine, do whatever the hell you'd like to with the interior." She paused before glancing at the poster. "And we both know the August edition is the best, Junior Lieutenant," she said with a joking tone as she left.
He saluted and grinned, the drumstick still in his mouth.
Walking back towards the group, he spied the last cup of coffee, snatching it out of Delacroix' hands and beginning to take a deep gulp. When he finished he let out a sigh. "Nothing'll ever beat Coffee. Though, I will have to say. They don't make it quite as interesting as the stuff that came in field rations, don't they?"
Looking deep into the mug, he spoke again. "Worst coffee I ever had, ration coffee."
"Closest most of you have been to infantry is flying over their heads and hearing their cheers. Nunna you know what combat is other than sitting comfortable in your pilot seat. All I'm saying is listen to the man who's actually killed another man with his two hands, not through metallic ones." Wes shut his eyes and nodded, rigid in his belief. "I could whip your ass in hand to hand, Delacroix. Hell, I might succeed if both you and Alice came at me at once." He was bragging, but not wholly. Wes was damn confident in his skills
Wes might not have been the fastest or quickest, but he had the endurance and strength of an ox. That was the key in boxing, the ability to last longer and keep on punching more than your opponent. The only thing he was unsure about was Alice. She was a robot, she didn't need to pause or rest or respond to pain. That combined with her speed and faster than normal reflexes made for an unfair fight.
He hid a sigh as they saluted, returning to his machine all the while calculating a plan of how he could kill them both if he were in a situation like that.
"I'm gonna be docked a ton, aren't I, Cap'n?" Wes asked, holding a porno mag behind his back as Captain Marquis examined his machine. Contrary to earlier descriptions, the inside of it was actually messy as hell in the eyes of another person. There was an inch or two of litter on the bottom floor, a few crushed beer cans sat with liquid still in them. A poster with a buxom woman was tacked onto the upper dash. "I swear, it didn't look like this earlier, Ma'am. Some aliens came in and trashed the place."
She looked at him with incredulity and then a bit of disgust as she picked up the remains of what appeared to be a turkey dinner. "Wes, why the hell do I even come up here anymore? It gets worse every single time," she said with a sigh.
"Not sure, Ma'am. To be honest you're fighting a losing battle." He scooped over to pick up the drumstick she had dropped, looking at its day old appearance for a moment before deciding to take a large bite.
She stared for a few moments before sighing again. "You know what, Wes? Fine. Your machine appears to be running fine, do whatever the hell you'd like to with the interior." She paused before glancing at the poster. "And we both know the August edition is the best, Junior Lieutenant," she said with a joking tone as she left.
He saluted and grinned, the drumstick still in his mouth.
Walking back towards the group, he spied the last cup of coffee, snatching it out of Delacroix' hands and beginning to take a deep gulp. When he finished he let out a sigh. "Nothing'll ever beat Coffee. Though, I will have to say. They don't make it quite as interesting as the stuff that came in field rations, don't they?"
Looking deep into the mug, he spoke again. "Worst coffee I ever had, ration coffee."
Small talk enough not is all I have to say about that.
Was the small talk satisfactory?
2/10 not enough small talk
<Snipped quote by Hella Cute>
And with that, I dub this Wincest: The RP.
Beo's words, not mine.
You can't just shove responsibilities on me! I've got a reputation to uphold.
So, when you mentioned physical light... are we talking about light sabers or rainbow road?
Wait nevermind.
You know the hard light stuff from Portal 2? Its kind of like that, I suppose.
Finally. New blood. Not as special as mine though. Beo's words, not mine...
bb ur blod best blod
slurp slurp
<Snipped quote by SirBeowulf>
Oh shit, Beo's gone full tsundere.
You never go full tsundere.
Edit: xD Make sure you send me the appropriate PM, Hella.
I've been so tsundere this entire time, you didn't even know it.
B-Baka... I-its not like we want more players or anything...~
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