Athena IC

[Bentus]

Oosterscheldekering Dam Base
Firing Range
Ethan Haynes

Ethan raised an eyebrow at the woman’s monotone response; the impassive statement seemed to be at odds with her physical appearance. His eyes glanced almost imperceptibly over at the lapel on her uniform’s shoulder, even if his expression didn’t betray anything. Second Lieutenant? Well shit, isn’t that just my luck. Sounds like she might have a stick up her arse too. Still, Ethan wasn’t one to miss out on an opportunity, and heck, he had to make friends at some point. What would be the harm if one of them turned out to be a smoking hot Israeli officer? Could be worse.

“Pleasure to meet you, Ms Meldola – I’m assuming it’s not Mrs?” He grinned mischievously at the woman, lowering his SCAR to the ground and turning his whole body around to face the Israeli. “Pray tell, would it be too bold to imagine that there’s a first name hidden behind that uniform somewhere?” She seemed to be pretty uptight, Ethan supposed it came with the territory of Officer-dom. He’d never been particularly drawn to the ranks of Command, you ended up getting your hands tied down at every corner. Plus, it seemed as if that fine line between enlisted and NCO was the fundamental division between soldier and politician from time-to-time. Regardless, even Second Lieutenants had to have a soft-side somewhere – although Ethan imagined that he’d be lucky to get so much as a smile from this one.

“How long have you been down at the Ooster? I dropped in just the other day and still haven’t quite got my bearings – any recommended highlights for a tourist like myself?”

[Shyluz]

Artem sat in the VTOL, quietly contemplating the odds of him being forced to engage the SCK. He turned, about to say something to Emilie, before seeing the familiar glint of someone who'd lost someone close. He closed his open mouth, before reopening it quickly.

"Who'd you lose?" He said, giving a friendly smile to the short woman next to him, simultaneosly checking his pouches for the picture of his fiancee who'd died in first contact. Eventually, he found it in a pouch labeled 'cards.' He unfolded the small picture, turning his head down towards the photograph.

[Bentus]

Oosterscheldekering Dam Base
V-44
Emilie Girard

Emilie’s skin bristled at the question, her eyes narrowing in defensive anger. Instinctively, she opened her mouth to tell Artem to stick his question where the Sun didn’t shine and learn to mind his own business, but she paused as she saw the friendly smile that he offered – that look of understanding which she’d seen faked so many times in the past. Except this time it was the real thing.

She remained silent as he dug through his pockets, watching his movements as she tried to deduce some ulterior motive, some sign that he was being anything less than genuine. She very seriously considered simply not answering the Czech, not allowing even a single chip in her armour to show for even the barest of moments. It might even have been better to laugh it off, tell him that war was war or that she’d never lost anybody, or continue on with the biggest lie a soldier ever had to tell themselves: that they just didn’t care. Eventually, Artem pulled out a small, carefully folded picture from one of his seemingly endless pockets to reveal the smiling face of a young woman. Emilie knew exactly what it meant.

The medic sighed to herself, turning away from Artem – not wanting to see the way he looked at that photo. “Someone close. A friend.” C’est des conneries. They’d been more than that and Emilie knew that Artem could see that clear as day. “He was a pilot in the Aéronavale and our units often worked together.” A flash from Emilie’s dream, from not a night earlier, burst into her mind. Her features darkened for a moment and she hastily tried to divert the focus from herself. “Et vous? Who’s the girl in the photo?”

[Shyluz]

Artem gave a quick smile as he saw through the deception. Soldiers are many things -- good at lying wasn't one of them. And that suited him perfectly. With the briefest of sighs, he handed Emilie the photo. "That was my fiancee, Sasha Šímová. She was in Moscow on First Contact, leading a class of students on a trip abroad as their mathematics teacher. Don't know how she died, precisely, at least."

He thought for a moment on how she died, the pain and horror she likely endured protecting her students from some unspeakable horror. All while Artem was off at a training exercise in the CR. All while he couldn't protect. He shook his head violently for a few seconds, forcibly ejecting the guilty thoughts from his mind before they impeded his combat effectiveness.

He grabbed the small twin pieces of metal, his ID tags, and took them off his neck, placing them in his palm, before offering them to Emilie.

"I have a feeling that out of the two of us, you're going to last longer." He said, giving a small chuckle before he continued, "Not that I plan on leaving you lot, at least, of my own will."

[Bentus]

Oosterscheldekering Dam Base
V-44
Emilie Girard

When Artem revealed that the woman had been his fiancée, Emilie’s eyes widened in surprise. Her first instinct was to apologise, offer condolences for his loss, but she immediately thought better of it. Whatever she’d have said, it would have been disingenuous – simply sounds that people said to those who had suffered in order to make themselves feel like they’d done their good deed for the day. The incident in Moscow had been the catalyst that had led to Athena ramping up its activities, incontrovertible proof of a hostile alien incursion. Emilie remembered reading the after-action report, seeing the names of the soldiers who had died in Russia, she’d even managed to get her hands on the post-mortem analyses to satiate her morbid curiosity about their newfound foe.

The woman in the picture – Sasha – was smiling coyly at the lens, adjusting her glasses as she did so. She had brown hair stretching down past her shoulders and had large brown eyes that seemed to shine as they looked at the camera. Emilie could imagine Artem standing there, taking the picture on some outing – maybe on an anniversary or a holiday of some kind? The medic grimaced, turning away from the dead woman’s visage. For all the time she’d poured going over every tactical detail of that engagement in Moscow, she’d never thought to go further than skimming the civilian casualties. She’d become immune to collateral damage, to the innocent blood that tended to be shed in her line of work. And yet it seemed like Artem had been tied to the aliens right from the very beginning.

Emilie looked down at the offered dog tags in something akin to shock. She glanced from the metal IDs to scan Artem’s face, seeing the momentary glimmer of guilt in his eyes. Merde. What the hell did he expect her to do?

“In that case you better hold on to them.” Emilie said, pushing Artem’s hand away. “Wouldn't want to make my job any more difficult than it already is.” She smiled jokingly, wondering exactly why the man had chosen to sign up to Athena, and whether or not he really wanted to come back from these missions alive. Then again, who was she to judge a man like him? She’d never thought of it that way before, but she supposed that she’d never originally set out with the intention of staying on for more than her required years of service. And yet here she was.

[Shyluz]

Artem nodded quickly, placing the tags around his neck with a chuckle. The man patted himself down, before finding what he was looking for, it was a pack of Marlboro cigarettes, he withdrew one, and placed in his mouth. He then grabbed the small silver lighter, engraved with the emblem of the 601st, and lit the cig. Artem's face looked visibly relieved as he exhaled, a small stream of gray smoke wafted out of the VTOL as Artem offered the pack to the short French woman sitting next to him.

"Cig?" He asked politely.

[Sonitusia]

"Don't mind if I do," Odetta said, trying to get social with her team members. She was sitting next to the French woman, so she leaned over only a little to snatch a cigarette from the Czech's pack, and put it in her mouth before lighting it with her lighter, which she used to start firecrackers or other fun fire-based fuses. Though she despised small talk, she needed to know more about who she worked with, and that required speech. "Oberstabsgefreiter Carrius, Gebirgsjägerbrigade 23 Bayern, Bundeswehr," she greeted, holding her hand out to offer a handshake.

[Bentus]

Artem nodded quickly, placing the tags around his neck with a chuckle. The man patted himself down, before finding what he was looking for, it was a pack of Marlboro cigarettes, he withdrew one, and placed in his mouth. He then grabbed the small silver lighter, engraved with the emblem of the 601st, and lit the cig. Artem's face looked visibly relieved as he exhaled, a small stream of gray smoke wafted out of the VTOL as Artem offered the pack to the short French woman sitting next to him.

"Cig?" He asked politely.

Smiling, Emilie shook her head at the offer. She'd never been a huge fan of tobacco, how it left that foul stench in her mouth and seemed to heighten one's senses instead of numbing them. Still, she felt a stab of envy at how the small cylinder offered Artem at least some respite from unwanted thoughts and memories. Suddenly, the woman sitting to her left leaned over and grabbed the cigarette before Emilie could say anything.

"Don't mind if I do. Oberstabsgefreiter Carrius, Gebirgsjägerbrigade 23 Bayern, Bundeswehr,"

The medic glowered at the German soldier for a moment, unhappy at the uninvited invasion of her space even if she wasn't going to go for the cigarette anyway, before clasping her hand in a firm handshake. "Caporal Emilie Girard, l'armee de terre." She then turned back to Artem, motioning to the man's lighter with a slight chuckle,"You seem to carry your old regiment around wherever you go. Got 601st tattooed somewhere on your arse as well?" Emilie made an effort to change the focus of the conversation away from the deaths of their past, especially so close to a mission. Otherwise they'd be going in with clouded minds, which could end up getting them both killed. It didn't help either that she'd been reminded of the other ears surrounding them in the transport.

"Did you say Carrius? As in Leonard Carrius?" Emilie remembered watching the famed hunter on the news from time-to-time, his skill as a tracker was practically legendary.

[Sonitusia]

Odetta rolled her eyes at the mention of her father's name. "Ja, ja, hunting extraordinaire," she answered, waving her hand in front of her face as if yawning, "but he hunts animals. I hunt bastards." She puffed out a small stream of smoke from her mouth, the bitter taste lingering with her. It actually wasn't one of her favorite activities, but it was one of many paths to meet new people. Besides, she did know what leaves were the best for a smoke. One of them could be a nice touch of raspberry burning with the tobacco, but she pushed the thought aside.

Looking over at the Czech who so kindly gave her a cigarette, she asked, "Und du? 601st operative?"

[Shyluz]

Artem was more than a little surprised by the German grabbing one of his cigarettes. He gave a brief sigh, before reciting his name rank and all that.

"Artem Yurivich, Svobodník, 601. skss. Armáda České Republiky." He said, a wide grin on his face as he shuffled his cards. "Mit anderen Worten , ja."

What a motley crew. He thought to himself, before exhaling another puff of smoke.

[Bentus]

Emilie raised an eyebrow at how Carrius seemed to bristle at the mention of her father, rolling her eyes and acting like she couldn’t care any less about the relation. It definitely seemed as if there was a sore spot tucked away in there somewhere. The medic scoffed audibly wondering if the German was suffering from some Daddy-issues, but kept her thoughts to herself. Bastards instead of animals, huh? Papa must be so proud that his daughter’s gone on to be a cold-blooded killer. Their job was a dirty one, and Emilie saw little point in shying away from that fact. Heck, she’d seen firsthand that both sides of the line were made of the same blood and bone.

“See any action with Gebirgsjägerbrigade 23 then?”

[Sonitusia]

"Ah, interessant," Odetta replied flatly, breathing in another drag of smoke, slowly letting it curl out moments later. It felt a bit soothing to say the least, but after awhile she just let the cigarette burn itself out. That's enough tobacco for her. "Ja, fought in Egypt, mostly did reconnaissance duty and aerial spotting." She checked her holster to make sure her other pistol was with her as well. There you are... At least that had stayed, a memory of her first firefight. "But back home, I was one of the units dispatched to repel the rebels down in southern Deutschland." Her fingers softly brushed against the old pistol lovingly. "My job was to eliminate leaders and other important figures of the groups."

She could still see the blood spilling from the mouths of the countless men and women she had terminated. The heads that had been blown clean off their bodies. The faces of shock and surprise of those around them as the red liquid sprayed their faces and clothing. Ah, hunting was a fun business.

[Bentus]

“Tu étais en Egypte? Moi aussi. Emilie responded simply, as if it were merely an observation. “I heard that the fighting in the South was pretty merdique. The crackdown against the rebels was supposedly… brutal.” That was an understatement if the French media and the rumours that she’d heard among NATO soldiers were anything to go by. Emilie eyed the woman almost suspiciously, as if analysing her movements for a perceived threat or danger. The way she touched that pistol of hers, or how her eyes almost glazed over to replay some fond memory – none of it sat comfortably with Emilie. If she hadn’t joined the army, I wonder if she’d have eventually tired of non-human prey.

The medic supposed something like that was likely, after all they were in the killing business and the military tended to recruit from three main pools: the patriots, the fools, and the crazies. She’d met her fair share of men and women from all three categories in her time; sometimes she’d pin them down in a heartbeat, while others tended to be more subtle with what drove them. Emilie glanced down to Carrius’ pistol, wondering how many people had gone out with an image of a flash from its barrel seared into their minds.

“Ah bon, the crazies always did tend to be the most effective of the lot.” She muttered under her breath to no-one in particular, almost inaudibly.

[Sonitusia]

Odetta's eye twitched as she had obviously overheard what the French had said. Or was it because only she could hear it? Years of hunting had accustomed her to notice even the faintest slight of movement, and the woman muttering was no exception. "Ahhh, nein nein nein, it's not like that," Odetta interjected, awkwardly smiling to try and cover up her bloodlust. No, she wasn't a coldblooded killer. She just didn't mind hunting baddies. But, it was hard to explain her lust for the blood that came out of them. It was sort of... Like a game? No, that's an even worse way to put it.

"I just... Enjoy the hunt, that's all," she continued, "how the target ends up is probably my choice or my duty, but the hunt is the most thrilling part of it all." Hopefully that makes her less insane than the woman claims she is.

[The Carlisle]

Sergeant Conde took the last couple minutes to scan through the PDA, looking at the mission data and the map of the area. Desert terrain, canyon, short vegetation. She been in desert environments, serving in Sudan. Not nearly as flat as it seems, but it makes it easier and harder in some ways. More cover and more areas to hide, but they'll be boxed in the canyon. The terrain didn't worry her as much as their opponents. Unknown alien tech, possible alien air support? It didn't look good if they got engaged with the enemy. But.. even with that... she was confident that they could pull through, even with a few scratches.

Conde looked up form the PDA and continued on into the V-44, standing there with the others around her. Her responsibility. The team that'll get their man out.

Mission Start

[Monfrox]

The guy either wasn't trying to be subtle, or was very bad at it. Still her expression didn't falter as she bared the brunt of his questions, carefully choosing which to answer and which to ignore.

"I would imagine that I would have a first name, given that I'm fairly certain about 90% of the people on this Earth have one." There. Her standard mathematician answers were coming to fruit again. "I wouldn't know about anywhere to go. I arrived off the transport about an hour ago. I suggest seeing the commander for a layout of the base's facilities. I'm also certain that there would be maps posted in the hallways with little "You are here" arrows and a legend for what is where and on what floor. That should be sufficient."

After that, she snatched up another magazine and made more shots at the targets.

[Bentus]

‘Do you really think the Agent will be able to handle it?’
‘Why wouldn’t she?’
‘So you don’t think that this mission is excessively risky?’
‘Risky, yes. But excessively so? No, I don’t. Whatever the dangers, the potential benefits and intelligence which we could gleam are unimaginable – especially if we get our hands on them first.’
‘I’d still have felt more at ease if you’d agreed to send one of my people, instead.’
‘Now that would have been too risky. Don’t want to alert the serpent to our scent quite yet, and Mon Dieu just imagine the collateral!’
‘She’s untested.’
‘That’s not what her file says. A hundred percent success rate in all termination, infiltration, reconnaissance, and sabotage missions to date – not to mention some impressive hostile casualty figures.’
‘Untested under these conditions.’
‘How sweet, you’re worried she won’t be able to make any friends.’
‘With her record, can you blame me?’

---

Oosterscheldekering Dam Base
Firing Range
Ethan Haynes

Ethan raised his hands in a mock surrender. “Whoa, whoa blue on blue hostility. Can’t a guy just ask for a name?” The words were quickly lost in the booming retorts of the woman’s weapon as she smoothly and efficiently slid in a new magazine, resuming her ruthless elimination of the targets down range. Ethan’s brow furrowed slightly, wondering if she’d done that on purpose so that she couldn’t hear what he said. Yep, she’s definitely got a stick right up there.

Instead of trying to yell over the loud barks of the rifle, Ethan leaned back on the thin wall separating his alley from the one opposite to the Israeli’s. He patiently waited for her to empty another clip with his arms crossed over his chest, and what could only be described as an amused expression on his face. Still, he offered the occasional whistle in appreciation of her shooting; one by one the targets fell from precise, meticulous fire. This Meldola was pretty good, if he had to guess, Ethan would say that she earned her bars rather than gaining them through kissing some higher-up’s feet; then again, could still be too early to tell.

Eventually, the clip ran dry and once again the range was quiet enough for conversation. Ethan smiled, stubbornly refusing to take the hint and leave his newest colleague alone. “You know, something’s telling me that you’re not much of a people person.” They were going to be stuck underground together for a while, she had to come out of her shell eventually.

[Monfrox]

Can't a guy ask for a name? Perhaps. However she was military, and he was military. And as he should've known, first names are not the basis of which soldiers associate. That, through being in the military, is made a special reservation for those close to them. So in that respect, no, he couldn't ask for her name. Even her door only had the first letter of her first name on it before having her last name spelled out. She heard him again. That voice was starting to get on her nerves a bit. So, she ignored it for a little bit.

As the Tarvor's magazine ran out she completely let go. It dropped down until the sling caught it and let it sway down to her side. However, Galila's arm was following it not too far behind, and as it just about came to the apex of it's back swing, she unconsciously nudged it as her hand grabbed at her BUL M-5 in her holster, drawing it. Her other hand was already in a position to accept the handgun as she swiftly drew it. But, as was one tactic she was taught by her father, she quickly pulled the slide back to eject the first round and brought it into her other palm as she shifted into the Weaver stance. There hadn't been a round chambered afterall, which she expected there not to be. As soon as the sights were level, she let rip all 13 rounds of .45 ACP into the nearest two targets.

And then, she was sufficiently out of ammunition. Everything had been put through it's paces, efficiently and effectively. She was impressed with the quality of the maintenance they did around here. Perhaps this would be worth her effort and skill to give it her all. She took the pistol magazine out and placed it on the table before looking over to the Ranger. She said nothing, and just stared in the same position at him like a statue. He'd be forgiven for thinking it took practice to get to this level of stoicism.

[Bentus]

- snip -

Ethan couldn’t hide the surprise from his eyes as Meldola seamlessly switched from her rifle to her sidearm and continued to pound rounds into the targets. He’d never seen something quite like that before and almost felt a stab of pity for the inanimate, human-shaped pieces of card that were being so ruthlessly decimated. However, his attention was shifted back to the femme fatale as she slammed the now-empty magazine down loudly onto the table. She stood motionless, as if any further movements would be redundant and without purpose, and thus not worth the expenditure of the effort. Her eyes seemed to be ambivalent to his presence, uncaring in the slightest for his interruption of her meticulous training.

“Wow. You have to teach me that trick.” Ethan grinned excitedly at the demonstration, but was instead still met by the impassive glare of the woman. An uneasy silence hang between them, with Ethan at first attempting to meet her level of indifference by locking her eyes with his own.

However, as the seconds ticked by the Ranger sighed loudly in resignation at the silent treatment. “Nothing? Not even a peep?” Ethan raised an eyebrow in confusion at this strange character. “Not a robot are you?” It was meant as a joke, but he quickly realised that next to a hostile alien invasion it didn’t seem as far-fetched as he’d first intended. He sighed again, opting to perhaps go for another tact. “How about a shooting competition, then? You win, I’ll bugger off and mind my own business. But if I win, you agree to tell me your first name.” Up against the skills he’d just seen, Ethan admitted that the odds weren’t particularly in his favour, but heck what else was going to break the ice with someone like this?

[Monfrox]

"I don't think a competition would be in your best interest if you plan on trying to build some sort of friendship with me. I will, however, humor you." She said as she walked back to the armory.

Galila swapped the Tarvor out for a standard Colt M4A1 and loaded up the magazine. Honestly, she didn't really care either way. If she won, she'd be left to her own devices. If she lost, she'd tell him her name, and then give him the business about what he should call her as a superior officer. Even if he was trying to be a womanizer, the deal was to respect what's on the collar, not on the nametape. She walked back to her station and set her carbine on the table.

"Your rules, Yankee."

[Bentus]

–snip-

Ethan rolled his eyes as the woman walked past him on her way back to the armoury, seemingly as impassive and unconcerned as ever. “Well aren’t you just a constant bucket of sunshine and confidence-boosters?” The man sighed to himself, hoping against hope that the rest of Athena wasn’t as allergic to human contact as it seemed she was. Still, it wouldn’t do her any good to hide behind a wall forever and he found himself actually looking forward to the prospect of going toe-to-toe with the skill he’d seen on the range just before.

“Your rules, Yankee.”

The Ranger smirked. “Don’t mind if I do, chivalry is so hard to come by these days.” Not to mention that he’d probably need every advantage he could get his hands on. Ethan thought for a moment before digging into his pocket, revealing a standard-issue, copper and nickel, 25 cent US quarter with a grin. “How about we take turns to tag one of these vicious combatants at 100 metres? First one to hit the target is declared the winner, and for an added bonus, they get to keep the quarter.” Ethan hefted the familiar weight of an M16 and accompanying scope. “Assault rifles only.”

His blood starting to pump in anticipation of the contest, Ethan was eager to start actually doing something again. He’d been cooped up on a flight across the Atlantic for an ungodly amount of hours, and had been doing nothing but twiddle his thumbs since he’d landed. Now faced with the opportunity to stare down a challenge and knock a couple rounds down-range, he was itching to go. Ethan held the door to the armoury open with his free hand, his M16 held loosely in the other, before standing aside from the doorway. “Ladies first, of course.” He knew the act was likely to simply irritate his new comrade, but he’d whittle her down one way or another.

[Monfrox]

The more he talked, the less Galila felt like losing. Still, there was no need to get overly serious, as was her reasoning when she saw him grab the M16 with a scope. Compared to her M4A1 with iron sights, he had a leg up. She could've gone back for the Tarvor, or even kitted either of the rifles out, but if anything that'd come off as her trying to compensate. So, she stepped up to the station after ignoring the comments the Ranger continued to make and preferred to speak more with her rifle. She gently raised the weapon up and shouldered it, aiming down the sights and regulating her breathing. Finally, after a few tens of seconds, she made her shot. The round fell a bit short and to the left, but it wasn't far from the quarter. Even with only one eye uncovered, she proved she could still sight in targets effectively. After that, she stepped back and waited for Ethan to make his shot.

[Bentus]

“Not bad.” It was a lot more than that, both Ethan and the Israeli knew it, but he calmly took up his own position, lifting the butt of his rifle to his shoulder. Ethan breathed slowly, each intake and outtake of air rocking his body gently until he could accurately predict how the repetitive action would shift his aim. The Ranger held his breath, his eye trained down his sights with his finger over the trigger, and then held that position.

Seconds ticked by, without Ethan doing anything – by all accounts he should’ve already taken his shot. Suddenly, he breathed out again, messing up his aim. Ethan did his best not to grin, deliberately drawing out his time on the stand for as long as he could manage. After fiddling with the adjustments on his sight needlessly, the man pulled his head away from the scope and licked a single finger. Holding it up as if checking for a stray breeze – in an indoor, underground facility with minimal weather patterns – Ethan continued to draw things out. He’d come to the conclusion that if this woman wasn’t going to enjoy his company, he was going to make sure she spent as much time as he could make her, in it.

Eventually, he took the shot – the bullet flying too far and screaming past the coin. Ethan sighed, exaggerating his disappointment as he stepped away from the stand.
“And here I was thinking it’d be a piece of cake. All yours gorgeous.”

[Monfrox]

Good God, this was exactly how she needed to start her tour here. Maybe they could get piss drunk too and sing karaoke and then sleep together, too. Yeah, not in this lifetime. She knew what to do, and being trained by her father and the IDF alike had given her a few skills she could use for just this purpose. Coupled with her excellent vision (the target was still only 100 meters away, though), she found the rest of the world's outside noises faded into a white noise. She calmly took the magazine out, tapped the back of it on the table a few times, and then slid it back in. She slowly brought the rifle back up and calculated from the last shot. She inhaled, and then left out half her breath before holding it, and then made her shot.

PING

The quarter tumbled out of it's hold and down the rest of the range. Galila, still a bit skeptical, put her rifle down and hopped over the station barrier. She walked over and retrieved the target, a clean hole made by the 5.56 NATO round straight through the middle. She held it up for Ethan to see after she returned.

"Checkmate."

[Bentus]

Ethan applauded, shaking his head in disbelief as he saw the clean hole through the centre of his coin. Damn, I knew she was good but I didn’t think she’d hit it on the second shot. He hadn’t really expected to win, but Ethan realised that he’d grossly under-estimated the abilities of his opponent. He wondered what other tricks Meldola had under the hood. The Ranger couldn’t stop himself from laughing at the mangled remnants of the coin, still struggling to believe that she’d made the shot.

“That was one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen.” He teased, quickly throwing his hands up in a pre-emptive surrender to any response. “But a deal’s a deal, and you beat me fair and square. I’ll make do without the name, and your grand prize is a range all to yourself.” The man winked as he collected his rifle and began to make his way over towards the range’s exit, the amused smile never once leaving his face. Ethan called out back to Meldola over his shoulder as he reached the door, “For what it’s worth, I enjoyed our first date. But maybe next time we could try beer pong instead, eh Cupcake?” The Ranger laughed all the rest of the way to the armoury, knowing full well that that was probably never going to happen.