"Jesus christ," is what she says in response to the condolences. "Don't be fuckin' sorry."
In those few words she's exposed a lot about her personality, her penchant for swearing, her lack of desire to be in mourning, and her outright disdain for the process. An irritating pushy woman lounging with her feet up. She slouches her way upright to examine him, to think about the subsequent requests for usefulness. She'd like to know too, what she could be doing that would actually get them out of here faster, but,
"This mission is a bitch, ok. It's a lot of waiting for these stupid aliens to get on with their own shit and watching them for a place to stick the knife in."
She falls back into the pile of pillows she's laid out on, staring up at the drape of the tent.
"What are you good for, anyway?"
She means what are you good at, but she's a bitch.
no subject
In those few words she's exposed a lot about her personality, her penchant for swearing, her lack of desire to be in mourning, and her outright disdain for the process. An irritating pushy woman lounging with her feet up. She slouches her way upright to examine him, to think about the subsequent requests for usefulness. She'd like to know too, what she could be doing that would actually get them out of here faster, but,
"This mission is a bitch, ok. It's a lot of waiting for these stupid aliens to get on with their own shit and watching them for a place to stick the knife in."
She falls back into the pile of pillows she's laid out on, staring up at the drape of the tent.
"What are you good for, anyway?"
She means what are you good at, but she's a bitch.