Post by Threid on Mar 15, 2010 23:24:30 GMT -5
"I'm Tybalt - I've single-handedly handed several Zakus their asses, gallantly galvanized groups of guerrillas, and am now known as corporal Karister, current co-leader of your corps of combatants."
Kyle stared at the skinny, smirking man in front of him, then back at the papers, which had arrived in his hands courtesy of a hurried private, mere moments before the introduction. Well, at least this time the papers got here before the man. Tybalt reeked strongly of some cologne that Kyle had never smelled before, and a brightly-colored feather was mounted ostentatiously on the man's hat.
Tybalt continued, in a confiding tone, "Anyway, sorry to hear about your party. Perhaps if you had invited me, things would've been a bit more lively, and more of your guests would've attended."
Kyle's face burned with embarrassment. His recent attempt at throwing a party would have been deemed a failure by an outside observer, he admitted; fewer than half of those invited had shown up, and although he had enjoyed the interaction with those present, he had been hoping for a better turnout. Though, considering the unorthodox invitations, he wasn't too surprised.
What did surprise him was that Tybalt, who had transferred to the 87th only yesterday, had heard about the party he'd tried to throw last week, which had taken place in an entirely different city. He stammered, "Yes... I mean, of course you would have been invited, if I'd known about you, corporal Karister..."
"Don't mention it; you can make up for it later. So, where's the rest of the team?" Tybalt asked, his sharp eyes scanning the hangar. "I heard you guys were green, but good."
Kyle looked around too, but Madelaine was nowhere to be seen. "Maybe she's working on her mobile suit," he ventured. It was a good bet; Madelaine was handy with mechanical things, and she enjoyed working with her mobile suit especially, whether it needed fixing or tuning.
"Already checked, corporal Slater, but the grease monkey-turned-pilot must be up another tree right now. In any case, you'll have to introduce us later - maybe the three of us can spar, or something. You know what they say, 'The team that plays together slays together!'"
Kyle had never heard that, but he returned, "Yes. Right. Of course."
Tybalt started walking confidently out of the hangar. He called over his shoulder, "Look forward to leading the team with you, Slater. Stay sharp, kiddo. We'll go over the plans for Odessa tonight. Meet me in the mess hall at 1800 hours for dinner, then we'll pore over some plans."
Kiddo? Kyle noticed that he was standing at attention, for some reason, and he relaxed. The strutting form of his new teammate disappeared around a corner, and Kyle walked over to his Gundam. Co-leader? Kyle glanced back down at the transfer papers, skimming Tybalt's combat record. It was moderately impressive - certainly more so than Kyle's when he had started leading an MS team. He hoped the new guy would gel with him and Madelaine. If he can control the battlefield half as well as he controlled our conversation, we're lucky to have him.
Kyle stared at the skinny, smirking man in front of him, then back at the papers, which had arrived in his hands courtesy of a hurried private, mere moments before the introduction. Well, at least this time the papers got here before the man. Tybalt reeked strongly of some cologne that Kyle had never smelled before, and a brightly-colored feather was mounted ostentatiously on the man's hat.
Tybalt continued, in a confiding tone, "Anyway, sorry to hear about your party. Perhaps if you had invited me, things would've been a bit more lively, and more of your guests would've attended."
Kyle's face burned with embarrassment. His recent attempt at throwing a party would have been deemed a failure by an outside observer, he admitted; fewer than half of those invited had shown up, and although he had enjoyed the interaction with those present, he had been hoping for a better turnout. Though, considering the unorthodox invitations, he wasn't too surprised.
What did surprise him was that Tybalt, who had transferred to the 87th only yesterday, had heard about the party he'd tried to throw last week, which had taken place in an entirely different city. He stammered, "Yes... I mean, of course you would have been invited, if I'd known about you, corporal Karister..."
"Don't mention it; you can make up for it later. So, where's the rest of the team?" Tybalt asked, his sharp eyes scanning the hangar. "I heard you guys were green, but good."
Kyle looked around too, but Madelaine was nowhere to be seen. "Maybe she's working on her mobile suit," he ventured. It was a good bet; Madelaine was handy with mechanical things, and she enjoyed working with her mobile suit especially, whether it needed fixing or tuning.
"Already checked, corporal Slater, but the grease monkey-turned-pilot must be up another tree right now. In any case, you'll have to introduce us later - maybe the three of us can spar, or something. You know what they say, 'The team that plays together slays together!'"
Kyle had never heard that, but he returned, "Yes. Right. Of course."
Tybalt started walking confidently out of the hangar. He called over his shoulder, "Look forward to leading the team with you, Slater. Stay sharp, kiddo. We'll go over the plans for Odessa tonight. Meet me in the mess hall at 1800 hours for dinner, then we'll pore over some plans."
Kiddo? Kyle noticed that he was standing at attention, for some reason, and he relaxed. The strutting form of his new teammate disappeared around a corner, and Kyle walked over to his Gundam. Co-leader? Kyle glanced back down at the transfer papers, skimming Tybalt's combat record. It was moderately impressive - certainly more so than Kyle's when he had started leading an MS team. He hoped the new guy would gel with him and Madelaine. If he can control the battlefield half as well as he controlled our conversation, we're lucky to have him.