Elsen looked down upon the fidgety little man who'd touched him, the Amber eyed twit. His rank pins marked him as a Corporal, his wide grin marked him as a fool. "I'm curious Corporal. You are sitting in secret base after being spirited away by unmarked transports under orders of dubious intent. You haven't the remotest clue what damn fool errand the Administratum has seen fit to assign to us. The only fact that even I know for certain about our current purpose is that we are dealing with a highly connected and obviously covert operation - and in light of all of that, your first course of action is to sidle up to a superior officer and ask him if he's carrying any spare narcotics. Are you completely insane? Even as a joke that was a dumb-ass move."
Elsen punctuated the remark by pointing to his rank pins with the razor taloned augmentic hand, flexing his fingers in a way that intentionally ground the servos loudly. It was the subtlest of threats, a reminder that he could crush solid stone with his fingers.
The boy meant well, but Throne alone knew who could be listening. Covert operations were often overseen by a Commissar or Intelligence operative - either of which would be fond of hidden cameras or surveillance devices. The wrong word or joke could end a man's career, or his life.
Last edited by Todeswind; 01-13-14 at 12:29 AM.