How'sa bout a drink?

[The End Narrator]

Obvious?

Probably...

Did she care?

No...

There really wasn't much to care about these days, well save for [member="Corvus Raaf"]. That spriteful little girl who somehow stumbled her way into her life and well, she had been neglecting her as of late. She'd have to make it up to her, show her some unique moves and things that Aaralyn felt that she was one of few who knew that particular move. As of right now though, she was focused on something else, well someone else.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"].

Why?

He seemed like an interesting enough person who had a story to tell and besides, Naboo didn't allow her enough time to get the full gist of the man behind the armor out. She doubted that would be accomplished, but either way, he needed someone to talk to. That is why she found herself where she was now, arms folded across her chest as she watched the various OP soldiers in their respective firing lanes. Sarge took up three lanes, probably because people knew better than to be around him when he was shooting? Or perhaps because he liked privacy. She assumed that is why he was on the end and had all that space.

He was a strange guy indeed.

She approached calmly, examining the armored figure as he took aim with his bolter. "So, this is what you do with your free time?" She said abruptly.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

The man lowered the barrel of the specially modified bolter, designed for use in his monstrously sized hands. His gauntlet still bore the double-barreled variant which had been produced specifically for him... but the one in his hands was a different prototype.

Not that he was going to tell her that. Ejecting the clip, he set it down, the massive rounded bolt rounds set up in neat rows off to one side. He'd not noticed the space, but he'd certainly noted the intruder. Sword of the Jedi. What did she want...?

Giving a grunt that was muffled by the fact his external speaker wasn't activated, he set the weapon down on its side. That familiar click would sound. "What would you rather I do? Scribble in a journal? Draw phallic shapes on the inside walls of a guard tower? Perhaps pick a fight with the MPs?"

Reaching his hands over, he hefted the rounds and began slotting them into place in the magazine. Heaving a sigh that came out as a burst of static, he hefted the weapon again and reloaded it. It would become clear why he'd been given a wide berth in the instant after the trigger was depressed.

The massive round jolted from the weapon with pillars of propellant coming from the muzzle brake with a sound that, even with ear protection, was more than a bit offending to the senses. Blasters made a high pitched whine; the harsh bark of a slugthrower on this scale wasn't something the soldiers were used to.

Squeezing a few more rounds off, the metal target he'd been shooting simply disintegrated under the onslaught, the shells exploding once they'd punctured the 'chest.' Ejecting the magazine again and setting it down, he turned towards her once more.

"How may I be of assistance today, Sword." His tone carried with it the desire to cross his arms over his chest, but he didn't. Perhaps he was being polite. Or maybe the armor was too bulky. Likely the latter.

[member="Aaralyn Rekali"]

 

[The End Narrator]

Tsk, tsk...

She could sense the urgency to dispatch with her presence, as she apparently was an annoyance in his side. It was bad for him though, as she came from a rather stubborn man known as [member="Ember Rekali"] and typically didn't budge, even under threat of force. In this case, especially, she wouldn't be doing much budging. She took a few steps closer as she watched him eject his rounds, her eyes staring at the large shell casings for a brief moment before looking up at him with a smile on her face.

"So I was thinking we could go get a drink...." She said firmly as she stepped over an ejected shell casing. "Although, I think you might wanna police up your brass before we go..." She continued to take a few steps closer, keeping her arms folded across her chest. "You know, maybe as a gesture of kindness since you weren't all that friendly in that dropship?" Lame excuse but one that sort've amused her either way.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

There was an undeniable urge to step away from her as she moved forward. Not because of her confidence - or arrogance, perhaps - but simply because she was certainly invading his personal space in a direct manner that did not sit too well with him.

Usually when people acted like that they expected a certain answer or things would go sideways. Except in this instance, he imagined that wouldn't turn out as planned. She was stubborn, he'd give her that - even if he had an urge to strangle her and toss her from his presence.

Without realizing it, his fingers tensed and flexed before relaxing again. Those cold blue optics regarded her for several long moments before he shook his head. "Not happening." He says finally, bolter being set down as he began slotting more rounds back in. "Stress testing to do." He adds. "Besides, this facility doesn't rate what I'd need to remove the armor."

She certainly knew how to pick people to ask out on a date.

[member="Aaralyn Rekali"]

 

[The End Narrator]

Aaralyn pursed her lips and gently reached out with the Force, a hand raising towards one of the shells as he was about to reach for it. She manipulated the shell and brought it up in the air, floating it effortlessly between them with a simple wave of her hand. "I don't think that is an option...You see, you brushed me off being polite on the dropship." She paused for a moment and stared at the shell between them, then she just kind of rolled her eyes and shrugged. "Sure, fine, I can handle being uhm told to bugger off in a professional manner but this is sort've personal?" She made twirling motions idly in the air with her fingers, causing the shell to turn end over end. "Hastings said it was just who you are, so I'm curious to find out more..."

She gently lowered her hand and in turn the shell lowered between them. "I'd also kinda figured you'd say that, no one asked you to remove the armor." She waved a hand before her. "You're not that lucky and I'm not that desperate." She said with a laugh. "I mean, if I knew what you looked like under there...well..." She waved a hand to the side, making a motion as if she were rushing on the conversation. "Then I might be considering my options."

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

There he stood. Torn. How did he proceed? A rage was rising in his chest, a red-hot pressure that forced air from his lungs and sent clouds edging around his mind. She was touching his ammunition. You never touched his ammunition, just like you didn't touch his weapons or armor.

They were his. All but sacred.

Besides, that shell would blow her entire arm clean off and likely cave in part of her torso too. Maybe she was as dumb as she was spoiled.

"I don't think you can handle it. Otherwise you wouldn't be trying to force conversation on someone who isn't looking for it." He retorts, fighting back the overwhelming desire to cave her skull in. Thank the Force his mind was a mental blank - made sure most people couldn't get a read on you.

"But I'll humor you. Where do you think I'm going to be able to fit, get a drink, and not have to remove the armor." He adds, grabbing a box magazine from the table and attaching it to the weapon on his left gauntlet. Setting his feet shoulder width apart, he simply lifted his left arm and depressed the trigger at the end of the handle that was settled in his palm.

5 seconds of fire, a myriad of craters and explosions later... and the thing clicked dry. Dropping the mag from the gauntlet, he caught it in his other hand and set it aside. He felt better now. "Way I see it, Sword, you don't have many options. You continue to beat your head against a wall, which seems the most likely course. Seems you've been doing that your whole life. Or, you cut your losses and leave." The verbal shrug was there even if the physical one was not.

"The third, of course, is to find another option. One that you think would be more appealing to me than attempting to converse with a woman so clearly used to getting exactly what she wants."

[member="Aaralyn Rekali"]

 

[The End Narrator]

Challenge...

Not accepted.

Aaralyn shook her head softly at the notion. "I don't think you would make it past the first navpoint..." Who was she really to say anything about something she knew nothing about?! She would make a mental wince before quickly shifting the subject. "You may not be seeking a conversation, but I am. You've made me curious."

It didn't take the Force to see or feel the tension emanating from his being or to understand his irritation - luckily, she wasn't bothered by such things. It wasn't the first time someone didn't desire her presence and probably wouldn't be the last.

Humor him? Hardly, it was less about humor and more about building relations and bridging a gap and no, not those type of relations. Sarge was proven in many fields, especially combat, more so it was his undying reliability and loyalty that made her desire to talk to him.

She brought her hands down and gently placed them on her hips as she watched his barrage. "I hardly see it as me beating my head against the wall, more so you avoiding a simple drink and a conversation." She turned her gaze to focus on Sarge with a simple shrug. "I have no losses in this, only have more to gain." Her hand came up to brush hair from her face. "Even conversing with you now is a win..." She figured he would be uncomfortable in such a predicament, so there was always Plan B if he continued to show signs of resistance.

There was more than one way to shed the thick layers off this onion.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

[member="Aaralyn Rekali"]

"I am keenly aware of what this discourse means for you, and what you hope to accomplish with it." He says, adjusting his gauntlet and giving a sigh as the squat helmet returns its gaze to hers. His hands deftly went back to his weapon, stripping it down to get a hint of how it was holding up.

Several thousand rounds put through today. A lot of expenditure, but one he could justify. After all, they'd be putting thousands of rounds downrage in their next fight with the Sith. Removing the stock had been a good idea, though, considering the pauldrons didn't make the use of one an intelligent proposition.

"So, my options are what? Talk and keep you around... or not talk and keep you around?" He shrugged. It was a familiar strategy, one that didn't bother him as much as he'd anticipated. If it worked, it worked. Short of shooting her he wasn't getting rid of her.

Maybe he could just drug her and drop her in Republic space. Might be easier that way. "But you're right. I am avoiding a drink and conversation, because if it wasn't already clear... it's not an appealing proposition."

 

[The End Narrator]

Aaralyn shrugged. "Fine, I'll drink and watch you shoot something." She gestured. "Or if you're really wanting me to go away, I'll leave the offer in the air and not press the issue." She shrugged lightly and found an empty crate to sit on, her legs crossing at the ankles. "So, how does it actually hold up in combat?" She motioned towards the weapon he was stripping down. "I mean, obviously against the normal it would work perfectly, I presume but against Force users say like [member="Darth Junra"]."

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

The man busied himself with the breaking down of the relatively unfamiliar weapon. It was a harsh redesign from the original, and only a slight shift from the Mk. 2. He didn't want to call it the Mk. III though, as that felt cheap compared to the evolution it was.

There weren't actually too many parts - it was a typical assault weapon, just souped up. His fingers tapped out a rhythm on the tabletop to the tune of some old song from the mountain highlands of Corellia. "Better than anything sort of an artillery blast - plasma based or otherwise." He gave a bit of a sigh, hefting one of the shells in between two fingers.

"The boltgun was designed around the time that OmegaPyre took the galactic stage, but before it was known as the Protectorate. It was designed to counter Force Users by way of explosive. In essence, you had a grenade launcher with a ten meter minimum range and a complete inability to be used once the enemy closed the gap. Basically, by that point, you were left with a very expensive club."

Setting the round down after he considers it, he begins scanning the parts with his eyes, helmet taking care of figuring out where the wear and tear truly was. Part of an advanced helmet was making things like this easier to do. Beginning the slow process of reassembling the weapon, he frowned, knowing this was playing into her hand but not caring.

Easier to talk about a weapon than himself. "Those forerunners fired what amounted to a 20mm grenade, and while that's all well and good... it was just a grenade. It couldn't penetrate armor; granted, the explosion did a lot of that, but with the advent of seemingly mass produced phrik and beskar battlegear it became very swiftly apparent that a simple 20mm grenade wouldn't do."

Funny that the underlayer of his armor was beskar, but he actually sported a durasteel-titanium allow for his armor, not unlike what one would expect on the hull of a starship. Weapon thus reassembled, he racked the slide and hefted a mag.

"So, instead, I had the forges change around the shell used in the Mk. II. It's a delayed impact round - there's about a millisecond after it hits something before it detonates. This way, if it does manage to penetrate the outer layer of armor it can do far more damage.

We had to strip out a bit of explosive, but we stabilized the round and made it more in line with what you'd expect from a regular slug; a regular slug that's got enough solid propellant in the base to essentially be termed 'rocket-propelled.'"

Turning his head to give her a sideways look, he slotted another magazine into place. "So why don't you tell me how good you expect it to do. Delayed impact round. Explosive. Propelled to slug-speeds unlike a regular grenade, all with a nice reshaped bullet to make it more penetrative against armor rather than just impacting and exploding.

Won't get through phrik, but kinetic force transfers." He shrugged.

"Too large to be used by a regular soldier, but frankly this isn't for them." Hefting the weapon, he turned his attention back to the range and set about annihilating another target.

[member="Aaralyn Rekali"]