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originally posted in:The New Dojo
Edited by A Stormy Dio:
11/14/2017 2:46:09 AM
1
“Oh...well I’m lazy and tired mate.” He tells Nat, sitting on one of the big chairs in the room.
“What are you, some type of medieval type person?” He asked her.
English
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[i]"Nah -blam!- that. I'm in the group for it, but my radio kinda tells people I'm not a sword and board knight and all." [/i]
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“Ah...was thinking that considering I saw those people ‘round me.” He replied to her, dropping one of his clips on the floor and checked his carbine. “Yeah...you have any food?” He asked, the sound of a roaring stomach being heard right after.
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[i]"Yeah, at the local grocery store. You walk into my house uninvited and ask for food, are you handícapped or something?" [/i]
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“No. Don’t exactly think this counts as money around here, right?” Marcus asked, shuffling through his messy bag of spare clips, and loose bullets, eventually pulling up a crumbled piece of paper. [url=https://murcutt.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/image.png]A twenty[/url] seemingly came out of his pocket, as he gave it to Natalie.
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[i]Nat took and pocketed the money, before she grabbed a box of crackers and passed it to him. [/i]
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He took it, eating a few at a time with his hands. “So...who the f*** are the Travyens? Never heard of them for my what, 80 something days I’ve been sent here?” He asked, chowing down on his craxkers, a smile on his face. “God damn; better than those damn military rations!”
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[i]"You've never had crackers before?" [/i]
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“I’ve had crackers back at home...but trust me, when your stuck three months in the damn war of the world, you tend to get less enjoyable food in the military.” Marcus replied to her, scrambling for another pack in there.
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[i]"War of the world?" [/i]
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“Trust me; Ottoman Empire wasn’t exactly friendly with us when we landed in 1917. Neither were those point-headed Germans, or those holy shit heads that call themselves the Austrian-Hungos.” He tells Nat, chowing down on some ships while throwing his rifle on the floor.
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[i]"Pick that rifle up. This is my house, not a barrack." [/i]
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“Look kid, I know this is your house and all. Last time I checked, a gun isn’t gonna so much, m’lady.” He responds, although placed the crackers on the nearby table, picking up the rifle and placing it on the chair. “So...what’s a young fellow like you doing around here?” He asked...even though he looked just as young as Nat.
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[i]"Are you joking? I'm sitting in my fûcking house." [/i]
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“I mean why did you join the Travyens? They don’t seem like the...friendliest bunch. They look more like god damn cosplayers from the Brits if I’ve ever heard of anything.” He asks Nat.
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[i]"I knew one of the leaders." [/i]
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“...and that got you in? Seriously? Had to forge papers, sneak out of my mum’s house so she didn’t have to worry about me entering the war, and THEN, had to be trained for a few months, then got sent out. And that was before I was even brought here!” Marcus had explained, shuffling through his bag. “Come on, where are you...” he mumbles to himself.
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[i]"Yeah. Knowing people helps." [/i]
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“Knowing people helps, Yeah. Knew a few guys I knew from primary. Died in the Balkans. Guys mistakes a landing, got massacred by the Ottos on sight. All 85 of their company.” Marcus explained, pulling out an old rustled wallet, seemingly stolen from a dead German soldier. “Friend of mine’s from Sydney sent this to me before the war. She hadn’t exactly entered the war; but she gave me this. Has a couple thousand German...dollars, whatever they’re called.” He explained, giving them to Nat. “What do I get in return? I’m sure this money is valuable for something around here.”
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[i]"I don't know really, for the most part I don't buy stuff." [/i]
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“I know; just need some type of roof to hide myself under. This room seems comfy, but I know it’s yours, mate.” He replies, looking around the room.
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[i]"There's a few abandoned buildings around here, go wild." [/i]
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“Alright then...might as well have someone help me with that...but until then, can I at least sleep on this chair until the night’s through?” He asks.
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[i]"Dude there's tents around here, go sleep in a barrack." [/i]
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“Aw...this is comfy though!” Marcus had yelled. “But...if you wish.” He says, slinging his rifle back onto himself and leaving, crackers in tow...but not before leaving his pistol, the P08 behind.
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[i]"Ain't you going to take the gun?" [/i]
