#singh. ic

[hvndredbattles]

continued form here || @mvnces (singh and sobieski)

Not fuckin' moping. One of Singh's eyebrows lifts. "Uh huh." And this is his I believe you face. Fecking idjit. His eyes are rolling even before the source of the not-moping is revealed.

"You said it smelled like shite yesterday!" is his protest. How was he to know that that didn't mean Sobieski wanted nothing more to do with it?

[hvndredbattles]

@talentforlying and Singh sat together on a transatlantic flight

It's a very specific sort of brutal, listening to a baby wail from halfway across the plane. He understands, in a practical sort of way, all the reasons flying is probably just as brutal for the baby. But weeping Jesus would he kill for some peace and quiet. Singh wishes he'd managed to catch a ride with a bigger military transpo. It's shit seating and louder in one of those, but in a familiar sort of way that doesn't grate the same way commercial flights do.

Maybe his seat mate had the right idea with that G+T. Singh is about ready to start drinking on this flight himself, just to take the edge off.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, rubbing there and then his temple in an attempt to stave off his budding headache.

With nothing else to occupy himself with - stupid of him to think he'd be able to sleep, clearly - his eyes drift to the half-done crossword the man beside him has open.

Oh, he knows that one. "Detachment," he comments absently. "Thirty across. Military unit."

[hvndredbattles]

@mvnces || continued from here x

"I'm never seeing you in again, you ass."

It would be marginally less embarrassing if this truly were a large, excited dog. Instead, everyone here knows this is a grown-ass man in wolven form who barreled him over and is giving him a thorough investigating. Is this worse than if he was getting his ass handed to him here? It might be.

"Oh, Christ, your nose is wet," Singh complains, loudly and with feeling, as he tries to get his hands properly between himself and snout to push Sobieski away. "If you lick me I'll kill you, I swear t' god, Sobieski, don't ye feckin' dare-"

[hvndredbattles]

@mvnces (sobieski) / cont.

"'s why I said t' put it down." Honestly, the wolf is lucky Singh isn't doing anything with live explosives outside of a reinforced workshop, with how prone he is to touching. This is just the theorizing stage.

He turns in his seat enough to look at Sobieski, emoting what makes you think that's not the case here as much as he can with a raise of his brows and thinning of his mouth. "We didn't all get leave." There's a hint of something knowing in his eyes as he elaborates, "Me 'n' Yves're sticking around for a while longer. Little side work while the bossman takes Squirt out on a rekkie."

[hvndredbattles]

@mvnces SENT “i've hit people for less.” FOR sobieski & singh

  Sobieski's tone gives him just enough reason for pause, a squint and cock of his head marking the beat where Singh otherwise might have spoken. “I can't tell if that's meant to be reassurance for me or a threat.” He slides the little plate of dessert back across the table. “I did ask if you were gonna eat it.”

[hvndredbattles]

@lovedbyaster SENT “you wanna talk about loyalty?” FOR owen & dealer's choice (singh)

sender note: lksjdflksjs he is outmatched and does not know it

  “Oh, aye, you think I don't know it?” Singh doesn't make an effort to keep his voice down any, though this might not be a conversation Strand wants ears on with the way it's bound to go down.

  Noel Singh isn't the type to throw his military service, or what he's experienced and done during it, around. But he carries it, a proud set to his shoulders, arms folded across his chest, stood like a proper man with authority. “At the very least, I wouldn't air out my team's dirty laundry where just anyone could hear.”

[hvndredbattles]

revenge is the best medicine ! ( from Daisy, for Singh, unless someone else would be funnier )

Uh huh. ... She's bloody small by anyone's standards. Small and young. Legally an adult, sure, but still a child in the eyes of many. It's a combination of things that have his brows raising minutely. "Aye? And what's your plan for that, then?"

[hvndredbattles]

[ 18 ] a hilly, remote planet covered in grasslands - idk, toss me someone (LIV’S HOUSE IS WEIRD, SHE COULD OPEN A PORTAL TO SPACE I GUESS —)

"Uhhh, boss? There's... a house?"

"Come again?"

"There's a house. In the field. Four walls, wood roof, house, sir." And it sure as shit hadn't been any of their radar scans from touching down yesterday.

"Where?"

Singh takes several more cautious steps toward the porch, the hand not on his radio supporting the heft of his rifle. "About a klick north of the outpost. Sending my coordinates now." While he waits for Duke's response, he mounts the stairs, muzzle of his gun down, but ready to snap up if need be. "Hello?" This side of the planet is supposed to be uninhabited, and none of the sensors of his gear are pinging lifesigns. Abandoned?

"Right, I'm rerouting Bags and Squirt your way. Try not to get eaten before they get there."

"Aye, sir."

The door swings open just as his hand's leaving his radio. Not so abandoned.

His rifle doesn't stay pointed her direction long, however. Because she's dressed in the most bizarre fashion for settler life. What. The fuck? "... Ma'am?"