mavicvirim:

“Something like that,” He repeated, more to himself than to Victus. “Indeed I do. Never made it far up the tiers myself but I’m content where I am, in fact there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Mavic glanced over at the man as he leaned against the wall, seemingly totally at ease but he’d always been a good read of character. Added to that Victus’ own words, his actions too  and he could draw his own conclusions. “I take it your new posting isn’t one you’d have chosen yourself?”

He began fitting pieces together. It was just a mold for now, for some reason he could identify as more than a feeling, Mavic wanted to build the man his gun from the ground up with the best material he had. That feeling said Victus would need it and Mavic always listened to his instinct.

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       His mandibles drew up slightly, even as he inclined his head in reserved confirmation; little gestures that were automatic, not even really meant to be seen.  “No, not something I would have chosen.  I miss the soldier’s life.  It’s…straightforward."  He might have said more, but he was not some drunkard down in his cups.  No more complaints.  Just shoulder the duty and move forward.

       Victus watched with interest.  He knew how to disassemble a pulse rifle and keep her gleaming, but rarely had he been given the opportunity to see one born.  Good barrel. It might compromise kickback but the firm stock makes up for it.  Rear sights to complement the fore sight– "You know how to make her sing.” He said approvingly, even as the inchoate mold began to take shape.

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