!!RXDkJssl8v6 10/31/11(Mon)19:05 No.16799750|
In the midst of the hammering, the rumble of the forges, and the raucous music of the emerging genre of "rock-and-roll" blasting through a radio placed absently on a workbench, a third figure stepped unnoticed into the backroom. She was short--around five five feet, with dark blonde hair and pale grey eyes. She took in the scene, bit by bit: the sweltering heat of the forges heated to mix the Ibonyte and metal to the right temperatures, the smell of cigarette smoke lingering in the air as some singer on the radio wailed about the troubles of loose women and addictive drugs as a guitar strummed in the background. She meandered about the room, eventually coming behind a workbench commandeered by a lone soldier, mumbling along to the radio as he stripped and reassembled the odd grenade launcher on the desk before him. "Excuse me!" She attempted to announce herself to the man hunched over the workbench. "I was told to report to a Private Paisley, and I was also told I could find him here!"
Paisley cocked his head up from the bench, looking back toward the young girl. Smiling, he stood and swiveled about to face her. "Ah! You must be the new squadmember I requested!" He let out a friendly smile as he extended his hand. "I'm Paisley. The guy over there hammering out the dents in his armor is Womack--don't worry about him too much, he's harmless. And you are...?"
"Genevieve Hadley--fresh from boot."
Paisley smirked. "Well, Miss Hadley, welcome to the unit." Paisley turned back to Womack. "Womack! Stop what you're doing for a second!"
"What is it now, man?! This is the fourth time you've interrupted my work in the last hour!"
"We got a new squadmate here--get her measurements and I'll fire up the forge to make another armor set."
"Why do I gotta do that?!"
"I wasn't the tailor before the war!" Paisley grinned as he turned back to the girl. "You'll get along just fine here, girl. Just fine."