!!0ZviLFh59My 05/01/12(Tue)20:27 No.18940409|
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"Crybaby," Stirling grunts, but his hand flies to cover his chest pocket protectively. And, presumably, his smokes. "Besides, Reggie never has problems getting whatever,so what are you worried about?"
Paddy's eyes slide towards a refined-looking man with a neat mustache quietly cleaning his weapon in one corner of what appears to be a hastily re-assigned office, still strewn with paperwork and desks.
The mustachioed man flashes him a shit-eating grin and produces a top-hat from beneath his desk, plopping it on his head at a rakish angle.
"He doesn't count," Paddy grumbles.
"So, what've they kept you busy with, pilot?" Other Stirling asks with curiosity.
"I..." you contemplate trying to sum up the events of the last several hours, and give up miserably. "Stuff."
"Mmmhmm. We're gearing up for an airdrop into East Anglia," Stirling tells you.
"No luck dislodging that bridgehead?"
"Unfortunately, no. The little green men are catching a hell of a flogging around London and the beaches south, but Anglia is theirs, and they don't feel like letting go."