Human Edge

It had been a rough landing, and the first hours of the day had been spent trying to pull everything he could together from gear and immediate triage around the crash site, making sure that the Mechs were secure and all the usual fun from an insertion gone bad. With that taken care of, and reports that the ice had been broken with the locals, Snorri had gone back to his bunk to try to get a bout of shuteye, relying on old soldierly skills of sleeping when and wherever you could get a free moment.

It made him easy to find.

Having helped soothe the arrival with the locals, in suitably unsubtle mechwarrior fashion, Bruun returned to the ship feeling extra confident in himself.

Finding Snorri sacked out in their room, he smiled and thought to leave the man alone, although they'd had little interaction for being roommates. The decision went out of his hands when his locker squealed unpleasantly as he opened it, and like a good sleeping soldier, Snorri was immediately alert.

"Bah," Bruun grunted at the old metal locker. "Sorry, Snorri, bad luck to wake a man in the middle of the day, eh?" He half smiles.

"Oh, and good work yesterday in the sim. When you took that first hit, I didn't think you'd be long for the fight."

Snorri yawns and stretches, sliding out of the bunk.

"'Ssss ok. Need to get up anyway."

Bruun was an alright most of the time, but suggesting that he would have been cooked in the sims was not the best way to wake up.

"'Preciate the vote of confidence there Bruun. You've been around the block a few times. They save the metal, not the meat. You only come back with it. "

"Well, I've outlived three downed mechs, and I figure on outliving more if I have to. Hoping the rest o'y'all do the same," he says, in a kind but 'I'm not much for warm and fuzzy feelings' kind of way.

"Oh, I should tell you, I borrowed your bottle of bourbon last night. Didn't end up using much, but I'll get you another as soon as we can find one. I doubt this backwater has much to offer in good booze," he admits pessimistically.

Snorri cocks an eyebrow. "You didn't have your own stash to dive into? Well, we're in town, so you'll have the opportunity to restock for I suppose. I'm not too picky. Consider an extra bottle as interest and payback." It's a statement spoken with surety. "I'd prefer you don't do it again"

"Oh, I did. Always keep a supply of ouzo and rectified spirit. But no bourbon, so I was fortunate you had some. Can't make a Davion PPC without it," he says with a chuckle, then looks like he realizes he said too much.

"Making a specific cocktail was that important to you? I mean, I like a fine drink whenever I can, but that seems to be pushing it." Snorri shrugs as he pulls on his boots, and prepares himself for the day. "What's a Davion PPC?"

"Uh, call it an experiment. Not the drink itself, but getting her to drink one. A Davion PPC is the same as a Kurita PPC, but cut with bourbon instead of sake," he shrugs, only marginally surprised Snorri hadn't heard of it. "I'm used to making Marik PPCs, which use ouzo. So I'm always ready for that," he smiles."

"Ahh yes. Growing up, they make a version with aqua vitae. Mixed with aqua vitae"

"Yeah. So I guess the experiment worked, I mean she drank it no problem, so..." Bruun scratches at his beard thoughtfully. "Lesson learned? Shoulda given her more credit?" he shrugs.