[Tucker stopped as he walked by, eyeing the person working on the tools. The red scarf reminded him of Red team, and he wondered if she'd be more of a Sarge or a Simmons, then decided it was a stupid homesick thought and shoved it away. Lots of people wore red. Only the cool people wore teal. Blue. Aqua-ish. Whatever. His color.

The thump of the horse hooves caught him offguard, and he watched them go by with a skeptical look. Dude, just because they were on horseback they thought they were all badass, but how many chicks could you really pick up with a horse? Like two, max? Now tanks, tanks were way better. Not Pelican level, but better than this. Everyone knew tha--

Tucker heard that sound from the poor tool-polisher (Bow chicka bow wow), and looked back at her. That sound of longing, and--]

Hey, baby. [He took a seat next to her, all slick smiles and a little light in his eyes. It was this light that normally and frequently got him hit and/or maimed.] No need to sound so sad; I'm right here. [As if that had ever made anything better.]

Now, let's say you ditch this boring ass-- what are you even doing? - and we go find a place where I can help you make better noises instead?

[So it begins.]