Alert Station: Ortega's Bar and Grill.

[RmJ]

*Shows up at bar only to stare intently at all the young pilots*

Sporting a new cherry oak framed cane Gunnery Sgt Thomas appears to be a side show freak among a faceless crowd. His age is twice the majority of men and women who're LSF and Navy. He did not mind this fact because he is use to being alone. Years of the LSF service has rendered him a hermit when not forced to join into social environments. Not only that, but his ego is taller than the highest building on Planet Manhattan. His uniform, too, is two decades old. The cuts and design of the uniform is an comparison of a classic muscle car to a newer modern sports car. His hair cut was regulation of 786 AS versions the now more lax regulations of today. He is the pure symbol of the old LSF, a LSF that was more military than mall cops. At least as his described it to himself in front of the mirror before leaving. To him he has all the answers to the questions the LSF keeps asking. Spite all this he holds his tongue to every broken policy of the LSF by these new cadets and newer agents of the LSF. The longer he stands in one place the more notice he got from the younger generation. He smirks and has a seat at the stool bar.

Bar tender: What will you have Sir?
Thomas: The hardest sh** you have, and anything that will be against policy to drink. I haven't been given orders yet so no need to worry.


//ps :[ I hit post instead of preview soo.... actually content is being typed now. :l

---