Leif looked around the waiting room, as an explosion rocked the bulkhead he was propped against. Small trickle of blood passing under half closed door, and stench of fired weapons, burning cloth, blood and gore wafting trough the area.
There he sat, with half finished papers looking at other survivors, pondering what lies behind each exterior.
There was him of course... son of an commemorated and long retired coalition officer. His foot still throbbed from pain. But he dared not show any of it.
Across the room was burly fellow, named Kasimierz. He would most certainly fit an marine or maintenance crew member description. Certainly not someone to cross easily.
Limping as well, from nasty gun shot wound, Dasha has just stepped out of the commissars office, with papers non the less. Seems only female to pass the rigors of the dreaded representatives of the party. She might end up secretary before she even makes it to the cockpit... ah well, at least an eyecandy cant hurt now and then.
Finally he took an measure of Nikolai, grinning young man in fancy suit. He didnt feel like an pilot either... maybe he was shooting for an career as diplomat, or politician. Who knows... slimy looking at best... he would look more suited for an libertonian company representative than one of the coalition. But, its commissars choice. Odd as it is.
With that Leif would simply nod to the trio politely and return back to his papers, wishing to fill them out as best as he could.
