Home, Sweet Home... (Open)

[Ward, J.]

0630 Hours, April 1, 2543 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \
Ward Residence, Residential District A1, Saint Rose, Viary Territory, Reach, Epsilon Eridani System

Ward was about to murder someone.

No sooner, did it seem, that he had fallen asleep after a long night at one of the bars along the main strip of the entertainment district, he was forced to return to the land of the living. He glanced at the digital clock that sat on his nightstand and groaned. It was the ass-crack of dawn. Normally that would have been fine. In fact, normally he would have been late -- extremely late -- for morning muster, were he on base.

However, he was not on base. He was on leave, as part of a month long furlough before the entire division deployed to the front lines of the fight against the Covenant war machine. While Sergeant Stone would have rung his neck for waking up this late, there wasn't a damn thing anyone could do about it while he was at home. No one could chastise him for milking the opportunities he had on hand for everything they were worth.

Well, except for the fucker that had woken him.

"Dude, Jonny..." began Lance Corporal Jayson Furby, his best friend and the culprit behind his untimely awakening. "Your mom is... well, she's kinda hot."

Jon grimaced. Lance Corporal Avery, his other friend and the team's machine gunner, nodded with a grin. "Yeah, bro. Totally tapable."

Was this what they woke him for? To pester him about the attractiveness of his mother? If all they wanted to do is pine over his mother, he was going to tell them to work it out with his father or shut the hell up. At this point, all he wanted was to see the back of his eyelids and hear the gentle sounds of his fan blowing cool air down upon him.

And maybe dream about something nice, like murdering his friends and compatriots for being inconsiderate pricks.

One could dream.

"Is that all you wanted to tell me? That my mom is fuckable?" he asked with an air of irritation.

Avery shook his head. "I almost forgot to tell you your girl is outside."

Suddenly, any exhaustion or traces of a hangover (he'd had a bit to drink the night before) washed away in the blink of an eye as he sat up. "Charlene is here?"

Furby nodded his head, grinning. "Yeah, and if you don't go out there and talk to her, we will."

"Snatch that shit up," Avery added, chuckling.

Normally that kind of talk would get under his skin. However, fortunately, Ward had tuned them out after Furby's affirmation that his girlfriend -- no, fiancé -- was standing outside the house waiting on him. He shot out of bed and broke for his door, not even caring that he was still dressed in the clothes he'd worn to the bar the night before.

It took him a minute to traverse the treacherous territory between his room and the front door downstairs. Stairs were, at this point, the bane of his existence. Something told him he was still a little buzzed from all of the drinking. A fifth of Vodka tended to do that.

At least, for rookie drinkers such as himself.

Jon unlocked the front door and watched as it slid open, revealing the blonde visage of Charlene Sanders in a pair of jeans and a tight-fitting t-shirt. "Charlene? What're you doing here?" he asked, confused.

His fiancé smirked. "You don't remember the drunk texts you sent me?"

He shook his head. Charlene chuckled. "You texted me like six times last telling me you were at the bar with your buddies, and hitting on me like you wanted to have some alone time. Anyway, long story short, your buddies called me and said you'll probably have a nasty hangover, and that I should take care of you."

That made Ward smile. He had not been expecting such an act of kindness from his friends. "Oh, and your friend said something about having a large penis or something?"

Goddammit. And just like that, they had ruined it. "Those assholes," Ward murmured. No matter what was going on, they couldn't resist hitting on his girlfriend. Ever since leave began and he had offered the two of them to stay over at his house, he'd learned that he could tolerate them for brief periods of time outside of the Marine Corps environment.

They were animals. Plain and simple.

[Furby, J.]

Lance Corporal Furby snickered as Ward left the room, shaking his head. Ever since their leave had began three weeks ago, he and Lance Corporal Avery had stayed over his house with him and his family. The experience overall turned out not to be quite as dull as he had imagined it would be, and it was a nice getaway from the Marine Corps and all of its BS.

Despite all the gruff he gave his friend, he was thankful the man offered to have him and Avery stay with him. Despite being on leave, the tickets to Tribute were outrageously expensive -- a side effect of the turbulent economic times, what with the war going on -- and his family didn't have faith that the Marine Corps would allow him to travel half way across the Epsilon Eridani system just to see them for a few weeks.

So, he'd been feeling a bit homesick. Staying with Ward had helped to somewhat assuage some of that, despite the fact he had no intentions of telling his friend that. Jayson belonged with First Team, and up until recently First Team had belonged to now-Sergeant Davis. First Team never showed weakness, and this was one of those situations where he did not intend of letting anyone see just how much he wanted to be home and with his own family.

Letting those thoughts float away down the rocky river of his mind, he turned his attention to his best friend. First Team's resident psychopath... next to Corporal Faust. "You know what we're doing today, dude?" Furby inquired, curious to see if any sort of plan had been drafted.

Avery shrugged. "I dunno, bro," the machine gunner replied. "I got this girl's number at the bar last night. I've been thinkin' about hittin' her ass up, y'know?"

Jayson chuckled. The woman he was referring to was a brunette that had been six sheets to the wind when she started talking to Avery. They started off with drinks and wound up on the dance floor for the better part of an hour. Furby knew she was gone when the three of them started to regale her with the story of the riot they had caused on the Vengeance. The poor, inebriated woman sat there smiling and nodding with the story, totally clueless as to what was going on, but still remained gung-ho about hanging out with the trio of Oscar Marines.

Probably a dependapotamus, Furby thought cynically. The thing that had tipped him off that she knew more than she was letting on was when, in their first interaction, despite her apparent inebriation, she was able to pick all three of them out as Marines. Not only that, she had called Ward a "boot."

Of course, no one called Ward a boot aside from Furby and Avery, and they were quick to correct her error in judgment. However, that said, it still concerned him that she even knew what a boot was, not to mention the fact she was able to use the phrase correctly in a sentence. While shit-faced, at that.

"Fuck that, dude," Furby retorted. "She's one of those benefits chasers, man. I'm telling you."

Yet again, Avery shrugged. "Doesn't mean I can't have a bit of fun before kickin' her to the curb."

"That's cold, dude!" He laughed, shaking his head disappointedly.

"I'mma heart breaker and a life taker, bro," Avery rebuttled. "It's what I do."

Before Jayson could conjure a response, there was a knock on the door. A second later, the door slid open, and in stepped Misses Ward, Jon's mother. She stood in the doorway, her shoulder length hair put up in a pony tail, smiling at them. "You boys interested in some breakfast? It looks like Jonathan is going to have some company over, so I cooked up enough eggs and bacon for everyone."

Lance Corporal Avery jumped to his feet. "I'll never turn down bacon, ma'am!"

And just like that, he was off. Furby nodded politely at Misses Ward. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you." Jayson stood up and followed the pair out the door.

[Wilkas, G.]

 Wilkas spent the first few hours trying to recall the events of the night, something about drinking, something... Something, then well waking up on the couch in Ward's house, in some pyjamas, under a blanket with her head resting on a comfortable, if fluffy pillow. With great difficulty the RTO managed to raise her head, blinking sleep from her green eyes. Her head pulsed with pain. Grace mentally made a note to never drink again, as well as vowed to never drink again with her friends. She stared at the unfamiliar house, taking in all of the decorations and objects, trying to mentally process everything. She gave up trying to process all of this. It might of been for the best to simply to forget about what occurred last night. There were somethings which the human mind was not equipped to cope with. She found a cup of coffee on the table in front of her and gratefully sipped it. Wilkas was surprised by the taste of it, the coffee happened to be just how the young woman preferred it. 

Ward's mother offered breakfast to her, which she accepted gratefully. She needed some food. Wilkas somehow managed to stand up, one hand holding the coffee mug, the other clasped around the blanket which trailed after her as she made her way to the table. Grace half sat, half collapsed into a chair. She sipped her coffee, desperately needing the energy provided by it. She wanted to close her eyes, to sleep, to rest for a bit longer. But there was only so long she could stay asleep on someone else's couch. Dimly, she wondered where her clothes might of ended up. She could see them no where nearby. 

She must of lost focus for the next moment Wilkas knew, there was a plate of sausages and eggs in front of her. Grace flashed Ward's mother a smile, looking over she spotted Furby and Avery. She flashed them a little grin. Her mind burned with questions, but presently she did not wish to ask or voice them. Perhaps they were better left unsaid. Wilkas instead turned her attention back to breakfast and the coffee. She ran a hand through her messy ginger hair, the fiery locks past regulation length. 
Grace picked up the salt and sprinkled it over her food, before beginning to cut the sausages and eggs up. She bit into one of the sausages, after sticking it with her fork. It tasted amazing, far better than any marine food she had consumed. It sang with flavour, she grinned. The first bite of food managed to somewhat revive her, enough to mutter a comment to Furby. "I see we all managed to survive." She chuckled slightly, before taking a bite of the eggs. 

[Furby, J.]

((OOC: Wilkas, I'm sowwy. I couldn't resist. See below!))

Furby found it exceedingly difficult not to tear into the steaming hot plate of food that had been set before him by Ward's mother, a fact that he found unnerving. Before he'd been drafted, he'd had no problem eating like a normal human being. It was as if the Marine Corps had erased his memory of a life prior to the military, and had reprogrammed him to devour his food like a rabid animal.

What made it worse was the fact that the eggs and sausage were seasoned to perfection. It reminded him of his own mother's cooking. Looking away from the plate of food, of which he'd already thoroughly put a dent in through the use of the Corps' mystical fuckery, he turned his attention to the man at the end of the table; the Ward head of household.

Ward Senior was an imposing individual. Though he was much older than Jonathan, the resemblance was uncanny. Ward's father was only slightly taller and boasted broader shoulders, his hair cut into a crisp high-and-tight -- likely a holdover from his time as a Marine. Though the man had a gut, Furby had no illusions that the man was in any way out-of-shape.

The moment Ward had introduced he and Avery to his father, Jayson got the vibe that the man was much more fierce than he let on. In fact, he knew that if they overstepped even an inch, they would suffer a wrath so gruesome and unholy it'd make the Covenant grimace. Hell, probably even Sergeant Stone.

To make matters worse, every time the pair even looked in his wife's direction, Ward Senior's eyes were glued to them like a hawk observing its prey. It was unsettling.

Very unsettling.

Pushing that aside, Furby assessed the other occupants at the Ward's dining room table. Seated to his left was Avery, whom quietly ate his food, whilst occasionally making a sound that, taken out of context, happened to sound vaguely sexual. Seated to Jayson's right was PFC Wilkas, whom had tagged along on their bar-hopping escapades the previous evening.

Jayson's eyes directed themselves across the table where Ward and his fiancé sat, eating together whilst talking amongst themselves and his parents. The conversation was fairly typical; the kind anyone would expect from a family having breakfast together. A lot of it was directed at Jonny, as his parents berated him with inquiries as to how the couple's wedding planning had been going.

Distracting him from this was Wilkas, whom muttered quietly to him as the others carried in, oblivious. He nodded, though part of him wondered how much of last night did the Russian redhead really remember. "It was... an interesting night," Furby replied with a slight nod.

Before Grace had a chance to respond, Avery opened up his big, fat mouth. "Watchin' y'all make out was definitely interesting, dog."

Jayson immediately noticed that the conversation around them had come to a screeching halt. All eyes at the table were now upon them, and it made the marksman mildly uncomfortable. An awkward silence reigned over the table, and all Furby could manage to do was look down at his food, which suddenly did not seem as appetizing.

"That's cute," Cynthia, Ward's mother, said.

Charlene, Ward's fiancé, nodded. "Yeah. I'd like some more details," she added, much to his chagrin. "Jon never mentioned anything about that."

What was happening right now? Jayson felt like he'd left reality behind and fallen into some sort of weird, uncomfortable dream. It would almost be comical, were he a bystander watching from the sidelines. However, he was not.

He and Wilkas were now the center of attention.

And Senior was staring at them.

"Fraternizing, Lance Corporal?" the man said in a stern, almost chastising tone.

Yet again before Furby could respond, Cynthia jumped in. "Oh, lighten up, Michael."

What the fuck was going on? Had he entered the twilight zone? This could not have been happening. It must have been a dream. It must have.

Of course, he knew the truth was that it wasn't. The previous evening, as Furby fueled up on liquid courage, he'd flirted with Grace for most of the night and bought her drinks. After all this time of admiring her from the sidelines, he'd actually acted on his feelings for once.

And they hadn't made out. It had been a kiss. A long, deep kiss; but, a kiss nonetheless. At that point Wilkas had been pretty hammered, and likely had forgotten the whole thing had even happened. It lasted only a few seconds, and aside from dancing together at the bar, nothing else had happened. Things went no further.

Admittedly, much to his chagrin, but it was what it was.

"Sorry, bro," Avery muttered under his breath as Jayson stared daggers into his eyes. None of this would be going on had he not said a word.

"Don't apologize, son," Ward's father said, apparently having heard Avery's apology. "It's a sign of weakness. Even if you did just blue falcon your buddy."

What a start to a day...

[Wilkas, G.]

Wilkas' jaw fell open in surprise and shock, fortunately it was empty of food. "W... What?" She said in a tentative voice, feeling her cheeks grow hot with embaressment. She too had notice how suddenly, the conversation at the table had grown rather silent. Suddenly, she felt all too awake. Maybe things would of been easier if she had decided to stay on the couch and sleep a bit more. She looked around the room, finding much to her chagrin, everyone was either looking at her or Furby. But she couldn't object it, she barely recalled anything from last night. Okay, Furby may of brought her a couple of drink, okay so she may of grown flirty with him and kept hugging him. Yet, beyond that she did not really remember all too much. "Erm..." She began, feeling alarm grow in her chest, like the desperate beating wings of a trapped bird. "I... I am sure it was a good time." With that she glanced down at her food, avoiding looking at anyone. Strangely, no longer felt as hungry as she had a few moments before. There were worse things right? At least worse things to of done on a night out.

"Blue falcon?" Grace echoed, unfamiliar with the term. Part of her wanted to ask if she may be excused from the table. Yet, somehow she suspected that they would not let her escape that easily, nor evade the questions. Wilkas remembered very little from last night, now that she was feeling a bit more awake, her mind managed to recall little snatches of it, but nothing overly concrete. Drinking with her friends, stealing a certain piece of technology from Ward to send a flirty text from Ward to Charlene. That was funny, or she dimly felt as though she found the idea funny at the time. Well if he hadn't wanted a very tipsy RTO to send the message then he shouldn't of left it with her. Accidentally, because it fell out of his pocket. Now it embarrassed her and she regretted it. A lot of the night recalled spending time with Furby, dancing... Which normally required a team of four to drag her onto the dance floor, kicking and screaming in protest. It felt strange not being able to remember much about the previous evening. Yet, she was not normally a big drinker.

At least, on the plus side at least this had not happened at her home. If it had... Well, there would of been hell to pay. Not only from her friends, but especially for Furby and herself. They probably would not of even been allowed in, what with everyone probably having drunk a little too much. It was a positive at least, that the Ward family seemed somewhat more relaxed than her own. Though such a thought did little to improve matters terrible. 
What if the rumours were true? That Furby did have feelings for her? This probably would not of helped matters for him at all. A make out session that she did not remember, the flirting, the hugging. What were her own feelings towards him? Too many questions, no known answers and not enough time to think of them or search for them. 

[Ward, J.]

Ward felt like a fish out of water as he was berated with questions regarding his and Charlene's engagement. It seemed like with every breath his mother took, another question escaped her lips. Were they going for a big wedding or a small one? When was the wedding supposed to happen? Had they picked out a color scheme?

All of these questions, and more, made his head spin. When he'd proposed to Charlene, he hadn't expected the process of marrying her would be so damn stressful. While his mother seemed intent on knowing every last minute detail about their wedding plans, Charlene's parents seemed to be much more relaxed about the subject. Charlene's father had even told them not to stress out about the ordeal, and to take their time with it. Her mother pledged to help any way she could, but only if she was asked to do so.

If given a choice at the moment, he was leaning towards staying at her parents house for the remainder of his leave. The only thing that kept him from doing so was that his parents actually allowed them to sleep together, while Charlene's enforced a strict separate room policy.

Shaking his head as yet another question burst from his mother's mouth, he stabbed his fork into a sausage and ate it whole. "Chew your food, Jonathan," his mother harped, before returning her attention to Charlene.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied begrudgingly. He couldn't help it if every instinct told him to gobble his food up seconds. The drill instructors that commanded his platoon in Boot were to blame for that particular habit.

Ward canted his head towards his fiancé and smirked at the expression on her face as she looked back at him. It seemed that his mother was getting under her skin as well. In an effort to console her, and keep her from snapping at the woman whom had birthed him, he took her hand in his own. The gesture forced her to smile, and that was all he needed to see to know she would be alright.

Part of him wished he'd had her around on Melfa. Something about her always seemed to calm him in a way that no one else could. He loved having her close to him, and despised every second that they were apart. When he deployed, he'd hardly had any contact with her.

Of course, part of that was his fault. He was, after all, complicit in an incident that landed Oscar Company in the freezers for the better part of their journey. The brass had decided it was perhaps best if Oscar and November Companies gave each other a wide berth, and on a naval vessel, there was no other feasible way to make that happen then to turn them into icecicles for an extended period of time while the other moved freely, and vice versa.

Though, despite that little snag, Ward still felt it was worth it. He'd had a lot of fun during that party, and so had his teammates. Gaining a reputation as legends amongst the Marines aboard ship was only a fringe benefit of such an escapade, and First Team had managed that particular feat with little real effort. All they had to do was run from the MAs and ambush them at every turn, and that plan had worked flawlessly until the bastards managed to force their way into the simulator control room.

Even still, First Team had not gone down without a fight.

That was how legends were made.

Ward was returned to the present by the sudden silence of the dinner table before him. The lack of conversation was the first indicator that something was wrong, and immediately his mind went into overdrive. Why had everyone gone silent? What was going on? How come all eyes were on Jay and Grace?

The answer to his query came in the form of his father remarking upon what he perceived to be fraternization. That remark triggered the memories of the night prior, when Furby and Wilkas had shared a kiss whilst being almost entirely inebriated. Such an act had surprised Ward when he witnessed it but it seemed that Wilkas had kissed back, so he assumed that meant she had been just as interested as Jay had been.

Who was he to break up a good thing? If the two were happy, and mutually consenting adults, he saw no problem with it. Besides, after the whole Cruz debacle, Jon personally felt Jay was an improvement. And every one in First Team knew (minus Faust) that the marksman was infatuated with the ginger-headed Russian draftee.

Seeing as how things had taken an awkward twist, Jon did exactly what any good friend did when their friends were in trouble. Redirect attention to himself. "So, I was thinking the wedding could be in Viségräd. It's nice out there, and dad and I know some good places where we could set-up for an outdoor wedding."

And just like that, all eyes were back to him, and the elation on his mother's face told him he had about another hour and a half of questions lined up. Avery smirked and nodded to him, mouthing "Good one, Fox" when no one was looking.

It was what friends do. He wasn't ashamed of it.

Though silently, he cursed himself for it.

[Furby, J.]

Jayson nearly exhaled a sigh of relief when Ward ensnared the focus of the table onto him, saving both himself and Wilkas from, by far, one of the most awkward conversations of their lives. He glanced at Grace, whom seemed to be hiding her face as much as possible from the rest of the table; no doubt out of embarassment. All because Avery had to open his big fat mouth.

Honestly, sometimes the guy forgot to think before he spoke. Or, he forgot his audience. Either way, he'd made poor judgment, and now Furby had the feeling Ward's father would be even more keen on keeping an eye on them. The man legitimately terrified him in a way that not even Sergeant Stone could. He'd seemed rather unhappy with the fact that Jonny had brought his friends with him on leave, and only marginally tolerated their presence under his roof.

Furby was under the impression the man was bitter about no longer being an active duty Marine, and thus took his frustrations out on any Marine that wasn't his son. He'd even noticed the man seemed to be a totally different person when he believed to be alone with his son, or his wife. When he was around the likes of Furby and Avery, he acted like the typical lifer SNCO.

Only scarier.

Setting that thought aside for later consideration -- or complaining -- Furby looked back at Grace as the others continued to pester Jonny and his fiancé with questions that everyone but his parents knew they had little answers to. Leaning in towards her, he said, "Can we talk?"

He spared a glance in Avery's direction, whom suddenly had found renewed interest in everything other than what his friend was doing, before looking back to Ward's parents briefly. "May I be excused?" he inquired as politely as he could manage, having tried his best to interject without cutting anyone off that may have been speaking.

Ward Senior's eyes turned back to him for a moment, as if suddenly remembering that he was there, before nodding his head. However, Furby didn't move until Jon's mother verbally responded in the affirmative. Pushing himself away from the table, Furby slowly navigated his way through the Ward household to the back porch, where he took a seat on the steps that led to the Ward family's spacious backyard.

Hopefully Grace would be right behind him. He was sure there were questions she'd have for him, and he felt he had some explaining to do.

Privately.

[Wilkas, G.]

 She looked up when Furby whispered a question to her. Grace nodded the once, uncertain as to what they happened to have to talk about. After all, she barely recalled most of the night. It happened to largely be a blur to her. Wilkas waited a while longer before asking for herself to be excused from the table. She had not wanted to interrupt the conversation. "May I also be excused?" She asked quietly and once ascent was given, Wilkas stood up from the table following Furby. Her heart pounded in her chest, nervously she wondered what he wished to speak to her about. It would more than likely be about the events of last night, however Grace struggled to glimpse even the brief fragments of the last night. She ran a hand through her long ginger hair and she stepped onto the porch with Furby at the back of her house. The red head sat down next to Furby. "A.. Are we going to talk about what happened last night?" She asked him, her voice quiet as she stared down at the ground. "I... I don't really remember too much. It's been a long time since I've got that..." She paused as she searched for the right word. "I... Guess that merry?" Grace sighed, wondering if the conversation in the house still happened to be on wedding plans, or the young girl and boy at the back of the house. She hoped it would still be on the former. Wilkas hated being the centre of attention, regardless of the reason. "I... I'm sorry I kissed you. I... I... Don't want you to get mixed signals." She swallowed. "Relationships are difficult... I... I don't think I am cut out for them." Grace liked Furby, but she did not want to lead him on or cause him to get removed from the platoon. She blamed herself for that still, even if it felt like a lifetime ago. Worse, what if she got killed or Furby did. Then, whatever future they thought of or talked about would never come true. Surely humanity would win this war, but would they all still be around to see the victory? "What if one of us gets killed?"

[Furby, J.]

Furby listened to Wilkas' rambling quietly as he tried to put together the rampant thoughts that swam through his tired mind. The last twenty-hours had been taxing, to say the least. All of the drinking, dancing, and general revelry had taken a toll on him. He hated to admit it, but he was exhausted.

And with the cat out of the bag, he only felt more drained. Avery really had screwed him. Now he had to deal with this situation; which, before, he wouldn't have needed to. Wilkas could have carried on in blissful ignorance, and he could keep his feelings private.

Well, partially so. First Team were well aware of his feelings for the woman. It was no secret he'd had a thing for her since she joined the unit. He'd never had the courage to tell her, and after the whole Cruz debacle, he'd decided that it was best that he didn't. That incident still stung, no matter how much he tried to deny it. Even after a year, he still couldn't believe the red head would have been so foolish as to enter into a relationship with a Staff NCO.

Jayson sighed after Wilkas finished. "Jesus, Grace," he said, shaking his head, "here I thought I was a pessimist."

The thought had never really occurred to him. Truthfully, she had a point. The life expectancy of a Marine in a combat unit was not very high, and it seemed that it was only a matter of time before their luck ran out. One could only cheat death for so long. Especially in their line of work.

However, as he thought about it, he realized he didn't care. "Who gives a shit? I'm not gonna put my life on hold because I could die at any second. I didn't choose to be a Marine, and neither did you. If we're gonna die, why not enjoy what life has to offer before it's too late?"

"I like you, Grace," Furby continued. "I've always had a thing for you, and I think you have feelings for me too. You ever heard the saying 'drunk words are sober thoughts?' Well, actions speak louder than words. Much louder."

He paused for a second, trying to come up with an adequate end to his speil. Something moving and thought provoking. "We have a lot in common, and I don't see how it would hurt to give things a shot. Fuck the Marine Corps and what anyone else thinks. I only care about what you think."

[Wilkas, G.]

She shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe..." Grace sighed, like him she had been conscripted and told or rather made to fight. Her life before the UNSC recruited her hadn't been that great. But it was better than the risk of being killed on the frontline or what, back then happened to be an all too distant war. Sadly now it was an all too close war.  The red headed radio operator lent against him, the warmth of his body felt comforting, relaxing. She listened quietly to his own argument on the matter. His words possessed more than their fair share of truth. Grace did not know what to say so simply stayed where she was. Eventually, Wilkas managed to voice some type of response to it. "It's a lot to take in... I..." She swallowed. "I don't really know what to make of it all." The young woman fell silent again before saying. "I... I'm not saying that we are, but say if we were even though we aren't... Would it be an relationship? One which we aim for something..." She let out a deep breath, looking pained as if the word she wished to say was physically painful to voice. "A future." She found it difficulty, if not impossible to imagine a future, for herself or for anyone. Would humanity manage to win this war? Or would the UNSC be defeated by the merciless alien enemy? The latter thought left her terrified. 

[Furby, J.]

Furby pondered over the question long moment, the heavy hand of silence looming over them. What were his intentions exactly? Was he seeking a relationship with her, or did he hope for something far more casual? After all this time, he realized, he'd never given it much thought.

Truthfully, he'd never planned to say anything to her about how he felt. Since Wilkas had joined, he'd felt something for her. Perhaps it was the fact that they had something in common, what with being unwilling participants in a war they hadn't asked to be a part of. That shared experience seemed like a good basis for, at the very least, a friendship.

But a friendship was something they already shared. And Furby, over time, had come to desire more than that from the woman. Not that he wasn't satisfied with her friendship; some form of a relationship was better than none at all. However, his feelings were stronger than that.

"Yeah," he said quietly, giving her a single nod of his head. "That's what I want."

He paused for a second, wracking his brain to come up with something meaningful to say on the subject. "Look, I know that the future is uncertain, but... I'd rather shoot for the moon and only reach the stars than to play it safe and stay on the ground. I know the future is uncertain; but, no matter what happens, I'd rather find out what the future holds with you."

No sooner had the words left his mouth did his anxiety begin to rise up from the deepest, darkest recesses of his soul. Had he come off too strong? How was she going to digest what he said? His head filled itself with a number of worst case scenarios. They played before his eyes like a movie he couldn't pause.

He exhaled a heavy sigh. Whatever happened, it'd do him no good to stress over it. What was done was done, and the ball was now in her court. As she leaned against him, he wrapped his arm around her, and admired the crimson locks of hair that framed her face. Normally, her hair was up in a bun, per regulation. Seeing it like this was... refreshing, to say the least.

Wilkas was a beautiful woman, and there was nothing about her he did not like. She wasn't perfect, by any means, but neither was he. The best part was that there would be no threat of punishment should they become an item, as technically she fell outside of his chain-of-command just as he was outside hers. With that little loophole, they could not be charged with fraternization.

Which was the last thing she needed given what had happened between her and Gunnery Sergeant Cruz. That whole debacle still left a sour taste in his mouth.

Thankfully, it was in the past, and would stay there.

[Wilkas, G.]

Wilkas was silent, saying nothing as she lent against him. She felt comforted by his arm around her. He wanted something serious, something... Something with some meaning, a purpose. Grace wanted that with him. She did not want just the mere desire of it. She walked that path before and it led to serious issues within the company. Grace wondered if such a particular part of her past troubled him. She hoped not. "M... My past does... Doesn't bother you?" She asked in a trembling voice as if fearing the answer would be a negative one. "It was a mistake... I... It's not something that I would of normally done." She unfortunately had come to terms with it. There were always more pressing worries and with the threat of dying or worse, such a thing felt like a minor thing strangely. Still to some it might of been a distasteful piece of background information about the young redhead. "I... I'd like a future with you." She added in a soft voice as if afraid of being overheard. There was no other way to say it. For a brief moment, Grace allowed herself to imagine some peace time life with him. The war over, the Covenant defeated, a victory parade or celebration. Her and Furby, the war must end at some point right? The alien menace would be defeated, humanity simply could not afford to lose this fight.