Alex shook the Admirals hand, wearing a wide grin, then snapped to attention and saluted. "Yes sir, right away!" With a somewhat stumbling attempt at turning on his heel, he left to get suited up.
A young, clean shaven man walks into the recruitment office. His clothes neat and smart, and his stance strong and tall. There is an aura of amazement about him, as if he was drunk on the wonders of the world and universe around him.
His face straightens as he pulls himself together when the recruitment officer looks up at him.
"20?" The officer says, slightly bemused. The boy looked to be about 18, 19.
"Yes sir. Just got away from my bloody family, sir. Wanted to return to Bretonia, where we came from, sir. I-" The young man replies before being cut off by the officer.
"Not to be rude lad, but name? Give your life story to one of the officers."
"Of course, sir. Rob Smith, sir." He replies, his face not showing any of the annoyance he feels in his gut.
"Right, straight through that door, take a seat, you'll be attended to shortly." The recruitment officer says, not even looking at Rob.
"Right sir. Thank you sir." He replied, before smartly following the instructions.
Current Characters
Ensign Robert Smith of the Bretonia Armed Forces - BAF|Ens.Robert.Smith
Freelancer Trader Carl Jones - The.Doncaster
Freelancer Mick Grahams, working for Falcon Enterprise - FE|Yorskhire.Rose
Admiral Andrews stifled a yawn at Farwell's story. He'd heard this story a thousand times. Still, nought to be done about it.
"Aight, Farwell, bugger off and get suited up. You were once very wealthy, but unfortunately lost everything you had, hmm...
It's either those whatsit, Good Old Boys in the Queen's Own... or the hard bastards in the Regulars..."
He grinned evilly at the fact that the poor sap didn't take a drink,
"You'll be assigned to Leeds' Regulars. Don't mind their language or drinking, I'm sure you'll fit right in, Ensign Farwell."
Andrews liked to screw things around a bit by having the two old divisions' usual recruits sometimes placed in the wrong unit. He honestly had a good reason for it, aside from the hilarity in the mess hall.
He then pushed the intercom, requesting the next gentleman be sent in, scanning a viewscreen for his name.
"Robert Smith, eh? What's your story?"
Before Mister Smith could begin, the unkempt Admiral, with what looked like a false beard, added,
"All right sir. My family originate from Leeds, sir. We moved when my dad thought he'd have better oppurtunities in Erie, sir. I was 15 at the time sir, and thoroughly disagreed with the move, sir. I'm not much of a fan of Liberty, sir, but I wasn't allowed to stay. Once I hit 20 I had saved enough for a ship to get off Erie, and I did, sir. I decided to return to my home systems, and now here I am, sir, I thought it best that I served Bretonia, sir."
He stopped, almost breathless, but again showing no signs of it. He watched the Admirals face closely for his reaction to what was pretty much Rob's life story summed up.
Current Characters
Ensign Robert Smith of the Bretonia Armed Forces - BAF|Ens.Robert.Smith
Freelancer Trader Carl Jones - The.Doncaster
Freelancer Mick Grahams, working for Falcon Enterprise - FE|Yorskhire.Rose
"Why do you prefer Bretonia, Leeds in particular, to Erie, kiddo?" asked the Admiral inquisitively, scratching at his beard and the stubble surrounding it.
The lad showed a little surprise at the question, and he blushed slightly as he answered.
"Well, sir, you may think me a bit queer, but, I love the smell of Leeds. It smells like..." He paused, as if searching his thoughts for the word. He then looked the Admiral dead in the eye. "It smells like Industry sir. And boy do I love that smell sir, feels like home."
Current Characters
Ensign Robert Smith of the Bretonia Armed Forces - BAF|Ens.Robert.Smith
Freelancer Trader Carl Jones - The.Doncaster
Freelancer Mick Grahams, working for Falcon Enterprise - FE|Yorskhire.Rose
"Aight, before you suit up, head to goddamn medical. You probably have lung cancer with all that 'industry' you've been inhaling. If you do have something really bad, we'll see about getting you a decent doctor, seeing as we'll need you shooting those ping-pong players from up North.
After you've been to medical, you'll be serving in the Queen's Own. Welcome to the Bretonian Armed Forces."
He reached his hand across the table, congratulating the new recruit.
![[Image: sig-9566.jpg]](http://www.clintonio.com/sig-9566.jpg)
