The sound of heavy, thick-soled boots on the hard floor echoed beyond the recruitment office. The pace was brisk and with purpose, heading up the steps towards the office door. The handle was turned and the door swung wide, a broad man entering the room. His features were worn and hardened, with a weathered, tanned complexion. He looked to be middle-aged, with dark brown hair sporting streaks of grey accompanied by a thick, full beard that was trimmed and neatly maintained. His apparel was fairly basic with a simple bandolier over his broad chest. As he approached the recruitment officer, he came to a halt, clasping his hands behind his back and widening his stance to shoulder-width.
The officer leaned forward, interlocking his fingers as he looked over the seasoned man."Name?"
"Richard Sterling, sir." The burly enlistee had the accent of a working man, but he articulated himself well and as formally as he could.
"What're you here for, Mister Sterling?"
"I'm here to enlist in the B.A.F, sir."
The officer leaned back into his chair, drawing up a flask hidden away in one of his drawers and taking a brief swig before looking back to Richard. "You're older than the average plucky enlistee who runs in here."He says bluntly.
"Aye, sir. I've been working for most of my life as a transport and freighter pilot and partially as a convoy escort on the trade lanes through Bretonia and Liberty. Currently flying a Firefly, but I can operate a fighter damn well if I say so myself, sir."Richard says with a hint of confidence.
"So why are you leaving that life behind?"The officer asks curiously, leaning forward again as his interest is piqued.
Sterling takes a deep breath, pausing for a brief moment as he ponders on the question.".. There comes a time in a man's life when he questions what he's doing -- where he's going. I want to do something that matters, that myself and my family will be able to take pride in."
The officer nods solemnly, rifling through the drawers as he prepares the forms. "Sign here, Mister Sterling and you'll need to fill out these forms."
Sterling approaches the desk, planting a calloused hand on the woodwork as he looks over the documents. Once everything was in order, the enlistee stood upright and looked to the officer. With the waving of a hand he was dismissed."Thank you, Mister Sterling. You'll be contacted promptly."
