Rose entered the recruitment center with strides of purpose and a haste that was reflected in her hurried scanning of the room. A groan of dismay escaped her lips as her gaze alighted upon the desk of Roger Hans; there was a queue - only in Bretonia.
To be fair, there was only four people waiting to collect their application forms, and one of those was dealt with almost instantly, but in the minute it took to send the next one off to fill in the paperwork, the stern blond woman was rapidly filling with impatiant rage. "There's a war going on, what kind o' a system is this?" she thought, though was vaguely aware that her discomfort was probably more to do with the strange feeling of solid rock under her feet.
She didn't bother waiting for the third applicant to be issued his forms. Cutting the line, she was about to make her demands of poor Hans when she was rudely interupted by the fellow she had just displaced.
"Do you mind? I think I was..." the tall, beefy chap began in protest. His words were abruptly cut off when Rose whipped around to glare at him. Her scowl was impressive, and the ferocity of her gaze was barely diminshed by the fact she had to crane her neck slightly to meet that of the complainer. A silent battle was fought, eyes locked together for a drawn out second, but her victory was confirmed when the man took a half step backwards. "Another minute won't kill me", the movement of the man's feet said. "But you might" said the twitch in his cheek.
Rounding on Hans, the voice that issued forth matched her angry face. Ayr is not a place famed for pleasantries.
"Right. I'm here tae apply. These the forms? This one? And this one? Right, I'll just be a wee minute." Without bothering to get confirmation, or even for poor Hans to offer said forms, she snatched the paperwork up and hurried over to a desk to begin scribling furiously.
Quote:Name: <strike>Roisin</strike> Rose McBride
Gender: Female
Age: 23
Place of Birth: Planet Ayr
Nationality: Bretonian
Height: 162 cm
Weight: 61 kg
History: I've been piloting for as long as I remember. My father used to let me take the helm of his frieght runner when I was very young, so I've always felt at home in a cockpit. This was before he was arrested for Artifact smuggling, after which I stayed with my uncle, operating out of Leeds. He was a Freelancer, so I didn't get to go out with him much, but he gave me a taste of flying a combat vessal when he let me fly his CSV; I was assured the resultant damages to shipyard Norfolk wouldn't go on my record - I was only 12.
After my uncle was blown up for associating with the Mollys, I was cut off from space until I was old enough to apply for the Police Authority training program, where I graduated with honors. I've been serving the BPA for nearly 5 years now.
Combat experience: In my years of service with the BSA I've engaged in combat countless fighters belonging to the Mollys, Corsairs and Gaians, as well as dealing with a few hacked lanes. I can fly most light to heavy fighters, with most of my combat piloting being done in a Crusader.
Reason why want join Bretonia Armed Forces: Corsairs and Mollys are small fish. With the Kusari knocking on our jumpgates, I'm certain my talents would be better served in the Armed Forces; Her Majesty needs all the skilled pilots Bretonia can offer.
Her hand moved at a lightning pace. Damn, how she needed to be back up in space already. How people could stand to live in natural gravity the whole of their lives was beyond her. She only paused once to shoot daggers at that rude man as he sat down at a desk a safe distance away from her.
"Done" she proclaimed as she dropped the completed forms back in front of Hans, once again ignoring the ineffectual queuing system. "Ye gonnae check it the now? C'mon, hurry it up!"
