Konstantin tried not to stare as the burly marine dragged the man next to him into the recruitment office.
He also tried to avert his eyes when a pair of them in biohazard suits stormed by and then came out of one of the rooms with leftovers in a suitable container. God only knew what the Hell happened there, and as far as Kostya was concerned it ought to have stayed that way.
Another individual, as a matter of fact two, tried crowding towards one of the offices at the Next call. More people were filtering into the lobby even as this happened.
The man at the desk had fumbled around and had not budged from his position for a while.
Kostya gritted his teeth.
Initiative.
Taking to his feet, Konstantin walked over to the secretary's desk, taking a position in front of it that nearly shoved the other man over a meter.
"Excuse me, Ma'am," he began, "I'm sorry to not have introduced myself properly. My name is Konstantin Petrovin, a worker at the Zvezdny Gorodok Fighter Production Facility, assembly and testing wing. I was granted an allowance to make an application into the Fighter Corps and was sent here along with a supply ship to do so." He frowned a bit. "I'm not sure if any preparations got beyond that.. May I proceed?"
