"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.