12-03-2013, 04:01 PM
In light of Zokoskev's explanation, Torri regarded Michael in new light. Whether her opinion cast that light as flattering or insulting did not register in her expression. EoA command told her to enlist this man's help for strategic affairs, and that was exactly what Torri intended to do. And do a damn fine job of it too.
She cut both men a quick nod and moved to join them. Technically, she and Zokoskev were on equal footing despite the wildly differing patches on their arms, and the absence of firearm from her hip, but the fact remained that Torri was only a few years away from Major, whereas rumor had Zokoskev would be tredding water for a while. But advancement or not, she'd leave the targeting to more capable hands. Shit, it'd been a while since earning the sidearm ribbon, but the idea of tending bedside in a hot zone with one was bloody annoying, but necessary. She made a mental note to stop by the range tonight after checkout.
Suffice to say, there was a lot on her mind.
Upon sitting, she offered to shake hands with Michael before folding them in her lap. "And Dr. Weston will do, likewise." In all but formal circumstances, physicians were addressed by their professional title rather than rank. Secretly, they tend to prefer it that way. They worked harder for their title than their rank anyway. God knew Torri had. So it was fitting for this situation as well.
Now introductions were through, she realized Michael's youth was far more than she originally guessed despite the intensity of his gaze. And the accent clipped quite foreign. A once upon a time Australian cousin. Why that country hadn't signed up for common sense yet was beyond her. Further strange that the CCD trusted strategy to a young foreigner, but Torri wasn't queen of the world, let the CCD pick who they wanted. Whatever. All thoughts soaring behind an impassive face.
"I've been tasked with coordinating a contingency plan for medical care on behalf of anyone from the EoA while on tour through DV. From all levels of events from a fucking cold to a zombie apocalypse to assassination attempts. Supplies and personnel are easy, but if we're stuck in a hot zone for any length of time, shit piles up fast." She snickered all too familiar with piles of shit. Her first GMO tour was in the fucking jungle, after all. "That's where you come in." She turned to Michael.
She cut both men a quick nod and moved to join them. Technically, she and Zokoskev were on equal footing despite the wildly differing patches on their arms, and the absence of firearm from her hip, but the fact remained that Torri was only a few years away from Major, whereas rumor had Zokoskev would be tredding water for a while. But advancement or not, she'd leave the targeting to more capable hands. Shit, it'd been a while since earning the sidearm ribbon, but the idea of tending bedside in a hot zone with one was bloody annoying, but necessary. She made a mental note to stop by the range tonight after checkout.
Suffice to say, there was a lot on her mind.
Upon sitting, she offered to shake hands with Michael before folding them in her lap. "And Dr. Weston will do, likewise." In all but formal circumstances, physicians were addressed by their professional title rather than rank. Secretly, they tend to prefer it that way. They worked harder for their title than their rank anyway. God knew Torri had. So it was fitting for this situation as well.
Now introductions were through, she realized Michael's youth was far more than she originally guessed despite the intensity of his gaze. And the accent clipped quite foreign. A once upon a time Australian cousin. Why that country hadn't signed up for common sense yet was beyond her. Further strange that the CCD trusted strategy to a young foreigner, but Torri wasn't queen of the world, let the CCD pick who they wanted. Whatever. All thoughts soaring behind an impassive face.
"I've been tasked with coordinating a contingency plan for medical care on behalf of anyone from the EoA while on tour through DV. From all levels of events from a fucking cold to a zombie apocalypse to assassination attempts. Supplies and personnel are easy, but if we're stuck in a hot zone for any length of time, shit piles up fast." She snickered all too familiar with piles of shit. Her first GMO tour was in the fucking jungle, after all. "That's where you come in." She turned to Michael.