A Business Trip

[Marcus Foster]

Marcus hated travelling.  Nothing ever seemed to work out as planned especially when it was business.  Even when his orders in the Army had him bouncing between various posts within the US it never failed that something would get fucked up.  Working for Bellefonte did nothing to change that.  It wasn't so much that the official at BA who managed such things were incompetent, it was simply a matter of there being so many moving parts when it came to business expenses something always fell through the cracks.

"No, look, I get it."  Marcus sighed and shook his head.  He wasn't in the mood for this shit even though he wasn't about to take it out on the hapless clerk behind the counter of the hotel lobby.  She hadn't been the one who booked the room reservations and there was only so much that could be done at the ungodly hour Marcus and Angela Knight  were checking in at.  He glanced to his younger partner (Assistant?  Understudy?  Trainee?) and shrugged apologetically before turning back to the clerk.  "We'll take the one room for tonight and we'll get everything straightened out tomorrow."

In truth, Marcus didn't really care one way or the other.  He'd dealt with much worse sleeping assignments in far more volatile environments than a hotel in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.  He just hated it when things didn't go as planned and he sure as hell wasn't going to shell out his own money for an extra room.

Once the papers were signed and the room keys handed out, Marcus offered the clerk a smile and a thankful nod before hefting his large bag over his shoulder and started through the hotel lobby in the direction of the elevators.  "Looks like we're roommates tonight."  He said, his voice even and calm.  "I hope that's not a problem."

[Angela Knight]

The girl was tapping her fingers against the counter impatiently as she waited for Marcus to sort everything with the clerk. She did bother to hide her annoyance. Thank god it was Marcus who was talking it over with the lady because Angela certainly was not up for it.

The moment they arrived at the hotel, all she wanted to do was straight check into her room and read a book or something till the sun comes up but then this little "misunderstanding" happen. Urgh. She knew she should have made the reservations herself instead of letting someone else do it. Some things just can't be done properly if you did not do it yourself. That was what the twenty one year old was thinking at the moment.

Angela forced a half smile out once the paperwork was done. "Yeah, thanks," she muttered. She took her bag and followed her partner. "Don't worry about it. It ain't our fault," she said flatly, turning to him after pushing the button for the elevator. If she had a problem with it, she was sure she would have demanded the clerk to make another room for them. "Worst things could have happen?" She shrugged.

Once the elevator doors opened, she stepped in. "Floor?" she asked, realizing she was caught up in being annoyed with not booking the rooms herself that she did not pay attention to which room they were checking into.

[Marcus Foster]

"Oh. Third." Marcus exhaled sharply as he trudged into the elevator after Angela. He'd had a few drinks on the plane (which is why he'd handed the keys to the rental car to her) and was looking forward to stretching out somewhere in the hotel room. He really didn't care about sharing a room. Shit happened. As long as he had a roof over his head and coffee in the morning he was going to be just fine. It was his junior colleague he wasn't so sure about. She didn't seem the type to get all awkward and weird but he'd also never spent the night in the same hotel room with her before.

"Eh, it's not so bad." Marcus mumbled mostly to himself. He was cranky from the day of travel, delayed flights and now botched hotel reservations. He'd pocketed a few of the small bottles the stewardess on the plane were selling and had even stopped by a small store selling wine in the airport. He wasn't usually a wine drinker but as a soldier he took pride in making due with what he was given.

"I think we're good until about noon tomorrow." The details needed to be thrown out before Marcus could fully settle down. He walked into the room and immediately set his large pack on the floor and opened one of the large pouches on the side, withdrawing what looked to be a sort of camouflage patterned blanket thing. "So I don't know about you..." The 'blanket' was spread out across the floor in far corner of the room before Marcus dug around in the same side pouch. He held up a hand, a quartet of small liquor bottles clenched between his fingers. "But I'm gonna forget this whole damn day."

[Angela Knight]

Not so bad? Well, that was what she would say too. She took in the room, noting the one bed and a few other furniture. She sat her bag down by the chair near the window and plonk herself down on it. Ah, it felt good not to be standing - not that she had been standing much, but travelling in general especially in the day had tire the girl.

If it were not for her power, Angela was sure she would have fallen asleep right there and then. Eyes opened, she watched her partner as he set up his blanket thingy out. At the sight of the bottles of liquor, the corners of her lips turned up. She reached a hand out. "I'll be 21 in a couple of months but you don't mind giving me one now do you?" she asked with a raised brow.

[Marcus Foster]

Under most circumstances Marcus was your everyday, average, law abiding citizen. He'd spent over a decade and a half under the intense scrutiny of the US military's strict rules and regulations with nary a mark on his record. He certainly wasn't a proponent of underage drinking in the slightest but the alternative was him drinking by himself and that wasn't an option. Anyway, it wasn't as if they were going to be running around all night causing trouble. A couple drinks in a hotel room to relax after a day of travelling never hurt anyone.

Marcus gave a bit of a snort before dropping his eyes to the bottles in hand. He looked over the labels a moment before replying to Angela's question. "Are you feeling... vodka, rum or whiskey?" He asked though he didn't really wait for much of an answer as he casually tossed each bottle in Angela's direction as he named them off. Once the last one was sent hurtling through the air he turned his attention back to his pack. "Or this?" And with that he withdrew the bottle of wine he'd picked up on the way out of the airport. Yes. Marcus took his drinking very seriously.

[Angela Knight]

If Angela really wanted to have a drink, she probably did not have to bring her age up and hope her partner would not question it and trust her enough that she can have one. The thought of course crossed her mind but she knew that was not a good impression to be giving. Plus, it would give her a chance to see a bit what kind of a person Marcus was.

A mischievous smile slowly crept onto her lips when she realized she was going to get it. When he did toss the bottles at her however had caught her by surprise. She tried catching them all and somehow she managed to. Angela chuckled when he brought the wine out. "When did you find the time to get them?" she asked rhetorically, figuring he must have gotten them while she had gone to get their rental car or something.

"I think I'll have the... Whiskey." After deciding on her poison, Angela then tossed the other two bottles back at him like he did to her before leaning back in her seat again. "So what's your story?" she asked while opening her bottle.

[Marcus Foster]

There was no small amount of amusement gleaming in Marcus' eyes as he watched the tiny plastic bottles hurtle through the air at the unsuspecting recruiter. It brought back fond memories of nights with the guys back in the barracks only the bottles thrown at each other weren't of the small, plastic variety one usually found on flights, rather the full size, glass deals found in liquor stores. "A little sweet talk to the stewardess goes a long way." Was as detailed as Marcus would get.

Within moments a pair of plastic cups provided by the hotel were unwrapped and waiting in case they needed to get into the wine. Marcus was something of an adept when it came to making himself at home in even the worst conditions. It seemed to have taken him just mere seconds before he was sitting up against his large pack, comfortably beneath the camouflage liner as if he didn't plan on leaving. "Story?" He repeated, glancing over to Angela curiously. He screwed off the cap to one of the small liquor bottles and downed the contents without bothering to read the label first.

"Alright." Marcus said, exhaling sharply at the deep burn of alcohol. His hands came to rest upon his lap and he looked up to Angela. He was used to the looks. There weren't many people out there with his odd quirks, morbid sense of humor and heavy tattoos that didn't have some sort of a story. Details, though, weren't his strong suit. "Not much to tell." He said with a shrug. "Spent some time in the Army, got out last year and started at the Academy." Came the vague answer.

[Angela Knight]

The girl was obviously not as adept as her partner. Admittedly, seeing how comfortable Marcus looked made her a little envious. Not because he did not have to sit on a chair like she had, but more because of the simple fact that he managed to make the best of the situation given to him, unlike her who kinda- well she was trying to.

She shifted in her seat so it was easier to look at him without having to strain her neck. She nodded as he repeated her question. Yes, story. She took a gulp of the drink while waiting for a reply. Everyone had to have a story and that was not just the book nerd side of her talking.

The reply that came however was a bit disappointing and Angela did not try to hide the slight frown that touched her lips. "Well that sounds incredibly dull," she stated before pointing a finger at him, wondering if she could figure his 'story' out. "Why the academy then? Don't tell me it's your sense of giving back to the school or something."

[Marcus Foster]

Marcus gave a bit of a grunt to himself as he mentally deconstructed his own answer. He wasn't some emotionally detached, 'broken' former soldier struggling to cope with his demons though the vague description of his 'story' had gone a long way in making it seem that way. While he was in no way among the more 'normal' folk he'd encountered during his time back in Kalispell and he was carrying more than his fair share of baggage around he wasn't about to let it hover over him like a cloud shrouding everything his life going forward could be. Anyway, he knew Angela was going to be his partner/understudy for a while. She was the closest thing he would have to an Academy issued friend and rarely did people bond over vaguely shared experiences.

"Alright." He said again, this time sitting up a bit more. Marcus had caught the look of disappointment on Angela's face and her reply made him cringe. There was, indeed, far m ore to his story than he'd let on and if that's what Angela had gleaned off it than it would be to his benefit to elaborate.

"Right after high school I joined the Army. I was with the Eighty-Second in oh-three during the initial invasion into Iraq. After nineteen months there I was smart enough to transfer ahead of the deployment rotation and lest than a year after I got back I got hit with another trip in oh-six." Marcus paused long enough to mull over another bottle. He plucked the small plastic container up and twisted off the cap. He didn't seem overly concerned or particularly weighed down by the topic of conversation. He spoke as one would when discussing their choices of college majors.

"After that I transferred again, this time I wanted to be a Ranger." He chuckled a little right before the contents of the small plastic bottle went down his gullet with relative ease. "Because during my first two deployments Rangers were the coolest fuckers in whatever room they happened to be in. I knocked out a few more deployments with Third Battallion before getting my medical discharge papers a couple years ago then I came to Bellefonte."

Of course Marcus wasn't done there. He'd opened the floodgates, something he rarely did to just anyone. Angela, though, was different. They'd be spending an awful lot of time working together in the coming months and she, if no one else, deserved to know a little bit more about the man she was supposed to be learning under. "As to why, The Academy?" Marcus gave a short laugh there. "I'd hope you'd give me more credit than that." He'd already 'given' so much the idea of continuing to be driven by that need to sacrifice seemed farcical at this point. "In truth I wanted to do something I was good at, paid decently well and didn't involve a lot of work."

Eyes narrowed then as Marcus studied Angela. She wasn't getting out of this exchange unscathed. Circumstances had dictated Marcus feeling comfortable divulging a bit more of his past than he usually wanted so he wasn't about to let her get away without doing the same. "Your turn." He said simply. "And I want all the gory, colorful details. I don't care how cheesy or cliche they may be."

[Angela Knight]

The girl perked up when she realized she was right, there was a lot more to his story. A whole lot more in fact. She understood most of it, except for the parts where he talked about being with the eighty second in oh three? Oh six?

She wanted to ask, but she did not want stop the roll he was on because who knew when else could she get to hear him talk about it. So no questions from Angela, she just drank her whiskey and listened. However when he did pause, she took her chances. "Sorry, what's the uh eighty second and oh three thing?"

By the time he finished, she finished her drink. "Well, Marcus, that definitely did not sound like nothing much to tell," she said mockingly. She probably got more than what she thought she could and she loved it. She preferred knowing a bit more about someone than just having a name and a face to go with it. After all, they were going to be working together more often.

So it was only fair that she too shared her story. When he asked, she smiled cheekily, knowing now the limelight was on her. "Okay," she said, nodding her head. She wondered from where she should start. If she picked up right after high school, well there was not much to tell. She was only twenty years and ten months old.

"An orphan," she started off, figuring that the beginning would be the best. "I don't remember anything about my birth parents. I grew up at the orphanage. My childhood was what you can call a sad classic orphan tale. The little girl that never got adopted." Just saying the words she felt a hint of anger underneath and without realizing it her shadow was slowly increasing. "Didn't get adopted as a baby and by then, nobody wanted a toddler. And if they did, they didn't want a sour one. The older I got, the less enthusiastic I was when it came to the interviews," she admitted with a shrug. Little Angela slowly grew tired of not getting adopted so gradually she put less effort whenever she met with the couples.

"Friends come and go. Literally." She chuckled. Her shadow grew a little larger as one "friend" popped into mind suddenly but just as quickly it came, she pushed the thought away. "So I found comfort in books and by erm the age of eleven, I manifested, sent off to Bellefonte and till now I've never really left the academy." Angela smiled, her fingers had been absentmindedly twirling the empty bottle in hand. By now, her shadow was slowly retreating back to its initial size. "Was that good enough?"

[Marcus Foster]

Marcus let out a bit of an apologetic chuckle. The lingo and terminology of his prior profession not translating well to the civilian world remained one of the most trying parts of his post-military adjustment. Often it sounded like he was speaking a different language and the occasional reminder of this never bothered him. "The Eighty-Second Airborne is an infantry unit out of North Carolina." He explained. "I deployed with them in two-thousand-three." A shrug followed at Angela's response. So he had been a little vague when insisting he didn't have much of a story. The depth and scope of the story, however, was a matter of perception. And it wasn't as if she was asking him specifics.

He was nowhere near drunk enough to get into that.

As Angela began to speak Marcus' head tilted upward, watching curiously while her tale unfolded. He nodded thoughtfully, understanding possibly more than he'd thought he would at first. There was something to be said for 'home', after all. His version of it was more of an idea than a place but the comforts of it were the same. "So you're the one 'giving back' to the Academy?" He noted with a bit of a smirk.

[Angela Knight]

At first the girl felt ignorant to not have known the terms he used, but then felt slightly better when he explained and figured anyone like her who was not familiar with the military could not possibly have known that. Except for the oh-three cause that was the year. She felt a little dumb to not have caught that on.

His reply was not an expected one yet it managed to turn up the corners of her lips. Come to think of it, nobody really ever pointed that out to her. She never said it out loud but Marcus was right not completely wrong and she knew it. "Cliche right. The story of my life," she concluded with a scoff.

"You can take the bed," she said then, quickly wanting to change the subject. "You know, get some sleep. We'll have a long day tomorrow." With that, hoping Marcus did not ask further about her past, Angela turned her head to the side and looked out the window.

[Marcus Foster]

Marcus waved a hand dismissively. He had lived an entire life filled with cliches and tired tropes. It didn't get any worse than the overly macho, tattooed military type with a bit of a drinking problem and a penchant for shooting things. He wouldn't deny it, rather he had chose to embrace his cliches. At least they weren't boring. "You've managed to find something satisfying that keeps you close to home." Marcus reasoned aloud. "I don't see anything wrong with that." At least that sounded much less bloody and violent as his trope had ended up being.

With a curious tilt of his head Marcus watched Angela and the sudden shift in her demeanor. He studied her a moment, the concern evident on his face. "I'm alright." He replied with another wave of his hand. "I've already got my setup here and I won't be going to bed anytime soon." Though he didn't figure offering the bed to him was the reason Angela suddenly got quiet and started looking out the window. He'd seen the expression on her face before a thousand times and knew all too well it meant memories better left unsaid were beginning to creep up.

"The first guy I met in Ranger School was this kid whose brother'd been a Ranger for years, right? So he's all excited he's getting the chance to follow in his big brother's footsteps. He's a good guy and all. Takes being in the Army way serious. He reads all these books on war and writes essays on 'carrying the mantle of leadership' and all that shit." Marcus had flung himself full bore into the story. He didn't often get into such a mood to tell stories of his time in the military but left with little else to lighten the outlook of the night he defaulted to the first thing that came into his mind.

For better or worse.

"In case you didn't know Ranger School is basically two months of hell mixed in with torture with a nice helping of sleep and food deprivation on the side. Fun times. You really have nothing to look forward to. It's just one shitty day after another. Except between the phases of training when you get your mail. It's your lifeline to the outside world. For some of the guys it was the only thing that kept them going. My buddy's no exception. And his family, being all supportive and everything, really hooked him up. He had like four care packages, a dozen letters, all that shit. But he had one package labelled 'T.A. Fifty'. T.A. Fifty is the 'personal equipment' designation in the Army, which means the instructors have him open the package right there in front of them, instead of in private."

Marcus paused only long enough to pop the top of the last liquor bottle he had nearby and down it. He exhaled sharply at the bitter taste of the alcohol before slowly getting to his feet while continuing the tale. "So. In front of everybody my buddy opens this package. And in it..." Marcus stood, holding his hands about a foot or so apart. "The most anatomically impressive... dildo I've ever seen in my life and trust me, I've seen some shit."

A hand came up to randomly wave about the air. Proof of that last statement was certainly something Marcus wasn't going to get into. What he was going to get into was the bottle of cheap wine he'd snagged on his way out of the airport. "Our instructors, being the light hearted and cheerful bunch that they were, immediately asked who knew how to sew. Like a dumbass I raised my hand and was immediately given the task of sewing the Ranger patch onto this thing and, uh, carrying it around for the entire phase."

Another pause came as Marcus, using a weathered multi-tool he'd stowed away in his check-in luggage, popped the cork on the bottle of wine. "From there it went to whoever fucked up and they held it until someone else fucked up and then they'd pass it on." Marcus unwrapped a pair of the plastic cups provided by the hotel and set them on the table in front of him before carefully filling them with the deep, auburn liquid. "So you should be impressed." Marcus' voice changed, taking on a mockingly regal tone. "While many others have carried the burden." He turned, crossing the room with both cups. "Tonight you shall drink wine." He handed one of the cups over to Angela. "With history's first Keeper of the Dick."

[Angela Knight]

Angela was not the kind to delve into her past. She did not like doing it because it would only bring up memories and emotions she rather not revisit. Especially at the late hours of the night and when or if Marcus doze off later, she would be left with her own thoughts. Angela was not big on being alone with only her thoughts for company.

After changing the subjects and turning to look out the window, the girl thought he would take that as a hint that that was the end of their conversation. That she did not want to talk anymore about herself. In a way, just because she did not want to say anything else, that did not mean he could not carry on. So when he spoke, it gave Angela a small surprise.

She had no idea where his story was going or what spurred him to even start with it in the first place. Maybe Marcus just wanted to make conversation. As long as he did most of the talking, that Angela could do.

She had been listening, though her eyes were kept staring out the window at the dark night. But when she noticed he had stood up, her gaze tore away from the night sky and back to her partner. When he said the word dildo, her lips cracked and a smile and a soft laugh gave way. Did she hear him right? Dildo? She imagined big tatooed men like Marcus crowding around a package and opening it to find an anatomically impressive dildo. The image her mind conjured made Angela laugh a little harder. His story definitely took an unexpected turn.

Her hands reached out and accepted the glass - technically cup - of wine. “Cheers,” she said, giving it a little lift before bringing it to her mouth to take a sip. She choked a bit when she heard what he last said. With a thinned smile, she rubbed away the liquid dripping at the corners of her lips.

Keeper of the Dick.

She had to chuckle at that. “I guess this is some of the fun moments in the hellish Ranger school huh.” Keeper of the Dick. The words were still being thrown around in her mind. It sounded like a great title for a book. “What’s happening to the dildo now? Still being passed around among the rangers?”

[Marcus Foster]

Nothing like a good dildo story to break the ice or cast off the tension of a conversation that drifted into unwanted territory. With an amused smirk on his face Marcus stepped away from his co-worker and crossed the room to take a seat at the small table in the corner near his makeshift, camouflage patterned nest. He took another drink from the cup, finishing off the wine before grabbing the bottle for a refill.

"I don't know." He answered with a shrug, pouring the wine into his cup. "After we finished I never saw it again." Marcus didn't think it necessary to add it wasn't his last interaction with a similarly substantial implement. Some people he'd met in the military had very strange concepts of humor. "But I like to think it's still out there in some Ranger-to-be's pack as a constant reminder not to fuck up."

Marcus gave a satisfied sigh at the fond memories. There were many of those from his 16 years in the Army and often when he reminisced he found himself missing the camaraderie of his fellow soldiers. There were few things that could forge a bond of friendship like mutually shared misery. "You moonlight as security too, don't you?" He asked, glancing across the room to Angela. "How's that working out for you?"