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[There was a petit blond in the hangar who was dressed more like a prep school student than a mech pilot, but the quiet confidence in his bearing belayed his comfort in such a setting. He glanced around the facilities in uncertain but eager curiosity, pushing his flight goggles-- an unusual accessory, given his sense of fashion-- up onto his forehead as he gathered his bearings. He stood near the Gundam he had exited, and looked up at it almost sympathetically as he took stock of the damage to the shield and the armor itself.]
You did well out there, my Sandrock.
[There was a note of fondness in his tone, as if the suit were a long time friend rather than a tool that was designed for war. His smile brightened after a moment when he had another thought.]
I hope they don't mind us coming on board.
[...there was no explanation about who 'they' were.]
You did well out there, my Sandrock.
[There was a note of fondness in his tone, as if the suit were a long time friend rather than a tool that was designed for war. His smile brightened after a moment when he had another thought.]
I hope they don't mind us coming on board.
[...there was no explanation about who 'they' were.]