FIRST SESH, SAM AND AMÉRICO

Américo Ferreira™: **The somewhat swarthy young man sits with a bored expression on an unmarked crate, casually observing the hustle and bustle of soldiers around him. He unslings his pack, and lets it softly drop to the ground, and sets his rife to lean against his seat. He brushes off his the pantlegs of his uniform with a sigh. His uniform, his pack, and even his rifle wold seem not just worn, but antiquated compared to those around him. His expression would be somewhat sad, and by no means enthusiastic as he awaits his orders and inevitable departure.**

Sam-131: *Sam had situated herself in the armory hours ago - she lost track of the exact time. She sat behind a simple fold out table, gazing at the many parts of her disassembled BR55 service rifle. Sam grabbed a can of spray gun cleaner and a clean rag out of an opened crate and began to get to work, carefully cleaning the parts of the old, dirty oil they held from a previous time. She worked like a machine, ignoring the outside world while she worked. This was the fifth gun she's cleaned so far - this one actually being hers. She took the liberty of helping out a few fellow service members whose guns were in clearly rough shape. She didn't mind; it took her mind off of other things she'd rather not think about.*

Cpl. Américo Ferreira™: **Américo purses his lips, and comes to his feet. He reaches down for his pack, and checks a small datapad. He'd set off toward the armory at a slow walk, eventually poking his head into the door and glancing about. He takes a few steps into the room and calls out in accented, but understandable English, "Hello? I have a..." He frowns for a moment, and snaps his fingers a few times to himself. "Request-ishion form?"

Sam-131: *Sam continued to work, hearing a person enter the armory. She gave the Marine a quick glance, which was almost hidden from the peak of her cover, but quickly focused back on her work.*

Cpl. Américo Ferreira™: **Américo  raises an eyebrow at the woman and mutters something to himself quietly. He'd walk up the silent woman,  and  lean in a bit to her. He'd pul a small datapad out of his pocket and show the screen to her. "I have request-ishion for my arma de fogo. My eh... riiiiifle? Are you the weapons officer?"

Sam-131: *Sam took her focus off her weapon parts and looked at the data pad, her gray eyes scanning its screen briefly. She looked back at the Marine with no clear emotion on her face.* "No, sorry." *She replied.*

Cpl. Américo Ferreira™: **Américo sighs and pockets the datapad. He'd look to either side and shift his pack on his back. He'd turn his gaze back to the woman and spread his arms. "You know where I can find them?"**

Sam-131: "I don't have a clue. Sorry." *Sam said. She added the 'sorrys' to sound less like a robot and a little more simpathetic - she picked that up from many conversations she's listened in on in the past.*

Cpl. Américo Ferreira™: **He lets out a groan, and lets out a brief, angry spate in his native tongue.  Any and all military composure he seemed to have a moment would disappear, and in its place would be a jabbering, furious mess aimed at nobody in particular.**

Sam-131: *Sam cocked an eyebrow at the Marine before going back to cleaning her rifle.*

Cpl. Américo Ferreira™: **Américo would fix her with a angry glance and gesture about the room. "Is there anybody at all who runs this? A /comandante/? An officer? Is this not the /arsenal/?"**

Sam-131: "He's probably at breakfast. He'll be back." *Sam replied emotionlessly, still fixated on what she was doing.*
Cpl. Américo Ferreira™: ** He still glowers at Sam, and shakes his head slowly. "Seems like everybody has been at breakfast since I have arrived.

Sam-131: *Sam did not reply.*

Cpl. Américo Ferreira™: **He throws his hands in the air and drops them with a loud sigh. He'd brush at his low-quality uniform, and slowly sinks to the floor. "Fine. I no longer care."

Cpl. Américo Ferreira™: **Américo throws the woman one last glance before grabbing his bag and standing back up. He'd walk out the door with a scowl on his face. "Fine. I go find somebody who's not some lazy /idiota/, and actually do they job.."

Sam-131: *Sam displayed little concern for the Marine's comments, and glanced up to see him storm out of the armory. Wonder what his problem is. She thought to herself.*