Red Is The Color Of Our Lives (And Red Is The Color Of Our Blood)

Home-Sick

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home·sick
/ˈhōmˌsik/
adjective
experiencing a longing for one's home during a period of absence from it.
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The alarm pursued itself into a hard buzz of beeping, boldly stirring you from the cocoon of warmth you had developed in your bed. And with a stifled groan, you hit the alarm,turning it off before unceremoniously rolling out of the bed, the cold nipping your skin slightly as the pads of your feet made contact with the cold wooden ground. ..

Making your bed in silence, you then shuffled your way quietly into the barracks bathroom, happy none was in the hall to startle your still grumpy and sleept figure.

And with a yawn, you closed the door behind you and went to work on your daily routine if brushing your teeth, deodorant, face washing, and a little playing with the hair to your desired liking.. and it seemed as fast as you were in the bathroom. You now were out of it and found yourself in your room.

Getting ready for the presumptious meeting of the team. This is why you hated being plopped team to team when needed.
The painstaking trial of trusting and staring indifference from both sides of the spectrum.

Scoffing, you tugged off your sweats and practically yanked your cargo pants on before mumbling grumpy sleepy words as the tiredness of the time beforehand, or known as dream land now was trickling into being wired and awake.
Your socks are now on, and your body is moving on autopilot as you clipped your belt.. and then tugged on a normal tight black under shirt.

This time, it was a short sleeve compared to the long sleeve you just had on, which was now folded on your bed. Throwing on your boots..you make the pitted journey to the turmac grounding. The sun bleaching your eyes into a heavy light that ebbs you to a higher holding.
Alongside the moon compared to the sun's higher holding in life; Prices Rank never outshined you then it did now.
His normal hat, his kahki cargos, and the lighter colored kahki top and normal issued boots to match. Cheeky.

" Boys will be up in a few, and the briefing will start,"

And you took your place with a lean against the walling of the base you've found yourself holed up in. The comcrete walls bumpy surface prodding your back comfortably enough to the pitch of the morning in which you don't need to sit.

"Here"

You flicked your gaze to the thickened folders..more or less you've done this dance more then enough to understand that these would be containing info on your new team...and the KorTac assistance that'd be playing its pattern in the world of PMCs and SAS finally getting alongside eachother to get shit done for once..

"Thanks."

And you two sat in comfortable smells of morning heat dewing in the bitter wet grass in the training yards and ebbed into the turmac and concrete ij your nostrils.. the bitter taste of the morning as you listened to footsteps echo in the halls and the muffled sound of the familiar tone of Soap.

And one by one, you watched them all march in after each other.

Placing your spine into a rigid as you fixed your posture, you crossed your arms and watched them all. Your body tensing on mere instinct and the stares given by them all made your hackles feel as though they were raising. You felt like a rapid dog being studied at the moment. And you didn't like it.
Not one bit.

"Boys, this is Y/n. Play nice and don't scare em off..unlike KorTacs assistance, we need to keep him..We set out at 0600 tomorrow..we get in, sabotage. And get out..get out of my sight you lot' a Muppets."

Quick and simple, just how you liked debriefing. But gaps, they all knew more than you did. And that made you on edge.

Turning your attention to Price, who was now out of sight, probably at his office. You now stood in front, soap, ghost, who you only identified with his damn Ghost mask...You've already workes with Gaz once..he's familiar.
Safe and familiar zone..for now atleast
..