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He didn't bother unpacking most of his gear, just throwing his bag into the locker at the end of his bed minus a few toiletries and a book or two, before looking around.
The room was long and almost empty. Most of the beds were made, and there were a few signs of occupancy, but the only people still moving were him and two of the guys that had come in with him. Keller was SAS, like him, and During had a definite military posture, although he wore no insignia.
There was a lump in his stomach and his back itched like he was in hostile territory, but he didn't wait for the others to finish stowing their gear before he made his way down to the mess hall.
Which turned out to more like a canteen, or the dining hall from his secondary school. It was large and old-fashioned, just like everything seemed to be in the castle, with tables set out evenly.
Most of the people were already eating and two maids were clearing away some of the tables. The noise hushed when he walked in and he felt their eyes follow him as he made his way over to the queue. Most of the looks were calm, but some were actively hostile and he felt a moments pang for his old squad. Three of them had been assigned to the organisation while he was still on leave, but he had no idea where they were right now.
None of the tables looked friendly, but he picked one that was less hostile than most and sat down with his tray.
"You're another new one, then?"
She was pretty, petite which he liked, blonde and looking quite out of place here. The men on the table around her must have topped her height by a foot and even laughing had the air of somebody who has shot, and been shot at, killed and been prepared to die.
They were laughing now, making some remark that made her snort dismissively and put on an expression of mock insult. The man on her left had his arm in a sling, but was waving a spoon full of mash about in a vaguely threatening way with his free hand.
"Pretty little thing, isn't she?"
He looked up at the man who'd spoken. "yeah. Looks a bit out of place here, though."
The man smirked. "Forget it. She's one of the ones left from the old crew. So are the men with her. They tend to stick together when they're not on duty. Not that there's that many left." He looked Thomson over. "What were you, SAS?"
Thomson nodded.
"That's not gonna win you many favours. I heard the SAS were heavily involved in the mess before."
Thomson shrugged and didn't say anything. Mess was what most people called it. The long, dark night was another. Hell on Earth was popular, too. Bloody politics and infighting was how his commander had referred to it. Treachery had only been used in whispers, until he got here and found out that most people called it that in loud, clear terms.
Shameful, was what he called it, and was why he'd accepted this transfer.
The room was long and almost empty. Most of the beds were made, and there were a few signs of occupancy, but the only people still moving were him and two of the guys that had come in with him. Keller was SAS, like him, and During had a definite military posture, although he wore no insignia.
There was a lump in his stomach and his back itched like he was in hostile territory, but he didn't wait for the others to finish stowing their gear before he made his way down to the mess hall.
Which turned out to more like a canteen, or the dining hall from his secondary school. It was large and old-fashioned, just like everything seemed to be in the castle, with tables set out evenly.
Most of the people were already eating and two maids were clearing away some of the tables. The noise hushed when he walked in and he felt their eyes follow him as he made his way over to the queue. Most of the looks were calm, but some were actively hostile and he felt a moments pang for his old squad. Three of them had been assigned to the organisation while he was still on leave, but he had no idea where they were right now.
None of the tables looked friendly, but he picked one that was less hostile than most and sat down with his tray.
"You're another new one, then?"
She was pretty, petite which he liked, blonde and looking quite out of place here. The men on the table around her must have topped her height by a foot and even laughing had the air of somebody who has shot, and been shot at, killed and been prepared to die.
They were laughing now, making some remark that made her snort dismissively and put on an expression of mock insult. The man on her left had his arm in a sling, but was waving a spoon full of mash about in a vaguely threatening way with his free hand.
"Pretty little thing, isn't she?"
He looked up at the man who'd spoken. "yeah. Looks a bit out of place here, though."
The man smirked. "Forget it. She's one of the ones left from the old crew. So are the men with her. They tend to stick together when they're not on duty. Not that there's that many left." He looked Thomson over. "What were you, SAS?"
Thomson nodded.
"That's not gonna win you many favours. I heard the SAS were heavily involved in the mess before."
Thomson shrugged and didn't say anything. Mess was what most people called it. The long, dark night was another. Hell on Earth was popular, too. Bloody politics and infighting was how his commander had referred to it. Treachery had only been used in whispers, until he got here and found out that most people called it that in loud, clear terms.
Shameful, was what he called it, and was why he'd accepted this transfer.