"Tastes Like Cardboard"
“MREs,” Annika said with a sigh as she ripped the foil off of the meal bar with her teeth. “You'd think they'd make them taste better.”
Beside her, Imoen bit off a bite and grinned. “Mine tastes just like it's supposed to – dunno what you're complaining about.”
Annika raised a brow. “Oh?”
“Yep. Tastes just like soggy cardboard.” Imoen said with a chuckle, scrunching up her face. After a moment of silence, Imoen sighed. “This is when you're supposed to laugh now,” she informed Annika, taking on the tone of a teacher instructing a really young child.
“Ha.” Annika deadpanned.
“See?” Imoen said, reaching over to ruffle Anni's newly shortened hair. “Was that so hard?” Annika simply batted her wrist away, and gave her a very destructive glare.
“Jeez . . . you're grumpy today.” Imoen pouted.
“You'd be 'grumpy' too, right now.” Annika spat out. Actually, 'grumpy' didn't even cover it. 'Really Freaking Mad' and 'Extremely Frustrated' sounded better. She sighed looking around the small underground cellar they had been forced to take refuge in, ever since their mission had been shot to hell.
“Lemme see.” Imoen said. Annika straightened out her leg, slowly. Blood-encrusted bandages wrapped around her calf, and as she moved, her face when white.
Imoen let out a sigh. “You've gotta stop bleeding on my clothes,” she said teasingly, as she ripped off the left sleeve from her shirt. “After all --” Imoen froze mid-motion. They could both hear the footsteps in the house above them. “Shhh.” She pressed a pistol into Anni's palms, who covered wooden trapdoor that lead into the cellar. This deep into Federation territory, they weren't giving anything 'benefit-of-the-doubt.' The trapdoor opened, and a pair of black, scuffed boots appeared on the top step.
“Just me.” The whisper came down.
“Yeash, Anomen!” Imoen whispered back as he came down the steps, closing the trapdoor behind him, “you freaked me out! I thought you were a trooper for sure!” She was grinning.
He sighed. “We're alright for the moment.” He came down the rest of the way, into the single light they had managed to rig together. “The troops don't think anyone made it this far.” He knocked a lock of dark hair out of his eyes. “No sign of the others – but no captured prisoners, as far as I could gather.” He shrugged out of his 'borrowed' jacket; something Imoen had managed so they would not be traipsing around in obvious military gear. “Aerie's still topside,” He added. Imoen began fumbling with the med-kit and her makeshift splint.
Annika nodded. It made sense to have a few people exploring the setup of this place. Little more then a small village, it was a hope there might be a communications setup, or something the now-stranded team could use to contact help. And in the meantime . . .
“Here.” She grabbed an MRE and threw it to Anomen. He simply made a face.
Imoen looked up from her work with the medpack. “I don't see what's so wrong!” She insisted. “They taste just like they're supposed to --”
“Like soggy cardboard.” Anomen finished with a sigh, sitting down on an overturned crate.
"Tastes Like Cardboard": Quiz 148
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