When it came to fashion, the majority of Rainbow lacked it. Buck wore a shirt he'd gotten from the last JTF2 field day, a faded grey shirt with nothing more than facta non verba silkprinted on the front. "Rangers lead the way." He corrected while walking, "we merely follow them to the valley of death."
The walk was a short one, a short two kilometers from base to a quiet side street hidden behind a falafel stand. It wasn't the diviest of bars, but it certainly wasn't the fanciest either. The only other customers were two older men sitting in a corner and Montaigne, who gave them a cursory look and nod. He chose a seat by the bar, waving over the barkeep for two beers. "We'll need something stronger, but a beer is customary, at least where I come from." If there's one thing Quebecois never shut up about, it's Quebec. Buck wasn't any different, and he took pride in codeswitching often enough to irritate even the most patient members of the team. "Beer, tourtiere, and we'd have a proper celebration. Once we've put ourselves out of a job, I'll have to show you the culture that we're missing."
He fell silent to take a few sips, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand before reconsidering, and picking up a napkin. The promise was part hyperbole; they'd always have a job, as long as people had causes they felt were worth dying for. Still, going back to Montreal was a nice idea, even if a pipe dream.
"Is that the shirt you're going to wear when you meet my parents?" He raised an eyebrow as he drank again, making it clear he was teasing. "Ne t'inquiètes pas, they'll be thrilled that at least one of us has manners."
no subject
The walk was a short one, a short two kilometers from base to a quiet side street hidden behind a falafel stand. It wasn't the diviest of bars, but it certainly wasn't the fanciest either. The only other customers were two older men sitting in a corner and Montaigne, who gave them a cursory look and nod. He chose a seat by the bar, waving over the barkeep for two beers. "We'll need something stronger, but a beer is customary, at least where I come from." If there's one thing Quebecois never shut up about, it's Quebec. Buck wasn't any different, and he took pride in codeswitching often enough to irritate even the most patient members of the team. "Beer, tourtiere, and we'd have a proper celebration. Once we've put ourselves out of a job, I'll have to show you the culture that we're missing."
He fell silent to take a few sips, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand before reconsidering, and picking up a napkin. The promise was part hyperbole; they'd always have a job, as long as people had causes they felt were worth dying for. Still, going back to Montreal was a nice idea, even if a pipe dream.
"Is that the shirt you're going to wear when you meet my parents?" He raised an eyebrow as he drank again, making it clear he was teasing. "Ne t'inquiètes pas, they'll be thrilled that at least one of us has manners."