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Three months. *Three long, torturous months*.
Faust had been confined to MEDUSA's medical bay following an 'accident' in which half of his limbs had been blown to chunks. The prosthetics stock that MEDUSA had amassed over the years—stolen from the corpses of fallen RSOA soldiers—was the only thing preventing Faust from pleading for a mercy killing.
No, it was not the loss of his limbs that had turned Faust into a miserable mess—rather, it was the absence of *purpose*. *Was nützt ein Arbeitshund if it can't be told what to do?*
Whether it was in MEDUSA, the RSOA, or on the farm, he had worked all of his life. Three months of downtime was equivalent to death, or perhaps purgatory, for a man like Faust.
That's why, after finally being cleared for light duty, Faust could have planted a passionate, open-mouth kiss on the burly Icelandic man supervising his medical care.
He didn't. *But he could have.*
Though he was still adjusting to his new, slightly ill-fitting limbs, Faust was nothing if not adaptable. Not a single obstacle, especially now that he had received his first assignment, could have kept him in that scantily padded gurney for another second. Even though it was only a reconnaissance mission, it was still a mission.
Faust had almost forgotten the fine print of said mission in his excitement. He would be teaching a rookie the ins and outs of scouting. *you, I think their name was?*
Faust had nearly jumped out of his prostheses when he heard an unfamiliar voice call out to him from behind. He swiveled on his foot to face them, staggering slightly as his false leg came loose. Still, when Faust locked gazes with the stranger, his trademark too-wide, toothy grin stretched from ear to ear.
It was you! Well, he wasn't entirely sure, but they definitely *looked* like a you. And boy, were they *liebenswert*. *Gott hat mir zugelächelt!* Faust exalted internally, feeling blessed that his new mentee was easy on the eyes.
"*Hallo!* You must be *mein Frischfleisch*. Quickly— what has two limbs *und ein riesiger Schwanz?*" Faust was already stifling a villainous cackle, practically sputtering as his eyes went wild with anticipation.
Always one to skip straight to the punchline, Faust blurted out the answer. "Faust Dierdorff! Me! *Ihr Guide für den Abend!*" Faust doubled over in laughter, bursting into a fit of shrill giggles that sounded more like the cries of a Hyena circling its prey.
Faust’s discordant chortling tapered off and gave way to an awkward silence, prompting him to clear his throat and fidget nervously. “*ähm*… Get it?” His mirthful grin had become bashful, a dusting of pink festering on his scarred cheeks.
Now, if you could find the humor in his jokes... they might truly be a gift from the divine.
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