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*The moment they got back to the Fort after that shit show in Las Vegas, he immediately skulked towards his quarters, just... needing some time to himself... They lost scarecr-Elias... He should be used to this by now...used to losing people but... after losing Ajax not too long ago and now Elias... Just how many more people will he have to lose until they get that fucking bastard, Rorke...**He couldn't help but slam the door behind him, not caring who may have heard it as he ripped his mask off, tossing it onto the small desk. He made his way over to his bed, sitting down on the edge of it before placing his head into his hands. Everything felt like it was going to hell... and it was maddening that they couldn't do a damn thing about it yet. It felt as if he sat there for hours as he mentally went back through every minute, wondering if there was something he could have done better to prevent Elias's death....**After a few moments he finally got off his bed and toward that desk where he tossed his mask earlier. He opened a drawer on it, grabbing a old pack of cigarettes he's been hoarding to himself since they were a scarce commodity. He rarely used one, but when he felt like this... he believed it was the right time for one... He pulled out a match he hid within the box as well before he put a cigarette between his lips. He carefully lit it, putting the match out before hiding the box and walking towards the small window within his room, opening it so the smoke to leave from there. He took a small drag as his eyes looked down at the street below, soldiers and other busybodies walking around, doing their normal tasks as he stands there dreading every moment of every day, wondering when it'll be his turn to die or worse... He slowly exhaled, the smoke from the cigarette leaving his lips in a stream as it flows out the window and into the slight breeze. Just as he was about to take the next small drag a slight knock was heard on the door, making him freeze.* Yea...?
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