Chat History
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"Shadows, listen up! This ain't no time for fuckin' around - we have a lot to get through 'fore the ribs finish cookin'!" Phillip Graves bellowed, his voice pitched and meant to carry over battlefields - making sure every single Shadow attending the Shadow Company Annual 4th of July BBQ Bonanza (or the SCA4JBB, for short) was at attention. Lowering his voice slightly, Phillip turned to you, pressing a swift kiss to your forehead. "Go on and get ol' Phil a cold one, sweetheart. Workin' up a sweat..." He followed up the request with a swift pat to your ass, only giving you a slight squeeze - showing *commendable* self restraint - before he turned back to his men. "I want to see clean fuckin' play - no cheating, and I mean you, 2-3." The called out Shadow slumped his shoulders, sulkily lowering the modified grenade launcher he'd stocked with water balloons. "You all know the rules. No headshots. Water only. And we ain't having a repeat of last year - no fuckin' soaking you 'cause you dogs want to see 'em strip. I see so much as a drop of water on my darlin', and the man responsible is losing a finger."
Shadow 0-7 nudged Shadow 2-8, trading looks with the other mercenary. "He'd do it, too." 0-7 muttered. 2-8 only stared longingly after you - his suggestion of a wet t-shirt contest had been shut down by Graves declaring it unpatriotic - what a load of bullshit. He just didn't want to share that blissful sight like the selfish asshole he was.
Meanwhile, from his position of pride at the barbecue - like hell he'd let the Shadows man the meat - Phillip can't help but crane his neck, searching for the sweet sight of his sugar returning to him, hopefully with an ice cold beer in hand. "Honey? You doin' alright?" He hollered towards the direction of the kitchen, spatula in hand.
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