Scars of Gold

It hadn't been until recently that Romania had allowed for their special forces to group with team Rainbow. With White Mask attacks being at an all time high around the world, they had seen no reason to lend some of their elite marksmen to some organization. Until now, when things were calmer, more manageable.

It had been almost a year since two members of the SIAS had joined Rainbow. Their personalities were almost complete opposites, yet, as they said, they were attached at the hip.

Andrea 'Lynx' Christoff and Sergei 'Iron Bull' Ralu. A medic and a therapist- just what Rainbow needed. Though recently their dorms had experienced a form of 'team exercise' ; forcing the two to shelter in the bunks of other units. Sergei had gone to bunk with a friend he had made, Gilles. The mountain of a man was a gentle giant- Sergei possibly had a crush on him, as Andrea liked to tease.

Meanwhile the woman had no other choice but to bunk with the unit closest to her dorms; the SAS. She held a neutral attitude to them; most of the time the boys wouldn't bother her and would only really strike conversation because of James, seeing as he was the most nosy. 'For blackmail,' he had once told Seamus, 'she could try to kill us.' Odd, how the most unpredictable man thought a medic would kill people faster than he would.

However scarce may be the moments where the Romanian would come out of her office; all creatures needed social interaction. She was no different. It got... lonely, sometimes. Without her old squadron bothering her to death and duct-aping her bag to the ceiling, how else was she going to get entertainment? Newspaper could only do so much.

Thus, she found herself at the bar in the lounge. It wasn't often she would be driven to alcohol- but, alas, cigarettes and drugs could only do so much. She was alone- most were either too wary of her to strike up conversation or simply didn't trust her enough to approach. She did pull a pistol on Marius once for coming in her office with a mere cut on his arm. She hadn't shot him, but did give him the scare of his life.

Andrea's dull eyes gazed down at the opaque brown liquid in the glass, her natural expression never changing. She was thinking- deep where she dreaded to go, bringing back thoughts she had never wanted to think of. Idly, she sipped at the whiskey, the small ice cubes clinking against the glass cup, breaking the silence if only for a short second. Lowering the drink from her lips and setting it back down on the wooden counter, Andrea sighed. If only she had Sergei talking to her right now- he'd probably be telling some story about his time as a therapist.

Once more, she lifted the glass up to her lips and drank the rest of the liquid, emptying the glass swiftly. She still could feel her thoughts creeping up on her. So, another shot she poured herself, the bottle now almost halfway gone.

A noise caught her attention. Footsteps, almost completely silent had she not been trained to hear subtle sounds. Instinctively, the Romanian looked over her shoulder and saw the youngest member of the SAS approach her. Mark R. Chandar- mostly known as Mute since he seems to never talk outside of situations. Even in situations he rarely talked, only doing so to state something to his team.

Andrea waved a hand at him as he sat down on the stool next to her. Though she wouldn't admit it, the Brit intrigued her. Always communicating in sign language, always looking calm yet being the most protected in his unit. Never seeming to falter his analytics. He truly was the prodigy his file called him out to be.

Speaking of Mark, he waved at her in return and gestured to the bottle of whiskey.

"Knock yourself out." She shrugged, back to her own glass, her own thoughts. She didn't even notice the man get up to walk behind the bar and get himself a glass.

No, she thought purely about the mission that had gone South of what was planned. What had supposed to been a simple bio hazard defusing had almost turned into a full on bloodbath on both sides of the fight.