GENERAL OPEN POST
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"You would be good for some motivational speeches," Steve responded with a half smile. "A lot of the guys find it hard to keep holding on to things like that." Anyone in a war zone would understand, of course, especially in the most bleak moments.
Eyeing the gear for a moment, he wondered if it would also be use as a symbol of sorts for Sam. To show that yes indeed there were two super soldiers around. Rather than comment on it, he led the way to the Commandos, entering a tent, which anyone could hear all across the base. They would need to quiet down soon but not yet.
"Everyone, this is Sam Wilson, he's going to be joining our group here," Steve announced, deciding to let the other man tell what he wanted to.
"I leave the public speaking to my father." Sam grinned wryly. "He's a preacher back home. Guess some of his outlook rubbed off on me." If not his religion, but that wasn't relevant.
Sam entered the tent behind Steve and gave the other Commandos a friendly wave as Steve introduced him. "I've got these wings here that Mr. Stark whipped up," he explained, gesturing to the gear he carried. It didn't look like much, stashed in what looked like oversized suitcases, but that was the idea. "What I do is fly, except I'm a lot quieter than any plane, and I can take off and land anywhere. Hopefully that means I can be of some practical use with what you all are doing out in the field." He omitted anything about the serum; he didn't want to explain what the government had done to him, not to a bunch of (mostly) white men. He'd told Steve because it was necessary, but Sam planned to keep it under wraps.
The Commandos, of course, were very interested in the wings and with Sam in general. There were dozens of questions called out, some serious like height limitations on where Sam could fly and other not so serious on if he ever used the wings for other purposes. The less serious questions earned the patent Rogers displeased face, which a few of them heeded once they witnessed it and stuck to the more serious questions. A few did not as expected but they all yanked at one another's chains. It kept a kind of sanity against the rest of the world.
Letting out a breath, Steve held up a hand. "I think Sam has answered enough now. Why don't we get a drink first before we start getting into what we need to do for tomorrow?"
Sam answered the questions tossed at him easily, even the less serious ones. He had a laid-back, joking manner that made people feel comfortable around him, and it was apparent that he'd fit right in with the Commandos soon enough. He even took the wings out of their carrying gear and spread one open across the table in the mess to show the others - though he didn't know the answers to most of the technical questions they had about how they worked, he did the best he could. (Probably most of the things he couldn't answer were Howard Stark's secrets, anyway.)
"Yeah, all right, I could go for a drink," Sam replied easily. Not that he could get drunk anymore - he'd tried once or twice - but it was still enjoyable enough having a drink with friends. "And maybe something to eat, if you still got anything around. No need to whip up something fresh on my account." If not, he could always resort to a can of rations. He didn't want to impose on whoever the cook was around here.
The other men trailed out in the direction of one of the local taverns where they set up a few days prior. "There's food where we're going. Enough even for us." They always needed a lot of food overall but things were rough when they could only resort to rations. "Have you gotten used to not eating much when you need to?" Steve asked as they walked, eyes drifting onto Sam for a moment. "I'm sorry if I ask too much. I'm still not used to this." For so long, he believed he had been the only super soldier.
They arrived at the tavern, only filled with soldiers, nurses and the like. It had been abandoned until they fixed it up. A kind of morale with how down everyone had been lately. It probably wasted time in some eyes but not for Steve at all. It kept the spirits up and they needed it to help with winning the war.
"Way things were back home, it's not like having enough food was exactly normal," Sam offered wryly. He knew what Steve was talking about, though - that it was different with a super-soldier's metabolism. "I'm pretty good at stretching food out if I have just a little bit to add to rations." Not to mention killing whatever meat presented itself; Sam hadn't gone into this knowing a damn thing about how to skin and clean animals, but he'd learned fast.
"Don't worry about it." He waved his concerns off. "I'm just not exactly used to talking about it, that's all." It wasn't his favorite subject in the world, but he was willing to deal with it.
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stardustly2018-01-01 05:57 pm
no subject
Eyeing the gear for a moment, he wondered if it would also be use as a symbol of sorts for Sam. To show that yes indeed there were two super soldiers around. Rather than comment on it, he led the way to the Commandos, entering a tent, which anyone could hear all across the base. They would need to quiet down soon but not yet.
"Everyone, this is Sam Wilson, he's going to be joining our group here," Steve announced, deciding to let the other man tell what he wanted to.
no subject
Sam entered the tent behind Steve and gave the other Commandos a friendly wave as Steve introduced him. "I've got these wings here that Mr. Stark whipped up," he explained, gesturing to the gear he carried. It didn't look like much, stashed in what looked like oversized suitcases, but that was the idea. "What I do is fly, except I'm a lot quieter than any plane, and I can take off and land anywhere. Hopefully that means I can be of some practical use with what you all are doing out in the field." He omitted anything about the serum; he didn't want to explain what the government had done to him, not to a bunch of (mostly) white men. He'd told Steve because it was necessary, but Sam planned to keep it under wraps.
no subject
Letting out a breath, Steve held up a hand. "I think Sam has answered enough now. Why don't we get a drink first before we start getting into what we need to do for tomorrow?"
no subject
"Yeah, all right, I could go for a drink," Sam replied easily. Not that he could get drunk anymore - he'd tried once or twice - but it was still enjoyable enough having a drink with friends. "And maybe something to eat, if you still got anything around. No need to whip up something fresh on my account." If not, he could always resort to a can of rations. He didn't want to impose on whoever the cook was around here.
no subject
They arrived at the tavern, only filled with soldiers, nurses and the like. It had been abandoned until they fixed it up. A kind of morale with how down everyone had been lately. It probably wasted time in some eyes but not for Steve at all. It kept the spirits up and they needed it to help with winning the war.
no subject
"Don't worry about it." He waved his concerns off. "I'm just not exactly used to talking about it, that's all." It wasn't his favorite subject in the world, but he was willing to deal with it.