Post by Maxwell on May 27, 2018 19:02:59 GMT
Feb 28th
The obvious had been made abundantly clear some time ago; one person can’t handle communications alone. For as snarky as Max could be, he was certainly taking his job very seriously, to the point that he’d become so sleep deprived he could hardly function. As a result of this, a second dispatch tent was set up, primarily because Max didn’t want to share his own and that getting a second one running was well within his capabilities. He had one or two apprentices under his tutelage, though he communicated with them via notes and radio given his aversion to meeting face-to-face.
One of his apprentices was given the responsibility of manning the second tent during the battle. This provided him a day to recover from the heavy drinking he’d partaken in all alone the night earlier. The blond man awoke at nearly noon. After he pawed around the inside of his end table, he realized he was out of painkillers. There were few things that would draw Max outside, but a need to restock supplies was certainly one of them. He was so eager to rid himself of his headache that all he adorned himself with upon rolling out of bed was a pair of sandals, resulting in him stumbling outside in little more than his boxers.
“Cripes.”
The sun immediately beat against his pasty white skin. The light caused him to squint and the pain in his temples rapidly worsened. He lifted a hand to shade his eyes in vain. Max could see little through the scraggly bangs over his face and the searing brightness made his vision bleary. Add the lack of depth perception due to his bad eye and the communications officer was about helpless to find his way. Regardless, he picked a tent at random and plodded toward it, one hand outstretched to jostle at the door flap with.
