Story Reader / Affection / Vera: Rozen / Story
Vera: Rozen I
>3:20 p.m. F6 Military Warehouse, Command Central
Three packages of serum, injectors, bio-type filters...
A worker is reading out a catalogue of supplies while adjusting his glasses.
But hey, Gray Raven's commandant, right? Did something happen to the usual girl?
Sorry, Commandant. I might need your help...
I'm usually the one to claim supplies for the squad every Thursday, but there's an emergency at the Star of Life. I'll have to go help...
The officer there is called Ailes, and he's a very nice person! So don't worry, Commandant! Just give him the list and he'll get the supplies ready.
Thank you, Commandant!
Ah, I see... Hmm... Must be the squad that went missing in the frontlines. Heard Walker and the others talking about them this morning.
What a world we live in. War that just never ends... Oh, the rack's empty, hang on a sec.
A red shade suddenly flirts into your eyes. That person seems to be in conversation.
A woman with red hair. Furrowing her brows, she seems to be talking to a stranger. The man is gesturing brusquely and talking gruffly, to which she responds with a condescending smirk.
The woman then mutters something, which deflates the man almost instantly. He begins looking around nervously.
Commandant? What's the matter? Took me ages to find you!
The sudden exclamation removes you from your voyeuristic venture.
Here. These should be the supplies you need. Please check and confirm.
Ailes leaves after he hands the trunk of resources over to you. As if drawn by a flame, your gaze is helplessly tugged back to the corner with the woman, only to find her already absent.
Need anything?
Peeping around like a rat, you can't be looking for me, can you?
Honest to a fault, hm?
But, well. I'm not in the mood right now. Need me for something—try booking earlier. I might consider entertaining you for a few seconds.
Tsk, tsk—liar, liar.
Not into liars, uh-uh.
Vera crosses her arms, revealing a medical bag—something she just acquired—before her torso. Noticing your eyes being drawn downward, she props both hands on her hips. A bemused shadow flickers past her eyes.
Whatcha looking at?
Ah. Or, should I say? You like what you see?
Having such true-to-yourself eyes—you must have a death wish.
Apologize.
Apology accepted.
Apology accepted.
But before that... You wondering about what I was doing?
Then why are you staring at me?
...Oh. I get it now. You were wondering about "me?"
Pfft, you sorry little fool. But, well...
If you want to know more...
Vera shuffles closer and whispers.
Come closer, shh, I'll tell you.
You lean closer to Vera, only to be met with biting pain on your forehead.
Ignoring your yelp, Vera curls her fingers and knocks you on the forehead once more. The force that she knocks you with almost sends you reeling. People call her a hyena for a reason.
Dimwit!
Vera scoffs, then crosses her arms again.
Stop sticking your nose into other people's business. Get it?
Thanks. Now get out of my sight.
