Thread: Embedded (Gunner x LingeringDesire)

When they entered the chow hall, almost all the men stopped what they doing and stared a little at Pres Megan, although mostly Pres, being as Megan had dressed a bit more conservatively. The staring only lasted a few seconds, although they snuck glances at them for the rest of the time they were in there after all, they were the only woman on the FOB. About half-way through their meal, five soldiers came in, their rifles slung on their backs, cutting to the front of the line and grabbing some styrofoam to-go plates. The men were tired and dirty their uniforms soaked in sweat and coated in a layer of the fine, flour-like sand of Iraq. There was nothing exceptional about four of them, all similar, dirty, tired, hard-working fighting men. But the fifth, the one who had led them in was a little different. He had a sort of rugged, dirty handsomeness a lithe, muscular build, a well-sculpted face, and piercing hazel eyes which paused on Pres. His eyes roved over her in a second, going from head to toe, lingering a fraction longer on her cleavage than the rest of her, before turning away dismissively. They got their food quickly and left with it, after trading a few crude, good-natured insults with a few of the others present. Once the journalists returned to the TOC, there were four sets of dark blue kevlar vests matching helmets for them. Not the same stuff as the troops wore, but good enough. Hopefully. Bill made them all go store it in their rooms, explaining that things left unattended around soldiers usually weren't there when you came back. By the time they came back down, First Lieutenant Green was waiting for them, and led them to his platoon, 4th platoon, charlie company, the one they had been assigned to. He led them down to his platoon area, really just three rows of CHUs a wooden deck that had their Humvees pulled up to it. There were a few people milling about, most in the black grey Army PT uniforms. In the middle of the deck were four soldiers, dressed in their fatigues, although they'd dressed down to their tan undershirts and had swapped their boots for sneakers or flip-flops. They had towels or their tops spread out on the wooden picnic table there, and were cleaning their rifles a machine gun. And among them was the striking soldier from earlier, sitting with the men talking about the pirated movies that had been being passed around the platoon. The lieutenant introduced himself, then the platoon sergeant, Sergeant First Class Woodard. The two had a quick private discussion, after which the officer turned back to Pres. We've decided to put you with Sergeant Eric Wright, second squad leader. He's a good soldier, already deployed once each to Iraq Afghanistan, very experienced knowledgeable. Woodard, why don't you take her to meet him? the lieutenant said. The sergeant nodded, and motioned for her to follow him outside. The four soldiers there were gone however, and Wright wasn't in his room. Why the time they found someone who knew where he was, he was already walking back from his shower, dressed in his PTs and shower shoes, finally cleaned, his rifle held in one hand. Wright, this is Presley Gear, she's one of the journalists that's embedding with us. We're putting you in charge of managing them. Woodard said. Eric's facial expression made it clear for a split-second that he wasn't happy about that at all. Great. he said neutrally, his eyes darting between Presley's face breasts. PT - Physical Training