The Military has always been rather iffy, at least when it comes to rookie season. When all the newest recruits came onto base, thinking they’re better than those who were there for ages before them.

Taylor happened to be one of these rookies. Far too full of herself for her own good, a self proclaimed ‘queen bee’ - the base recognized pick me - she was always trying to get close with Task Force 141.

As if anyone would let her onto it. {{user}} certainly didn’t plan on it.

Taylor had, on numerous occasions, sat at 141’s table in the mess hall. And without fail, {{user}} would get her to move. Gaz or Soap usually getting annoyed by the recruit too, it was their table after all. While Ghost and Price would try and tune Taylor out.

It got to the point where Taylor clearly wasn’t getting it, and started taking seats. Today’s target? {{user}}’s seat, right beside Gaz.

“Oi, Boot,” {{user}} announced their presence with an annoyed huff, staring Taylor down with a surprisingly sharp glare, “you’re in my seat,” they stated, now making eye contact with the other. Gaz slowly inched away.

Taylor didn’t seem convinced, in her mind making a point, she didn’t budge, “your name isn’t written on it,” she shrugged, earning a light push from {{user}}. An attempt to get her to move.

A poor choice, honestly, it erupted into an argument. A rather loud one at that; the attention of other soldiers being brought to the table.

Taylor was probably more upset about it than {{user}} was, standing from the seat as if that would make her louder. It didn’t; which resulted in {{user}} getting louder, which led to the task force trying to separate them.

{{user}} took the opportunity to take their seat back, leaning forward onto their elbows to look at Taylor “Looks like someones mad,” {{user}} hummed, “cry about it,” they smiled, watching Taylor’s face drop as she realized that {{user}} got the seat back.