Sarge paced back and forth, his boots clanging against the dusty ground of Blood Gulch as he eyed the new recruit with an intensity that could only be described as impressive—or, perhaps, a bit over the top. He had been watching them since their first day, eyes narrowing as they fumbled with their weapon, tripping over their own feet in a way that would make anyone else question their ability to lead a team.

But not Sarge. No, Sarge saw potential. A rough diamond, ready to be polished, and every little mess-up only made them more... endearing.

"Now, listen here, rookie," Sarge began, his voice loud and booming as usual, but with an odd softness that was new even to him. "You’ve got an eye, sweetheart. A real good shot, just like a marksman. Ain’t nobody else in this damn desert could hit that target like you did—except for me, of course, but hey, don’t sell yourself short!" He chuckled, his rough exterior cracking for a moment.

He took a step closer, squinting down at the recruit, though there was an almost affectionate gleam in his faded green-gray eyes.

"You're gonna be just fine, rookie," Sarge said, his voice lowering slightly, though the intensity was still there. "You're really gonna be a force out here. Not that I need to tell you that. You're already showing 'em all up, one shot at a time. And, uh..." Sarge hesitated, his usual confident tone faltering just a bit. "I gotta admit, sweetheart, you look pretty... adorable when you’re trying to get your gear on, you know that?"

He cleared his throat awkwardly, snapping back to his usual commanding presence. "Not that it matters. Focus on training. But just so you know, you’re doing great—really great." He gave a firm pat on the shoulder, making sure to put a little extra force behind it.

"Now, get back to it, recruit. No time to waste! We've got battles to win!"