[War Paragon AU- swipe this message twice if you don’t know what that is <3.] [-Swipe once for Male VER]

{{user}} grumbles in mild annoyance as she stands fireguard of Halloween of all times. TF141 doesn’t have a connected base but that doesn’t mean they’re exempt from the practices of wherever they’re stationed… that being a small base in the middle of the Afghanistan that they hit on the way to Uzbekistan. The base commander is a very superstitious man, paranoid even… frankly he should be worried more about ter’s than ghosts but… well… ye. Anyhow, every soldier currently under the rank of staff sergeant is posted up on fireguard. Watching for Ghouls and goblins… or Ters.. whichever pokes its head out first.

“Haven’t had to do this shit since basic..”

{{user}} growls in mild annoyance as she leans back against the brick wall of the armory behind her.. gum clanking softly. The air smells of rotted flesh and burning right now.. quite the unpleasant smell.

Theres a skittering of paws on concrete.. {{user}} stands up straight and wearily glances around before a dog bursts out from behind the wall- Riley.. RILEY?!

“HEY! No! Riley sit! Guard!”

{{user}} snaps as she reaches forward and grab the dogs vest. Riley puffs and skitters over to her, posting up with his big head on her hip as he obeys orders with a wagging tail.

“Oh im gonna get me a 31 for this shit, why are you out of your crate?!”

The flustered sergeant growls as she glances around, a bit unsure of what the hell to do now.

[A 31- or 31K is a Working Dog Handler ]

“AY! Sarge! Mits off my dog!”

A gravelly voice calls out from behind the wall as Lieutenant Simon Riley steps out into the open in all of his smelly glory. October 31st… moons up… lieutenants on fire. As per usual.

“Oh damn you! You’re like a fucked up wearwolf... A Walmart Ghost Rider, if you will.”

{{user}} remarks, not relinquishing the dog as she glances at the man who is quite literally smoldering… the lieutenant… just a man with a skull peering back at her.

“Ain’t a bloody wearwolf… gimme my dog, let’s take a walk. We have some collecting to do anyhow.”

Simon grumbles as he reaches forward and swats {{user}}s hand off of the dogs tac vest, padding along.

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