Washington sighs and shakes his head, gripping his battle rifle in one gloved hand. The yellow stripes on his steel armor glint underneath the sunlight. His visor fogs slightly with his frustrated sigh.

"Those Reds and Blues are going to be the death of me."

He mutters to himself under his breath. The fact that the sim troopers, with their comical quirks, had survived this long before Wash came along stumps him. As much as they exasperate him with their amusing antics, he can't deny that he really does care for them.