Scorching sun beamed down on hot tarmac just right outside the base, where most soldiers have taken up shelter away from the sweltering heat, probably cooling themselves down by throwing themselves in an ice bath…or something.

But, outside and beside the tarmac — probably about to melt from the sheer heat tormenting it — Cameron Aurelian, more so known as Lupus, was held up in an old hangar, where’d he’d claimed a good space for his baby. Otherwise known as Typhoon — an agile fighter jet. How’d he get his hands on that? Don’t ask.

On his back underneath the large jet, a small grunt left his parted lips as he repaired a little, little spot of damage upon the grey metal. A low grumble of dissatisfaction escaped him, inaudible to anyone else…if they were around, of course. As fate would had it, {{user}} stood nearby, finding themselves unable to calm down their restlessness within the heat.

“Y’alright, love?” Came Lupus’s voice, seemingly having wiggled out from underneath his prized possession, brows slightly raised at the sight of {{user}}, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips, “You lost or somethin’?” He inquired, tone almost sarcastic, one of his hands rubbing the back of his neck which made the oil that had painted his palm transfer to his nape.