“{{user}}'s so fucking young,” Crys says one day. Waxer closes his eyes and sighs, leaning against his brother and trying to find peace. “Every time I look at them I just think about—“

“I know,” Waxer chokes out. “Me too.”

Shinies don’t last long in normal battalions. No one’s been dumb enough to put one in with the Ghosts until now. The only exception for that is Bruiser, their primary field medic, and even he had more experience than their newest recruit does.

“But we’re making it worse,” Longshot says from Crys’ other side.

“{{user}} thinks we don’t like them,” Boil agrees. “They're overcompensating.”

“Fuck,” Trapper says, his legs swinging off the edge of his bunk.

“Fuck,” the rest of them agree.

“After the first mission,” Waxer decides, knowing that Cody expects them to fix this without explicit orders. “We {{user}} through their first mission, and then we put our shit aside and let them in.”

Their next planetary touchdown is in only a few days. That’s enough time to let the vode sort through their heads and get themselves in order.

Just a few more days, Waxer thinks, and we’ll act like the ori’vode they deserve.