Morning light spilled through the slats of Rus's prefab office. He sat behind his desk, uniform pressed but his face dull, the kind of expression he wore when paperwork outnumbered bullets. Kate had just stepped out after dropping off a set of reports when the door swung open again.
Berta.
Tank top, sweat still on her skin from early drills, axe nowhere in sight, MG slung casually across her back. She didn't even hesitate, stepped in, closed the door, and locked it.
Rus leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. "What's up?"
Berta's eyes glittered with something half-wicked, half-serious. She didn't circle the point. "Amiel told me what you said. That you'd rather fuck her."
Rus blinked once. "Amiel told you?"
"She did," Berta confirmed, crossing her arms beneath her chest. "So. That true? You into kuudere ice-queen types?"
Rus gave her the kind of half-smile that wasn't really a smile at all. "She's pretty. But it was half a joke. Don't remember signing up for your harem."
Berta grinned, wolfish. "Not yet. But you know me, keep blueballing me long enough, and I start thinking about just devouring the prey outright."
Rus snorted. "Try it and I'd probably punch you in the face."
Her grin widened. "Yeah, but it'd be hot if you did. I don't mind a man being physically dominant. Better than those Counters in the other field, roided freaks who think flexing is a personality. You? You've got the muscle, the frame, and somehow don't look like shit. How the fuck do you keep a body like that and still look good?"
Rus shrugged. "Dunno. We all have our own mutations."
Berta's grin faltered into a frown. She stared at him for a beat too long, cursing under her breath. "You piss me off, you know that? Not mindless, not giving in, just standing there. Makes you a damn good friend, sure, but it screws with my head. You'd fuck Amiel, but not me? What the hell is that?"
Rus cocked his head. "Are you mentally ill?"
"No," she shot back instantly. Then she laughed once, sharp and bitter. "But some men, men like you, make me want to push them down. Just to see if they'd break."
Rus gave her a flat stare. "Don't do anything without consent."
Berta rolled her eyes. "Bah. I don't. Relax, Boss. I'm not stupid. But still—" She jabbed a finger at him. "You piss me off."
"That's all you've got to say?" Rus asked, unimpressed.
"Yup." She turned toward the door, then stopped, smirking over her shoulder. "Also—don't fuck with my girls. Anyone but Amiel. She's our baby doll. Try anything with her, and I'll have my girls pin you down while I empty you out."
For a second, Rus almost let something slip, some half-joking promise of a "good time." But he bit it back. This was Berta. With her, jokes were consent, and consent meant she'd be on him like a starving wolf. Better to leave the tension in the air, sharp-edged and toxic but familiar. Their way of keeping boredom at bay.
Without waiting for a response, Berta slung her MG across her shoulders, rolling them so the straps caught against her collarbones. Her back flexed as she walked out, sunlight catching the tone of her muscles and the curve of sideboob she never bothered to hide. She vanished into the bright day like she owned it.
Rus shook his head.
The door creaked open again almost immediately. Kate stepped in, holding another folder. Her eyes darted to the door Berta had just left through.
"Glad she didn't assault you," Kate said matter-of-factly.
Rus leaned back again, rubbing at his eyes. "If she tried, I'd knock her out."
Kate nodded once, calm as ever. "Good answer."
* * *
Rus summoned Amiel after lunch.
She came exactly as expected, silent, precise, her boots making barely a sound against the prefab floor as she stepped into his office. She looked at him with that same expressionless face she always wore, rifle slung across her back, drone floating lazily at her side.
He didn't waste time.
"You told Berta what I said."
Amiel blinked once. "Yes."
Rus leaned forward on the desk, voice flat but sharp. "Do you realize how dangerous that was? Feeding her that kind of fuel? She's unstable enough without you throwing gasoline on the fire."
Amiel tilted her head, eyes blank, lips set in a neutral line. "I thought honesty was preferable."
"Not when honesty gets me pinned to a wall by a bloodthirsty sex maniac," Rus shot back. His voice didn't rise, but the edge was there, hard and unmissable. "I don't care if you think it was a joke or a passing comment, you don't tell Berta something like that. Ever."
Amiel's gaze didn't shift. "Understood," she said softly, expression still carved from stone. "Apologies."
The words were there, but the face stayed the same.
Rus narrowed his eyes. She might've been a statue for all the sincerity she showed. He reached across the table, snagging her rifle scope from the pile of gear she'd left on the side. Turning it over in his hands, he squinted down the glass like he was the sniper now.
Amiel's jaw twitched. Her drone whirred closer.
"Don't touch that," she said flatly.
Rus ignored her. He adjusted the dial, smirked, then reached for the drone instead, poking at its interface until it wobbled awkwardly in midair.
Amiel moved. Fast. Her clawed hand shot forward to snatch the scope back, but Rus was faster. He intercepted, blocking her wrist with his forearm, holding her there just long enough to make the point.
"Never," he said, voice low, "tell Berta something like that again."
For the first time, Amiel's face cracked, not much, just a faint frown, a subtle tightening around her eyes.
"I was telling the truth," she said.
Rus stared at her. "Sometimes the truth is a weapon. You need to learn when to keep the safety on."
She pulled her hand back, fingers flexing around the air. Her mouth pressed into a thin line, shoulders stiff.
"Socialize," Rus said finally, setting the scope back down on the desk like a toy he was finished with.
Her eyes narrowed just a fraction. "Pointless."
"Necessary," Rus countered.
She gave him a long look, then turned sharply on her heel and marched toward the door, drone trailing behind her like a sullen pet.
The second she was gone, Kate, leaning against the prefab wall just outside, clearly eavesdropping burst into laughter.
"Holy shit," she wheezed, clutching her stomach. "You actually told Amiel to socialize? She's going to put a bullet through a tree just to prove a point."
Rus rubbed at his face. "She'll live."
Kate grinned. "Maybe. But watching her march away like someone just insulted her favorite brand of soap? Worth it."
She sauntered off, still laughing, while Rus leaned back in his chair and exhaled through his nose.
Discipline was easy when it came to rookies. Harder when it came to people you actually respected. Harder still when the truth was the only language half the squad spoke.
He reached for his cigarette tin and shook it once. Empty.
Figures.
Later, as Rus had just finished scrawling his signature across another requisition when the knock came.
"Enter."
The prefab door swung open and in came Dan, Gino, and Foster, filing in with the kind of stiff posture soldiers pretended to have when they wanted to look professional. Dan carried a slate, Gino had a stack of field notes tucked under his arm, and Foster looked like he hadn't slept but was still grinning anyway.
They lined up in front of his desk, boots snapping together in half-hearted unison.
"Lieutenant," Dan began, voice clipped. "Patrol sweeps of the eastern perimeter complete. No monster presence, minimal wildlife. Gobber tunnels in grid twenty-three were already sealed by engineering. Confirmed stable."
"Rookies ran drills on the western wall," Gino added. "Two froze up on target practice. One got yelled at by Stacy until he puked. Otherwise no incidents worth noting."
Foster scratched at his jaw, then added, "Couple of them nearly shot each other in the mess over seating arrangements. Nothing major. We handled it."
Rus nodded, leaning back in his chair. "Good. Keep them busy. Bored rookies are dangerous rookies."
The three exchanged quick glances. Then, like vultures circling fresh meat, the professionalism started to melt.
"Sir," Dan said carefully, "with all due respect… are you crushing on Amiel?"
Rus blinked once, flat and slow. "What?"
Gino smirked. "I mean, it's the talk of half the squad. You and her, ice queen and all that. Berta's been kicking the shit out of people just to vent about it."
Foster snorted. "She nearly broke a tree yesterday. And I'm pretty sure she threatened a recruit for smiling too long in her direction. Classic jealous behavior, if you ask me."
Rus pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling through his teeth.
"Think whatever you want," he muttered.
That only made the grins widen. Dan's shoulders shook with suppressed laughter, Gino tried and failed to keep a straight face, and Foster actually chuckled out loud before they remembered they were still technically in his office.
"Dismissed," Rus said flatly.
"Yes, sir," they chorused, before shuffling out like three idiots who thought they'd won something.
When the door clicked shut, Rus leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling for a long moment.
He made a mental note. Never joke with Amiel again.