<div class="floatleft">(http://Place URL of character icon here)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Rick Steen<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Airfield<br/><strong>Tag:</strong>John, Danuka, team.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Rick accepted the American’s hand and shook it. ‘Rick’ he introduced himself back, not using his last name, just in case. While he wasn’t famous or infamous, He had quietly made his presence known on various ops. He didn’t make his presence known or stick around to get his backslapped. But if a unit was in trouble in his area. He might get send in to help and often that meant someone grew a third eye rather rapidly.<br/><br/>‘I know the feeling’ he replied, regarding the lack of sleep on planes. The damn things simply weren’t designed with a lot of creature comforts. He regarded Johns next question. ‘I dunno, Terrorists have been fairly quiet, mostly killing their own, with IS and shit.’ He said with a frown. His English a curious accented mix of British and American English and slang. ‘not a whole lot going on for the civilized world to get a good mad on over.’ He shrugged. He had served in the sandbox his opinions had pretty much crystalized, not to the better. But he was aware of them and he was working on it.<br/><br/>As he filled up a plate with food, mostly sandwiches and some slabs of meat he heard someone speak. “Haven’t seen anything like this in a long time.” Looking up he saw another woman, her bearing military, the outfit decidedly not and an accent he most certainly couldn’t place.<br/><br/>‘What, an airbase hangar, with an open buffet?’ he inquired. ‘Yeah, that’s been a while for me too.’ He admitted. ‘As in never.’ He chuckled.<br/>