<div class="floatleft">(http://media-cache-cd0.pinimg.com/736x/d9/98/1e/d9981e79a951efe0acb3b4d05f1a5ac1.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: small;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><strong>Name:</strong>Jena Hargreave</span></span></span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: small;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><strong>Location:</strong> Barracks</span></span></span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: small;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><strong>Action:</strong> Snerking and Taking a Load Off</span></span></span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: small;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><strong>Tagging: </strong>All; Dawn.<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/>"No gear, huh? We gonna have a camera crew with us, like<em> Naked an' Afraid?</em>" For all she joked about it, she was a bit disgusted. Seemed like even now the good Ol' You Ass of SayWhut couldn't come up with a plan to deal with an alien issue. Congress was probably on vacation again, or something. The Bosslady didn't seem amused- at least she didn't bother answering that question, either.<br/><br/>"Glad I brought my own toybox, then."  She stroked the huge police shotgun before slinging it over her back, checked her holster. Then, realizing the Colonel was done trying to cheer them up, and had dismissed them, she headed for the bunk where she'd stowed her bag when she arrived, and started to shed her camo gear and web sling. She'd gotten the stuff courtesy of a Militia boy she'd been sorta dating; they'd parted ways when she realized he was all about Barefoot and Pregnant, plus a few other repugnant political opinions.<br/><br/>When the bugs hit Denton she'd sorta wished he'd still been around, though...<br/><br/>She was down to a cutoff t-shirt with the familiar "These Colors Don't Run" logo (but, oddly a United Nations flag on it) and a khaki mesh thong, when the sound of steel on steel attracted her attention. Glancing around, she saw a chick with long red hair putting an edge on a chopper nearly as big as she was.  That looked worth getting to know more about, so strapping her Sam brown back around her flat hips, she sauntered over and looked down on the other ginger where she sat.<br/><br/>"You settin' up as camp barber, hun? Could use a trim mah own self..."</span></span></span>