"That's a rather grim way to look at it, goyim. I'm surprised you made it out of that first battle of yours."<br/><br/>The sudden voice came from among themselves, or rather a young man with a very bright and optimistic smile standing next to their table. His ravenhaired bedhead showed that he had probably been sleeping in one of the many couches that lined the walls of the large room. He seemed like a hard thing to miss though, being a seven feet tall lithe-muscled man in a tight white jumpsuit with rolled up arms that contrasted well with his seemingly desert-tanned skin. To Erich he was a splitting image of Colonel Dayan, except that the Colonel never smiled with his eyes and the young man's aquiline nose had only been broken once instead of... a thousand times.<br/><br/>"Formal training gives discipline, important even if you throw the rest of it out with your dirty underwear." He spun a chair around and straddled it leisurely, taking a toothpick from the table tray and putting it between his impossibly white smile. "Milan Dayan, light lance Leftenant in the Netzach Dayan. And here's Erich, Ranna, Elisa and the two unknowns. Pleased to meetcha all, shalom and all that."