Oberon  hissed a string of disjointed words at the casual blow, meaningless in any language but clearly venting annoyance. He rubbed at the back of his head a moment and glowered at the vodka as if blaming the booze for what had happened.<br/><br/>The glare didn’t fade as the helmet was slid to him, though his brows drew together, turning the look more perplexed, picking it up and peering inside to look over the wiring. “Better, very better,” he said gratefully. “I will look for real vodka for you, not this piss” He gave a distracted salute and put the helmet on, checking all the needed to work would do so efficiently and making sure the radio was on the right secure frequency.<br/><br/>Without bothering to take it off, Oberon went back to the guard’s office he had claimed for his sleeping quarters and slid into the heavy metal armour. Without it powered, it was almost impossible to walk for any distance, let alone do it swiftly. Even with the weight carriers online, it was still hard going. These protective suits were not made with much thought towards the comfort of the soldier within.