David stared down at the officer passed out at his desk.  The place reeked of booze to his senses, though to someone else it might have been less overpowering.  Drunk, uniform disheveled, dead drunk and passed out as his desk, with the door not even locked.  And this was the man he had been assigned to.<em>Its like dangling bait in front of a hungry wolf...</em>So many ways to resolve this situation, so many of them permanent.  For him, or for Warren.  Or for both.  But at the moment, not worth the price.  He pulled a piece of paper off the top of a nearby stack and wrote a quick message before sliding the note and his personnel folder under the arms of the unconscious officer.<br/><br/><em> Sir,<br/><br/>You seemed indisposed when I arrived to report in.  Here's my paperwork.<br/><br/>D. Feather</em><br/><br/>And as quietly as he had arrived, he was gone.  He adjusted the pack over his shoulders with practiced ease, barely noticing the weight as he moved toward the galley.<em>Improvised quarters.  I guess I missed all the excitement.</em>He snagged a piece of something to snack on and looked for a spot to sit, winding up settling in beside an attractive young lady with dark hair and eyes.<br/><br/>He fished out a needle and thread and began sewing the patch for his new unit onto various shirts pulled from his bag.  "Hope this spot isn't taken."