"Panic? What panic? Hey, Luc!" Rob's booming voice echoed through the mess hall as he stepped in. "Sergeant Rhodes reporting for stew" he saluted with a smile, sniffing the air. He took the chair opposite to Dr. Seris and leaned forward, whispering to her ear: "I ran a 7-715. Comm-link's fine, all systems are go. White Tower's not responding 'cos there's nobody on the other side to pick up the phone." Then he retreated back into the chair, observing Dr. Seris' expression.<br/><br/>"I wouldn't worry about politics, if I were you. Frankly, us military people are as tired of governing civilians as they are tired of us." he laughed out loud. "There's a reason why politics should be made by politicians, doc. We're not good with treaties and diplomacy and whatnot. Give us something to shoot and something to..." he hesitated for a moment, remembering he was talking to a lady, and continued: "something to sleep on, and we're happy as it is."<br/><br/>He turned to the young cook and winked at him. "Chef, tell your sarge how long that stew of yours will take, my belly's upset with me."<br/><br/>He laughed at his own joke, but the smile never reached his eyes. He was concerned and good acting was never a part of military training. He looked around and added:<br/><br/>"What's the mechanic doing in the hallway, anyway? Somebody send him to fix the coffee machine instead of poking around with the lights. I can live in the dark but another day without coffee and I'll go ferenzi on people."<br/><br/>It was a military joke, turning the name of the virus into a common verb like that. He said it without thinking, and then he realized that given the current status of affairs, it wasn't the most appropriate of jokes. He shut his mouth, slightly embarrassed, hoping that there would be no awkward silence.