It was a marvelously one sided game of conversation they played.

He would speak and they-

"No way, Lopez." Simmons cut off Lopez's unimpressive discription of red teams intellect, " That's not how you play minesweeper. The flag marks where the bombs are."

"Uh, Nooooo."

Lopez turned his head the two degrees he needed to see who it was that had spoken. It was Donut protesting this time. With arched blonde eyebrows he continued, " The flags are there to show where you think the bombs are. When you play the game they don't put the flags down for you. You have to figure it out based on all the numbers where the bombs will most likely be. That's how I played it."

They sat in a relative circle in the grass with only Grif breaking formation to sit with his feet in the stream. His back to them. Having tuned out most o the conversation, he glanced over his shoulder at Donut and was very calm in his smile, "You played minesweeper?"

"Well, sure! It's kinda like solitaire. It seemed dumb but its really all thinking. Haven't you played Grif?"

"Yeah right. That shit's bor~ing."

"That's because you're stupid." Simmons said.

"But I still dont get the whole point of the game…"

Grif and Simmons groaned as they regarded their youngest teammate. Then, they turned to-

"Que?" Lopez would've frowned if it was possible at the sudden attention. All three of his fellow reds wore no armor (Something they only did when Sarge was away) and despite how awkward it should have been, it was these lazy days that the others most vehemently dragged Lopez along to have these spontaneous and frivilous conversations. They would smartly discuss such things as, why rocks were all grey, why the sun was so hot even in the shade and now today the brilliant topic of the goal of minesweeper had come up. Lopez didnt know much about it, only what the reds had talked about every once in a while when things got too quiet or too boring. And even then the facts of the gameplay had been just as muddled as they were now.

Donut smiled at him like a kid who had been begging half his life and finally got his request and he cringed.

"Lopez, I think they want you to explain."

"No shit."

He started to insult all three of them in one go and sit back and let them make of his words what they would. But, just this once, he kneeled down in a more moist patch of dirt near the stream and by proxy, Grif, and with one robotic finger, drew a box full of smaller boxes. He drew circles in about six of them and looked back up.

He still had everyones attention.

Slowly he raised both his closed fists and opened them above his head, "Boom."

Donut leapt to his feet, "Oh! I get it! They're the mines right?"

Lopez nodded and Simmons and Grif drew closer in intrigue. If Donut could understand, it shouldn't be any harder for them.

Okay," Grif started, "So we see the bombs. What the fuck are the flags for?"

Lopez held up a finger for patience then drew a flag through each bomb.

Simmons immediantly sucked his teeth, "See! It's just like I said, Grif. That's where you think the bombs are."

Donut balked lavishly, "Hey! I said that- not you."

"Ugh, It's the same thing, Donut."

"Then why were you arguing with me about it earlier?"

"Uh…"

Lopez almost snickered but Grif beat him to it, "He's got you there, dude."

"Just shut up so Lopez can finish explaining."

The other reds kneeled close by him as Lopez took his que and spread his arms, "That's it."

"Lopez said thats it."

All eyes went to Donut.

"You understood that?"

Noone paid attention to the comment. Grif stood and brushed off his leisure clothes, "So then you were both right," He said simply, " You mark bombs with flags. Still pointless. This game is still stupid. But hey, at least everybody was right. Even me. The game is boring. Lets go play a manly game of poker. I'm feeling lucky."

Lopez stood up, "It's just like any other game. The goal is to win by marking all the locations of the bombs with flags…but what the fuck would you idiots know about flags? I mean its been like twelve years and you haven't capture-"

He was expecting it from Grif, but it was Simmons who cut him off this time, "Yeah... Lopez is right. Who cares."