To Marina, the militia's mess hall was a vast sea of noise. Pointless chatter mingled with the clatter of knives and forks, Largo's booming laugh sounding clearly over it all. She scowled in frustration at the thought of having to sit at one of the crowded, boisterous tables. The Lieutenant might even make her talk with them, and the thought of enduring empty conversation for at least twenty minutes, three times a day, every day for the remainder of the war made her long for the silence of the woods. She might have gone outside to eat, but Captain Varrot had found her perched on the barracks roof with her dinner last night and lectured her fiercely about how important it was for the squad to eat together. "Unit cohesion, Sharpshooter Wulfstan." She'd said, as if those magic words would send Marina skipping into the mess hall like Edy for another round of interminable discussion.

Someone behind her-Rosie, by the sound of it-nudged her in the back and demanded to know why she was holding up the lunch line. Glumly, she trudged through the boisterous landscape, eyes and ears engaged in a futile search for some small pocket of quiet. She roamed aimlessly between the tables, her heart sinking lower with each step.

And then, against all odds, she found a place of (relative) silence.

That lancer from Randgriz, Daerden, Nils Daerden, was seated at a table in the back-left corner of the room. He sat alone, and it seemed as though the chatter was slightly muted around his table. Marina supposed that it was the way he grimaced at the table, looking as though he was in the very depths of hell. Ah, so he hated idle chatter, too.

Perhaps it was true what they said, about misery loving company. More to the point, his table was the quietest it was likely to get in the mess hall, and if she sat there Sergeant Melchiott wouldn't try to cajole her into sitting with everyone else. Of course, she'd still have to sit with him, but there was quite a lot of space at the table, and at this point Marina would take whatever the fates were willing to give her.

She walked up to the table, eyes fixed on the floor, and sat down as quickly as she could, well away from the Lancer. Nils glanced up at her, a warning flashing in his eyes, but she coolly returned his glare and stayed silent. Eventually he looked back to his plate, satisfied that she wasn't going to talk his ear off, and resumed his work demolishing a double-helping of roast pork.

Marina picked away at her food as the minutes ticked by, until she cleaned her plate and felt the noise start to decrease. She looked up and saw the rest of Squad 7 eagerly filing out of the mess hall, off to kill time in their own ways for the rest of the afternoon. Marina set her food to one side (she considered grabbing some tidbits for Hans, but feeding pork to another pig seemed too cruel) and waited. Finally there was blessed silence, and Marina closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair, savoring the fact that she could hear herself think again.

She opened her eyes and found Nils scraping his plate clean. For an awkward moment, their eyes met, but Marina quickly stood and looked away, heading out the door without another word. She mulled over her relatively peaceful lunch as she headed across the parade ground, towards the woods. It could have gone worse, she reflected, relaxing slightly as she entered the darkness of the forest. At least Nils had been quiet. There were worse things than having to sit at his table every day, and he hadn't tried to talk to her. Yet.

God, what a nightmare that would be.

AN: Pretty short, this one. I'm going on vacation, but I'll add more chapters as soon as I get back. I just think this is a pretty cool idea, and I was excited with the announcement of VC4. As always, tell me what you think, either through PM or review. Cheers!

Maple