And here's chapter two of the Human series for RvB. This week (hour?) is Sarge. Reflecting on his men. Last chapter's "emotion" as I've decided each chapter will be based off one soldier and focused around one emotion, was Loneliness. Sarge's emotion here... is Compassion. In his own way. And here we go!

Human, A Life Lesson
Chapter 2. Sarge.

'You're welcome, Sarge.'

'You're both an excellent leader and a handsome man, Sir.'

'When you die, can I have your armor?'

Sarge wasn't entirely sure what it was about his special little group of soldiers that made him smile. Maybe it was the sarcastic tones in Grif's voice whenever the commanding officer reprimanded him for doing exactly the same thing he was supposed to do. Maybe it was the constant stream of compliments from Simmons, no matter how forced and obvious they were. Or maybe it was all the little comments Donut offered, no matter how out of place or goofy they were. Whatever it was, it sure made him happy to be the commanding officer of this particular group.

He actually enjoyed getting that growl into Grif's voice when the younger man attempted to talk back to him. He could imagine the soldier behind the armor turning red and puffing out his cheeks in anger like some great puffer-fish. The image always made him laugh.

He got a good laugh out of setting Simmons against the orange Spartan, too. Simmons' language seemed to get worse around Grif and he almost became the most foul-mouthed and angry man Sarge had ever met. He'd scream at Grif and the two would argue over the stupidest things, like Grif's inability to do just about anything he was told to do or Simmons' unstoppable ass-kissing.

And he couldn't help but adore Donut's obviously gay outlook on the world, and making fun of him for it, of course. The constant "It's light-ish red!" shouts of broken dignity were funny enough in their own right. He was probably the girliest soldier Sarge had ever met, even more so than that Tex chick on the Blue team. Donut was entirely entertaining and a damn good scapegoat.

And yet, even with how harshly he treated them all and how much he loved bringing out the worst in his soldiers, Sarge couldn't help but love them for their good points too.

Grif's odd ability to do the right thing without trying was a skill many a soldier would kill for. No matter how much Grif acted like he didn't like to work, the orange Spartan knew what he was doing and he did what needed to be done, which was more than Sarge could say for himself sometimes.

And he practically lived off the compliments he got from Simmons. That soldier knew how to kiss ass and he did a damn good job of it. He'd probably shine Sarge's shoes if given the order, and Sarge wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't give that order some day soon. His boots could use a good shining, after all.

He smiled in secret behind his helmet whenever Donut cooked for them all. And the decorations the pink Spartan had added to the base were definitely an improvement to the place. The base in the middle of a box canyon on an alien planet almost felt like home when they came in after a long day watching the Blues do absolutely nothing across the canyon.

Sarge sighed, shaking his head and closing his eyes. "Don't get all misty about your own boys," he told himself, chuckling as he pushed thoughts of Grif and Simmons yelling at each other while Donut screamed like a girl in the background right out of his head. It was late, and if he didn't get to sleep soon, he'd be exhausted tomorrow. And then he'd never be able to insult Grif properly, or give Simmons a sufficient amount of orders. And he might even miss a horribly sick and twisted innuendo that Donut didn't even know he was saying. That, of course, would never do.

Short and difficult. I can't write Sarge... Like at all.