(A/N: This is based off of the habit I have taken up myself after watching Jean Havoc.)
11 Pen
"Fuery, what do you have in your mouth?"
"Oh! Lieutenant Hawkeye...it's just my pen..." He waved the blue pen at her.
"Well, be sure to do more signing than chewing."
"Yessir, sorry." Fuery continued filling out the paperwork on his desk. Without the pen though, he felt like he was missing something. The comfort the pen brought him was confusing in itself. Only recently had the master sergeant taken up gnawing on small, cylindrical objects. Well, not really gnawing, he just kept it between his lips, sometimes his teeth. It was a strange habit.
"Hey, kid. Mind taking some of my papers, since you're almost done and all."
Fuery looked up at the one who had spoken. Blond hair, shocking blue eyes, and a cigarette dangling from pale lips. Oh. That explained it.