StG set her glass of beer down on the table and sat back in the chair. It wasn't often that she took the time to relax, and it felt odd to recline in the booth, sinking into the worn leather upholstery as the taste of beer faded in her mouth. In fact, this was the first time she had visited the café in months. The doll did not consider herself a heavy drinker, if one at all, but she had decided that she ought to have a beer or two, if only to gain some solitude. There was no better way to be undisturbed than to have a drink in a corner of a room.

As it were, she had a drinking partner. G43 sat with closed eyes across from her in the booth, her own glass of beer half-drained. StG contemplated the other doll. G43 was quite her opposite, an optimistic, unassuming doll quick to action. Perhaps the only characteristic they shared was the last, though StG felt that their impulsive traits differed as well.

Regardless, the doll was good for conversation, though they had failed to engage in much of it over the past half hour. G43 claimed that she was drained from the battle only a few days ago, but StG could not comprehend how someone could still feel that way after so much time had passed. She herself had taken to the training simulations only a day afterwards, working tirelessly to beat her last performance. The doll felt annoyed by Commander Kerr's apparent reluctance to assign Hunter Squadron to any missions, though she could only guess at why. Tokarev, FAMAS, and Type 79 had all agreed that it was because Hunter Squadron was too specialized to work anything else. StG believed otherwise, but it wasn't her place to question the Commander's orders. Hunter Squadron stayed idle, and she stayed at the simulations.

G43 opened her eyes and looked down at her beer, then up at StG. "What're you on?" she asked.

"Third," said StG. The beer was of low enough strength that she was unaffected by the alcohol, so she had easily downed two beers. By the third, however, the novel taste had worn thin, and she would have trouble finishing this one with any enjoyment, let alone a fourth or fifth.

"Nice," said G43, but it was obviously a noncommittal response with no real meaning. Both dolls sighed.

"What'd you do in the defensive?" StG asked.

"Guarded an outlying supply depot," said G43. "Mostly against stragglers from the Sangvis flank that regrouped and saw us as a target."

"Mm," said StG. In her early days of service, she had often served as a guard for outposts and heliports. There had never been much action, unfortunately, certainly nothing like the Sangvis offensive the base had just suffered.

"And you?"

"Classified," said StG, dejected. She had quite liked the battle against the Sangvis Ringleader, and had hoped to share it with someone other than FAMAS, but such an opportunity seemed likely to never arise. G43 nodded slowly. She was at least aware of Hunter Squadron, but had never asked further. In a way, StG liked it that way, but she still had a burning desire to share her experiences with someone outside of her own squad, anyone. She supposed it was pride. FAMAS mentioned that annoyingly often, but StG was typically befuddled by the other doll's denouncement of her thoughts with such a descriptor. She had admittedly never tried to disprove FAMAS, but the doll seemed so convinced of her own words that StG thought that such an attempt would be fruitless.

"Do you ever envy your teammates?" she asked G43.

"Not really," said G43. "I mean, VM59 isn't that great of a shot, and the rest of them I can't really compare myself to, we're different classes."

"Right," said StG.

"What about you?"

"Not really," StG echoed. FAMAS frowned at her in her mind's eye, curling her lip and turning away, long blonde hair swinging behind her. StG closed her eyes and wished the image away.

"I was in a shooting contest with Garand once," G43 started suddenly. "World War II semi-automatic rifles against each other, I guess."

"And?"

"We tied."

How anticlimactic, thought StG. "Is that all?"

"I felt jealous for the first few days. I guess I expected to win. I was pretty cocky. But Garand was so nonchalant about it that I just sort of forgot about how I felt."

"That sounds nice," said StG. FAMAS was certainly not nonchalant.

"I guess. We don't really talk," said G43 before raising her pint glass to her lips. StG ran a finger around the lip of her own glass. Garand's face swam into view of her mind's eye as well, neutral expression shifting into disdain. Why did she hate StG so? Perhaps it's my attitude. She had been criticized for it on more than one occasion, and not just by FAMAS. But if so many disliked it, why was G43 okay with drinking with her? StG looked at the other doll, who had sat back and closed her eyes again. Perhaps her optimism simply allowed her to look over StG's faults, of which there seemed to be many.

The answer was not to be found in the bottom of a glass. StG pushed her beer towards the center of the table and folded her hands in her lap. She had bought a fresh glove from the commissary to replace the coolant-stained one from the fight. The requisitions officer, HK45, had been cheerful as ever and asked no questions, and for that StG was thankful. The fight with Garand and SVT had left a sour taste in her mouth, and the last thing she wanted to do was discuss the scuffle with someone else, especially HK45. The doll was far too nice to participate in a discussion about what StG did.

G43 burped into her fist. "Excuse me," she said.

"Excused," said StG. "How many beers have you had?"

"Five."

"How many more do you intend to have?"

G43 stared at the dregs in her glass for a second. "I dunno."

StG edged out of her seat and stood up. "Well, I think I'll go now."

"All right," said G43, relatively unperturbed. StG grabbed her glass from the table before walking away. It was only half an hour or so after dinner had been served in the mess hall, and the café was still full of dolls seeking post-dinner drinks and socializing. Rowdy dolls, drunk on alcohol and group euphoria, filled the room with their bodies and their voices, and despite the high ceilings and wide floor, StG could not help but feel a bit claustrophobic.

The doll cast her eyes about the room as she weaved between tables towards the door. The bar was crowded with patrons, two dolls standing for each one seated. StG caught sight of a frilled white apron on black, and her heart stopped for a moment, but she quickly noticed the long red hair hanging down behind it. NTW-20's gaze turned enough to catch sight of StG, and she set down her tray on the bartop.

"Haven't talked to you since the battle," NTW-20 said as they walked down the hallway, away from the café. StG looked her team leader up and down, taking in the entire costume.

"...I was busy at the sims," StG said. "And I guess you were busy too."

"Yeah?" NTW-20 asked, but StG didn't answer. "Sorry for not being with the team."

"It's fine. We're not doing much."

"We?" said NTW-20. StG's stomach turned. The doll's tone was unmistakable. "FAMAS said she hasn't talked to you since yesterday."

"I've been busy," said StG. "I don't know what the others are up to."

"Well, at least be honest," NTW-20 laughed. StG felt dizzy for a split second. The doll's derisive chuckle had made her head spin, though she could not figure out why. "I won't judge you if you don't feel like hanging out with the others."

"Really?"

StG felt NTW-20 rest a hand on her shoulder to stop her, and she briefly curled her hand into a fist. "That's not the problem," the pink-haired doll said, laughter fading into her normal enigmatic tone. StG looked up at NTW-20. Her pink eyes gazed into StG's with a neutral expression StG could not help but feel infuriated over. The doll's tone was as tranquil as her eyes, but the meaning was heavy. "The problem is what you're doing."

"They deserved it," StG said desperately. FAMAS and Tokarev were one thing to shrug off, NTW-20 another entirely. She was not as single-minded as FAMAS or as mild as Tokarev.

"Somehow, I doubt that," NTW-20 replied. "What did they say?"

"They wanted to talk," StG admitted, expected NTW-20 to scoff. The doll merely tightened her jaw. "They called me a coward. And Garand was going to mention Agent."

"You can't go beating up everyone who mentions that," NTW-20 said lightly.

"You don't understand!" StG said. "What it's like for others to rub in something like that..."

"I don't," said NTW-20. "Technically speaking, I have no right to criticize you for your actions. You were provoked, and responded. But you… overreacted."

"You sound like FAMAS," StG grumbled, though she knew that it wasn't really true. FAMAS would never have bothered to have the conversation in the first place. NTW-20 scoffed at the comparison.

"Rest assured I'm not like FAMAS," the doll said. "But that's not the point. StG, you can do better than this. You're a good soldier, and you're in Hunter for a reason."

StG felt a hole start to form in her chest at NTW-20's words. She wasn't a good soldier, that was thing, she was average at best. There was no conceivable reason for her to be in Hunter Squadron. There were dolls that had better service records and better performances, that hadn't suffered defeats and that didn't request access to the combat simulators so often. But StG said nothing as NTW-20 continued speaking.

"That reason is not to beat up other dolls and walk away from it. And, if you're going to do something like that, you should own it." That wouldn't achieve anything, thought StG, though she merely nodded. NTW-20 took her hand off her shoulder. "All right. Well, why don't we head to the dorm?"

Without an answer, NTW-20 turned and continued down the hallway, and StG followed, staring at the hem of NTW-20's dress as they walked. "What's with the outfit?"

"I work part-time in the café," NTW-20 replied. "Amarula doesn't import cheap, so Springfield said I needed to provide some sort of compensation."

StG raised an eyebrow, but said no more. NTW-20 seemed oddly comfortable in the outfit, despite how stuffy it appeared. Her pale pink hair was tied back, still hanging well past her waist. StG wondered how she could stand such excess length in a combat environment, but refrained from asking.

The walk to the dorm was long and quiet. Most dolls on the base were at dinner or in the café, or otherwise occupied with a work assignment. StG had learned from G43 that Kerr was keeping most dolls busy with some kind of task, be it daily patrols or defense construction after the battle, working the air traffic control tower or the radio station, helping to move crates of supplies or guarding depots. StG wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse that Hunter Squadron had been passed over for assignment to one of these tasks: on the one hand, they were avoiding the monotony of busy work, but they were condemned to a boredom entirely different. StG was unaware of what the other three were doing to occupy their time, having avoided talking with them since the fight with Garand.

NTW-20 stopped by the door and punched in the keycode. As she swung the door open, StG could hear voices from inside.

"...so I put a round through its head and called it a night," laughed FAMAS, and she was joined by a chorus of chuckles. StG slowly stepped through the doorway and closed it behind her as NTW-20 walked into the main room.

"Everyone," StG heard her say, and the others acknowledged her. The doll walked to NTW-20's side, looking over the main room. Tokarev and Type 79 sat side by side on the couch, and FAMAS was sitting on the edge of the armchair. On the floor was ARX160, sitting against the ottoman. All four had stopped laughing when NTW-20 entered, and now they briefly stared at StG before their gazes flicked back to NTW-20. "A guest?"

"Yeah," Type 79 said, as if nothing were wrong. "We ate dinner with her, so I thought it only fair."

"She's past curfew." NTW-20 placed her hands on her hips. "She needs to leave, now."

Type 79 blanched. "Yes, ma'am."

"ARX160?" NTW-20 asked, and the doll nodded. "Tell your sister I saw what she did during the defensive, and I love her work."

"She'll be happy to hear that," said ARX160, and NTW-20 flashed a smile before the smaller doll made a beeline for the exit. The pink-haired doll quickly rounded on the others as soon as the door latched shut.

"What the hell do you think that was about? Kerr would have our damn cores if she found out that you violated curfew! She's been cracking down on that stuff for a month now, you should know better."

Type 79 looked away. NTW-20 cast a judgemental eye over the other two. "Don't do it again, because it's everyone who'll punished. I'm not interested in doing unpaid KP because one of you wanted to tell someone war stories." The doll turned her gaze to FAMAS. "Why didn't you stop it?"

"I wasn't watching the time," said the green-haired doll, busy inspecting her nails. "She came before the curfew, and I didn't expect it to get so late."

"Didn't expect it to get so late," NTW-20 said sardonically. "I didn't expect you to let it. Everyone, go to your beds. StG, stay here."

The other three stood up and made for their rooms. FAMAS glared at StG as she left, as if blaming the other doll for NTW-20's ire. StG kept her face expressionless as she stared back, until NTW-20 starting speaking again.

"StG, it's not about proving yourself as worthy, or anything like that," she said, moving behind the counter and pulling open the fridge to access the food. "It's about serving Griffin."

"That's surprisingly selfless of you," StG commented. NTW-20 pulled out a piece of meat and lifted the wrapping to sniff at it, promptly tossing in the wastebin.

"Moral imperative," shrugged the doll. "We were built to do it. And it's not like defection is really an option…"

That StG could agree with. She had heard of how Kerr dealt with dolls that refused orders or attempted to circumvent her authority. However, she could not help but disagree with NTW-20. Ever since her defeat by Agent, the doll had felt the sickening urge for self-improvement only grow as she continued on in Hunter Squadron. FAMAS had not helped with the matter, her easy competence only fueling StG's envy and drive. But FAMAS only made her feel worse about herself, and StG felt shown up on each mission they went on.

"So, moral of the talk: don't beat up other dolls because they insulted your past," said NTW-20, who had given up the search for food and was leaning across the counter. StG nodded slowly. NTW-20 stared down at the counter chewed on the inside of her lip for a minute before straightening up. "I think we best get some sleep."

I don't need it. StG followed NTW-20 across the living room and into the bedroom. Normally, NTW-20 would sleep alone as the team leader, but she had chosen to take StG as a roommate. Why, StG could not say. The arrangement did not especially bother the doll, but it was unexpected, certainly not what she had expected based on the first time she met the other members of Hunter Squadron. All of them had seemed to fit the bill of judgemental elite T-dolls who, and StG assumed that they would force her to sleep alone. That arrangement would have not been wholly disliked either, given StG's preference for privacy, but NTW-20 talked so little that it was almost the same thing.

The doll seemed to be making up for it tonight, however. "I never asked what you were doing in the café," NTW-20 said as she began undressing herself. The maid outfit was not quite the same as Agent's, StG had come to notice, but it was close enough.

"Just drinking with a friend," StG replied airily. G43 could not really be considered a friend, but it was the closest StG had to one. The dolls she occasionally trained with in the simulators hardly counted.

NTW-20 removed the apron and the vest, loosening up the area around her waist and stomach. "G43, right? She's a good shot. Where d'you know her from?"

"I guess we just met on an operation a while ago, something like that." StG could not really recall where she had met G43, at least the particular one at this base. There had been a model present with the battle against Agent's forces, she knew that, but it had died just as quickly as herself when the Ringleader and her troops showed up. StG sat on the edge of her bed as she watched NTW-20.

"Huh," said the doll. She had taken off her shoes and was now unbuttoning the top. StG figured that she ought to change as well, but didn't make a move, instead picking at the tips of her gloves. NTW-20 pulled her arms out of the sleeves and reached down to pull the dress up over her head. "Doing anything tomorrow?"

"Combat sims," StG replied automatically. She had stayed at them nearly every hour after the defensive, just as she had before, though this time combat data from the defeated Sangvis ringleader had been added to improve the comprehensiveness.

NTW-20 peeled off her tights, revealing the pale white skin underneath. "You do those too often," the doll said, putting the maid costume on a hanger and placing it in the closet. "Kerr will notice."

"I hope she does," StG said firmly. The Commander had placed her in Hunter Squadron for a reason, and it was up to her to prove that she was worthy of the spot. NTW-20 turned around to face StG, folding her arms under her bust.

"Don't beat yourself up either," she reprimanded. "Did you ever hear that old saying 'all work and no play–'"

"'–makes Jack a dull boy,'" StG finished. "I'm familiar. It's a stupid phrase. I need to become a better fighter, and I'm willing to spend all of my free time in the simulators to do it."

NTW-20 pressed her lips together, but turned around and rifled through her sets of clothes for her pajamas. "Your competitiveness will see the end of you," she said finally.

"I can't kill myself in simulations."

"I mean in a battle." NTW-20 pulled out a set of red pajamas, a matching set to her wine-red lingerie. "One of these days, you're going to do something to try and "best" FAMAS or some other AR, and you'll get killed because of it. Or worse."

"That won't happen if I'm good enough to avoid it."

"You're the most arrogant doll in this base if you think that, and I've talked to Negev."

StG bit her lip and looked away from NTW-20's gaze, down to her gloves. They were exemplary of the perfection she so envied and desired, porcelain white, flat and empty. She took a deep breath. NTW-20 was right. "I can try."

She could see NTW-20 looking down at her from across the bed, but still refused to make eye contact. "Hmph," she said after a while, and began putting on the pajamas. It wasn't until she had finished buttoning up the shirt and had pulled back the covers that she spoke again. "What are you going to do?"

StG went back to plucking at her gloves tips. "More combat sims."

"You can't solve everything that way."

I know. StG closed her eyes and took another deep breath. Dislike it she could, but it was the truth. "I can try, and it'll still solve a lot.

NTW-20 climbed under her blanket. "So be it. Goodnight, StG44."

"Guten nacht," StG44 said. She stood up as NTW-20 turned off her light and rolled over. The combat simulations were run by the base computer, 24/7. StG regarded NTW-20 for only a brief second before leaving the room.