Whiskey Foxtrot rubs his head in discomfort, and takes a swig of his moonshine
Whiskey Foxtrot: Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuughhhhhh, just THINKING about any of you yahoos in charge of all that ammo scares the hell out of me.
Whiskey inhales and exhales deeply, calming himself for the ■■■■ show he was now imagining
Whiskey Foxtrot: Knowing Mike, he’d probably do something stupid and require all munitions to be stored in box fort formation.
Have you ever tried to find a specific kind of ammo after Mike sorted it? It’s f*cking impossible!
As for Montana, he’d probably make you all hug each other instead of salute. And the guy’s cool, but no one wants be near his tree trunk arms when he wants a hug. 'Course, he might do it anyway, but he can’t fire you if you refuse.
Benedict, we both know you’d be an awful leader, you’re almost as bad as I am with planning. In fact, I STILL have nightmares about the Solus Day Sack Race you put together!
Galilea’s a fcking psychopath, and that’s coming from ME. I stabbed Pendles over a rodeo clown, and she scares the sht outta me.
Put her in charge of training the noobs in boot camp, and see if anyone steps outta line after she murders the first guy.
Whiskey Shudders at the thought
Whiskey Foxtrot: Honestly, you’d all suck at leading, and that INCLUDES Ernest. The guy doesn’t have a charismatic bone in his body.
Fck it, make Ghalt in charge of everything UPR. He’s the only UPR Captain I’ve got any respect for, he gets sht DONE. Without the condescending tude.