Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-27344811-20190227154021/@comment-27661770-20190227175753

"Everyone, to each other. And those four..."

He gestures to the SteelBallRun vets.

"leaving the ship for whatever reason. Anyways, I might have already said this but for the newbies I'm H3. I see Nazis I cannot be legally held responsible for the bloodbath that follows, just stay outta the way if you're not helping."

Johnson takes his cigar out of his mouth, puffing out smoke a reasonable distance from most everyone else.

He brought an ashtray, how conscientious.

"Sergeant Major Avery Johnson, UNSC. Back home they know I'm a DAMN tough sunuvabitch, and that over there's Master Chief, 117. Goes by John, and you think you can beat him in a fight he could just throw the whole damn ship at you an' call it that. Got a brain like his fists, too: strong, sharp, and bigger'n yours or mine."

Master Chief didn't seem too enthused to be bragged about, but who knew behind that orange-golden visor?

Cheese man's turn now.

"Gyro Zeppelli, physician, executioner, Spin master, and gentleman. At your service. ...and songwriter and singer!"

He held back the biggest grin. They might think he sang normal songs.

As. If!