You head over to the mess hall.
The moment you walk inside, the room seems to explode into action as an argument reaches critical mass. People are nervously eyeing the central table, where eight soldiers are having a heated debate, four to a side. One of the men on the side closest to your group stands up and yells, "Fine then, you prick. Don't expect me or any of my men to save your ass out there!"
"That's fine," a man on the opposing side stands up too, "Don't expect any favours from the Tenth, asswipe."
"If that's the way you want to play it," a man who has clearly had too much alcohol stands up on the side closer to you and throws a haymaker at the guy who spoke. The eight men quickly became a rolling mess as they brawled around the floor, punching and kicking.
Annette follows shortly after, taking her own standard issue pistol. Unless it's against protocol or something. To breakfast!
When the scene unfolds before you, the hair on the back of your neck rises. On instinct, you look around and scan the canteen. A tall Edonese man with the insignia of a Private is staring straight at you with one eyebrow cocked. As he notices you looking, he jerks his head at the empty seat opposite him, where a coffee steams with no owner.
"Our mechs are arriving tomorrow and we weren't the first ones here. You are a pilot, right? Then you should know how much equipment and infrastructure it takes to service one of those machines. Everyone else here has definitely been here a couple of weeks before us." Michela casually slings her SMG over her shoulder and heads to get breakfast along with everyone else.
You notice the exchange between Annette and the Edonese guy. You recall that the Edonese were on the opposite side of the war. What was this guy doing here then?
The rest of you do not catch the exchange because of the scene unfolding before you. A group of three privates jump into the fray to try and break it up.