After Momoi finished the belt, he looked over his shoulder, pulling the smoking M240B off of the spare wheel of his WLA. “Are you kidding me? I thought you guys were here to collect the brass.”

“Well then I guess you’ll have to settle for cold cheese, cold meat, and these icky little dried berries.” Momoi said with a smile, flicking a dried Arlbom cherry at Makarat.

Momoi looked up from his half finished wooden wolf, twirling the small carving knife in his hand. "Whats wrong with my tattoos? Whats next, you going to say my chin is too hairy or my hair is too long? Whats with you Southern Elves and wanting all your men to look like women anyway?"