It's been a while (Pasta Man)

The platoon and Sentinel had been travelling for a couple days, relocating to a different camp. Since they'd lost the battle for the Hoover Dam, things had took a steep turn south. He'd made it out of the battle barely alive, but alive enough to become bitter. He'd spent weeks alone, with a high amount of chems and a low amount of worries. He had a fresh new scar, extending from the point of the left side of his jawline down his neck. He hadn't even noticed the wound during the battle- well, there was only so much one man could take in at a time.

After moping for a good two weeks, he'd got his ass back in action. The NCR was crippled, a swift blow to the ego and a bigger blow to their forces taken from the Strip. The Courier had rallied against them, speaking love stories of a 'free' New Vegas and independence for all that wanted it. Sentinel had disagreed with this statement to a measure that was almost polar; despite their shortcomings, he was NCR through and through. Him and some other survivors of the battle got more power (although no shiny new title, which was a little upsetting to Sentinel) over the few forces they still had.

And now, he lead some of those forces. A small platoon of eight men, he had been told they were needed elsewhere. He lead with a confident swagger, a sort of 'i got this' tone in his step and facial expression. In addition to his NCR gear he wore large aviator shades, and held a 10mm SMG in his arms. He cradled it like a child. After all, it had saved his ass more than once in the battle. Upon approaching the camp, he mentally planned to make his way to whoever was in charge, but these hopes were intercepted by a rather large man.

Oh my God. He had just got his men to stop calling him that, and here was Xito, calling him it again- but it was Xito! Sentinel grinned for the first time in weeks, making a soft 'oof' noise as he was pulled into a bear hug. He folded the gun against his chest, lest it was fired.

Sentinel looked up at him, beaming. "I've been good. What the hell are you doing here, and how the hell are you still alive?"

Xito was.. so affectionate towards him. It was a change of pace, a flying lead change that took him off kelter for a moment, made a shy smile appear across his usually firm and stern features. He returned the shoulder squeeze with a playful punch on the shoulder, that being all the affection you could get out of Sentinel- when around others, at least.

For now, he fell into step with his men again, glad when Xito followed him. He'd buffed up a bit since the last time they'd seen another, arms nothing less than tree trunks, looking almost strange when he cradled the gun in a fashion similar to how one would hold his or her own child. He lifted a brow, grinning. "Probably because you were a wimp and stayed out of direct fire." He teased, before continuing.

"No, I was a bit stupid during the war. Reckless. For every couple of shots that made it, there were four or five just for me, which came damn close to it. But.. ah well. I'm still here, you're still here, that's the most important thing." He nodded. Upon reaching the center of the camp, he dismissed his men, inviting them to do what they liked until the next day. He had a handful of catching up to do with his buddy ol' pal.

He looked up at him, lifting a brow at his words. "I didn't agree with the Courier, but I wasn't out to snuff him." He shrugged. "I honestly can't say if I see us as completely innocent.. I mean, with all that's being going on, and especially how a few guys above me despise the independence of the strip that much..." He trailed off, holstering his weapon. "But I'm not about to go anywhere. I still love what I do."