(no subject)
Characters: Mal Reynolds, OPEN
When: Wednesday morning
Where: Lost in the school halls right before class
Rating: PG
Description: Teaching High School had to be easier than jumping out of planes, right?
It had taken Sergeant Malcolm Reynolds four years after the War had ended to get back home to the States. The fact he had jumped on D-day, survived the Battle of the Bulge, and had been combat wounded more times he cared to admit, never seemed to cross the minds of the brass handing out the points for soldiers to return home. Sure his CO had tried his best to get him out of Europe but the cadre had other ideas. Noone had ever said the people calling the shots behind the lines were the brightest apples in the basket. He'd also had various jobs since returning to the States leaving the twenty-eight year-old somewhat of a drifter. Truth be told he was quite surprised when he found himself in the quaint little town with a teaching job. Literature. English. High School. It was enough to make Mal wish he was back fighting the Krauts.
Dressed in his Army uniform, the man walked through the halls ignoring the looks that he was getting from some of the students, hat tucked under his arm and briefcase in hand. Sure he didn't exactly own any other suits or anything aside from his old uniform. He was a progressive teacher. The students would learn that fast enough from him. It had been a kick to the balls to learn he'd also be assisting with gym with one of the possible teams to boot. Tell a person you were a paratrooper in your resume and the whole world just sort of thinks you know everything about physical health.
Right now he just wanted to find his damned room.
When: Wednesday morning
Where: Lost in the school halls right before class
Rating: PG
Description: Teaching High School had to be easier than jumping out of planes, right?
It had taken Sergeant Malcolm Reynolds four years after the War had ended to get back home to the States. The fact he had jumped on D-day, survived the Battle of the Bulge, and had been combat wounded more times he cared to admit, never seemed to cross the minds of the brass handing out the points for soldiers to return home. Sure his CO had tried his best to get him out of Europe but the cadre had other ideas. Noone had ever said the people calling the shots behind the lines were the brightest apples in the basket. He'd also had various jobs since returning to the States leaving the twenty-eight year-old somewhat of a drifter. Truth be told he was quite surprised when he found himself in the quaint little town with a teaching job. Literature. English. High School. It was enough to make Mal wish he was back fighting the Krauts.
Dressed in his Army uniform, the man walked through the halls ignoring the looks that he was getting from some of the students, hat tucked under his arm and briefcase in hand. Sure he didn't exactly own any other suits or anything aside from his old uniform. He was a progressive teacher. The students would learn that fast enough from him. It had been a kick to the balls to learn he'd also be assisting with gym with one of the possible teams to boot. Tell a person you were a paratrooper in your resume and the whole world just sort of thinks you know everything about physical health.
Right now he just wanted to find his damned room.