Connie’s eyes widened quietly, an anxious chill running down his spine. He hated it when he knew what someone had said was his own damn language, but despite that, he couldn’t understand a single thing they had enunciated.
“I’m questionin’ what you’re even questionin’, dude. You don’t gotta talk in circles, ya know.”
He understood what kind of person Connie was after that: the dumb type. Those ones were usually the first to die at the missions because the brain worked slowly – not as the Corporal ever wished this for any of his comrades, no matter how stupid they were. After all, this boy just seemed to be trying to be friendly, even though he was failing so hard on it.
“Instead of questioning shit you should get straight to the point.”
“Okay, okay–here’s my damn point: what the hell am I supposed to call ya? Sir or somethin’? Or… I dunno.” Springer stumbled to find exactly what he wanted to ask the officer. In his haphazard attention span, he had forgotten exactly what it was he intended to ask the man.
He hated feeling stupid; this guy had a way of driving that point home. Connie knew, deep down, that he was smart. Perhaps not in the way most would consider conventional, but he knew a thing or two about understanding and communicating with people. Hell, maybe he was better at that than the Corporal was.