Quoted By:
"...Does the VIP section count as Schola grounds?" you hestitated to ask. What of Aleta? She had a gun in her!
"No."
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You trudged out of Basic Weaponry, yet another mind-numbing session of reciting the names of guns and stuff with eight-year-olds. But at least it was over now, and you got to the cafeteria.
As you neared its double-doors, the familiar murmur morphed into something altogether different - a cacophony of breathless whispers and barely-contained squeals. You discreetly tried to sneak in, but suddenly, another door in the cafeteria burst open with a bang that rattled the serving trays. You saw a monstrously obese Drill Abbot that stood framed in the other doorway, his eyes, wide and bulging, seemed to scan the room like a heat seeker.
"SHUT THE *FUCK* UP YOU HORNY SLUTS." he roared, his voice a gravel avalanche. "KEEP YER FILTHLY FINGERS *OVER* THE TABLE AND YER FUCKING EYES *ON* YOUR FUCKING MEAL."
The room went dead quiet. Eyes darted away from you in a flurry of panicked glances. The Abbot scanned the scene, his chest heaving like a malfunctioning furnace.
"Much better," he wheezed, his voice dropping to a guttural growl. "Now, psyker guy" he added, a sly glint in his eye. "Eat up. Yer in for some real big fun today. Yer all 'recharged', yeah?"
"Uh, yes, sir." you nervously muttered, feeling that your deck was pleasantly warm again.
You sat with the usual trio of Tech-Priest students, and ate breakfast in total silence, but before you left, one of them zipped into your pocket a paper note with the following:
"Got you hooked up with Zlatino if you want to do your Candidate-level internship there, but you owe me your dessert if you take it :D."
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