The door to the small office-area at the eastern wing of the third Battleforce's annex slammed open in the kind of dramatic way that you usually only resort to when something big is at stake, such as when the enemy crossed your border five minutes ago, or your world is under siege by Planet fucking Jupiter. This time, however, it wasn't as much so, but instead a young, eager and somewhat bewildered looking man, the rank of Staff Sergeant neatly fastened to his uniform.
"Whe...whe-he...where is the cuh-colonel?" he asked, out of breath and beet-red in his face. "I've got... got orders from HQ, said to be delivered to the Colonel... wheeeze..." A cup of water was quickly handed to the young man, who kept waving the thin slip of paper around like some form of honorific flag. Finally, a woman a few years older than him, with a calm and serious expression on her face, took the note from his hands, read the directives written on the outside of it and sighed.
"The colonel is away at the moment, I shall dispatch someone to fetch him." The young man shook his head, downing another mouthful of water, and swallowed hard.
"N... no, need to deliver in person... Commander Kurtz's orders." he wheezed again and gave the woman a pleading look.
"Very well, he's..."
The fish weren't really hungry for worm today, that much was sure. The man sitting hunched over the small, drilled hole in the ice yawned and scratched the back of his thick, blonde hair. The hair, like much else of the man, was scruffy, unkept, but in the way that didn't look bad, only natural. There was an aura of natural unkeptness around the man, despite his formal-looking officer's uniform, neatly pressed and perfectly fitted to his frame. It was in a shade of dark green, and was offset by the even darker hue of green on his trenchoat, which he'd wrapped around himself like a blanket. The sound of someone approaching through the thick layer of snow didn't even make him blink, and as whoever it was stepped out on the ice, he fiddled a bit with the wire.
"Colonel Hancock? I have a message from Commander Kurtz to you, it's..."
There was no reply, not even a flinch. Even the fish, 'though they weren't prone to biting, seemed to stop swimming for a second or two. The somewhat pale face of the man, whom we can presume to be the mentioned Hancock, looked passively at the hole as the man behind him fiddled.
"Eh... Colonel Hancock? I have a message from..."
"Non, the fish do not bite anyway, what has the old man to say, eh? Tell me when we walk, I wish to take a stroll." He stood up at once, leaving his gear where it lay and stretched slightly before plunging his hands into the pockets of his pants.
"But... sir? It's... it's 5 miles." The man looked somewhat... exasperated, but the colonel merely started walking in the general direction of HQ.
"Then you can tell me when rinding a motorcycle, non?" his steps quickly increased in pace until he was jogging, then he was running, and the poor young officer, already worn out, drooped as if someone had just disregarded his warnings that there were babies and, indeed, kittens at the exact spot the artillery was set to fire. Then, puffing out his chest, he ran up to the speeding colonel, managing to keep his pace, for now, while handing the blonde man his letter. The colonel, in turn, ripped it open and handed it back, spoke something, and then the poor staff sergeant started reading out loud from the letter.