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These stories, transcribed verbatim for posterity, are non-canon; [1] all material from these stories is to be kept within this article. It's not often that anyone in Sicario , or Hitman , comments on each others vices. Prez has her sweets, Diplomat has his unsustainable financial endeavors which has made him half-owners of half-closed restaurants and bars up and down the Periphery , and Comic , perhaps most plainly, has the drink. Dip is half-drunk himself off of the local vodka as he's more focused on the stars overhead.
Prez is more pleased with the fact she has rigged up the rusted projector as Monarch is more than willing to use his data tablet to provide the showing tonight: Republic of Albion Broadcasting's Planet Blue. It's a nature documentary out of Albion's public service, lovingly shot footage of the more naval nature of that fire-cursed world. The scene that they gloss over is that about pollution. Turtles, off the coast of Daegu in the Federation, getting caught in the plastic packaging of the drink.
The glass dinks against Diplomat's forehead. She is. Perhaps it is the particular inebriation that keeps Hitman warm as the cool air of the plains wash over them, but all of them have to be distracted by something. The water is hardly crystal clear, foggy particulates bump into the camera lens as divers are under water, desperately trying to calm said turtles with plastic rings around flippers and necks.
Monarch is totally captivated, and for a moment, Prez is glad, neglecting to tell Monarch that her family eats the creatures. So she sips her own tin of drink and lets the movie night play out. Comic can only intensify her efforts, for she has no supply shortage of nips. It's not everyday that Dip can rely on the experiences of a former life, but he is more than willing to lay back in reclining leather seats as a warm towel flows over his forehead and he is, for probably the first time in a year, wearing something not meant for utility, warfare, regulation, or of the such.
