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There was a pretty healthy flock of new bloods swarming around in the canteen. Some had been here for a few months already, but this past week, they'd gotten loads of new future operators. Typically, they would gravitate towards an operator, and learn from them. Each recruit was different, and there was no set schedule for training or any guidelines for how they learned and trained. However, there was the unspoken understanding that if a recruit gravitated towards you, you should probably give them a few tips to carry on your operator legacy.
Kapkan ignored this. There were others around to babysit a bunch of lost puppies. Generally, the older operators were the only ones with enough patience to teach.
Montagne was a massive contributor for the informal training; there were plenty of recruits looking to become a sheild carrying defender. It was an honorable place, and Team Rainbow could use more protectors. The hulking Frenchman was incredibly friendly, and an upstanding mentor to anyone who approached him for some advice on how to hold a sheild. He even had lighter plastic shields to help recruits get used to holding and maneuvering the massive metal plate. Along with this, Montagne also pushed positive behaviors, and even the most moody of recruits walked away a little lighter.
Doc was also an excellent mentor. He was more stern than Gilles, and more picky, too. However, if he saw potential, he'd put in the extra effort of training them in medical practices. Usually he preferred his recruits have a basis of understanding for medical practice before he put all his time into them. His compliments felt like rain in a desert.
Tachanka needed little explanation. At first he could come off as a little threatening, but after a firm pat on the shoulder and a booming laugh, he'd correct a recruit with a small pointer. That was all that was needed, and the LMG weilding new comer would beam confidently as the Russian man walked away to go lecture someone on ancient weapons.
Even Fuze had a good hold on the few recruits that trailed after the mysterious Uzbek.
Kapkan was neither friendly, nor good at teaching.
He wasn't exactly sure what the recruits found so endearing about learning under his watch, and he would ask them, only they never stopped talking and asking him questions. They flocked around him near constantly, and only when Kapkan was in the presence of someone like Doc or Montagne, did they suddenly disappear with their tails between their legs. Maybe they just liked being annoying, and Kapkan was a prime suspect to the disrespect.
It seemed that the only time Kapkan could breathe his own air was when he was showering, or in the Spetznas dorm. It seemed bothering Kapkan while he was eating was fine, but bothering him in the shower was a no-go, so maybe they had some boundaries after all.
"Nice flock, mother goose." Glaz teased as he passed, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he grinned.
The dark cloud of anger following Kapkan around grew, and the scorching stare he shot at the sharp shooter was as deadly as his traps. The message was clear; he was in a very, very bad mood. "Do I have to babysit you too?" He ground out in a crude bark, shadowy gaze still glaring. The recruits floating around Kapkan were oblivious, in typical recruit behavior, as they trailed after Kapkan.
Putting his hands up in a show of surrender, the sniper reeled backwards and disappeared out of the canteen, mostly mocking to show that he hadn't take the offense seriously. Usually Glaz was not so submissive and would continue to poke fun at Kapkan, but it looked to him that it was best to let his salty comrade cool off before he tried asking what was wrong. And anyway, he'd promised a particular recruit some pointers on breathing control while sniping.
You could feel the annoyance Kapkan was radiating from across the canteen, which is why Montagne appeared at the Russian's side just as he began to sit down at a table, recruits still in tow as they chattered among themselves. The Frenchman was very easy-going, but didn't tolerate disrespect in the slightest. No matter how grumpy Kapkan was, the Russian was smarter than insulting the guy whose job it was to take a bullet for him without question. Doc watched from across the room, clearly noting the interaction. Gilles had just been standing beside him a moment ago, and Kapkan probably would not be surprised if the two older operators had spotted his cry for help and decided to assist.
Montagne turned towards the recruits and gave them an unreadable stare. For Gilles, if he was not smiling, it spoke universes. It was all the warning they needed to beat it before the Frenchman got serious. They all faltered, the ones that had sat down near or beside Kapkan fled in little groups to go bother someone else on planting traps or whatever ridiculous questions they needed answered.
Gilles was as smart as he was towering. He'd been here once; struggling with all of the attention and expectations from young soldiers. Back then, he'd had nobody to tell him what Kapkan needed to hear.
"Hey." Gilles greeted after a moment, taking a seat beside Kapkan without hesitance. He was almost too casual, but the little glimmer of concern in his eyes gave away his intentions.
Kapkan was silent as he fixed the tabletop with a murderous expression, like if he stared at it long enough, his eyes would start shooting beams of plasma and melt away his shitty situation. Gilles was quiet beside him, and simply waited. As a proud member of Team Rainbow, he'd gotten to know every single one of the operators he worked with. Even someone as foreboding as Kapkan had weak points, and Gilles had learned all he needed was a moment of silence to cool down before you could start feeding him information.
After a moment, Kapkan's shoulders slumped, and a sigh escaped him. Exactly what Gilles had been waiting for. The Russian cautiously looked over to the Frenchman, exhaustion suddenly present in his eyes. He straightened a little, a frown tugging the corner of his lips. "Hey." He replied, voice drained.
"You know, I was a lot like you once."
Kapkan rolled his eyes. Maybe to others it was a sign of rudeness, but Montagne recognized it as a cue of how much more relaxed Maxim was if he was willing to do something other than glare. "You planted traps at every doorway?" He joked half-heartedly, a small smile finally appearing.
Relief showed in his eyes, and the sheild defender smiled in returned as he gestured with a hand, "I mean the recruits. You know there is no one here who would think you a bad person for asking for some respect and space."
Maxim eyed him, visibly chewing the inside of his cheek, unconvinced but considering. He liked to portray heartlessness, or atleast try to, but deep down, Gilles knew he wasn't telling the recruits off because he didn't want to discourage them. Maybe Kapkan had had some sort of experience that shaped this way of thinking. Maxim did not want to be labled as "the mean guy who won't train anybody" by the people he worked with.
Gilles sighed, looking out over the canteen. Operators swarmed around together, having conversations, laughing, interacting. Although out of sight, you could hear Thatcher yelling at someone from down one of the corridors.
It brought another smile to the Frenchman's face, and when he looked back over at Kapkan, he saw the infectious energy of the friendly operator had transferred to the younger defender in the form of a rare smile. Giving him a good pat on the shoulder, Montagne stood, "They'll come back. Don't get gray over it." The elder operator winked, and after giving Kapkan a final comforting shake of the shoulder, he wandered back over to Gustave.
"I think he will be alright," Gilles said as he approached Doc, who tentatively sipped some sort of tea.
Gustave looked up at his fellow Frenchman, amusement in his eyes as he chuckled, "I do not doubt it."
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