But just as Musto lifted his cigarette to his lips, it was snatched away by a strong hand. A man with short, unruly brown hair, light blue eyes, and a cocky, self-assured grin on his face, stood there, waggling a finger in an almost scolding manner. He was dressed entirely in black, with no markings of rank or medals of honor or merit, not even a name plate.
"Now, now," he said, shaking his head, "haven't you heard, soldier? Cigarettes can kill you."
"Drew!" a feminine voice shouted from further down the hall. Charging toward the armory after him was a young woman, shoulder-length blonde hair tied back from her face, blue eyes glittering in displeasure. She too was dressed entirely in black with no medals, commendations, rank, or name plate.
"Back off, Drew," she growled as she drew near. With a grin and a shrug, Drew turned and sauntered a few paces away, leaning against the opposite wall. Facing Musto, the woman's expression turned apologetic and she read his name plate with a quick glance. "Sorry about my brother, Musto. Somehow, his training overlooked how to give the proper respect to future team members."
She extended her hand. "I'm Sullivan. Erica Sullivan. Cocky McSure-of-Himself over there," she nodded at the other man dressed in black, "is my brother, Andrew."