0100h. 8th JUN. 1944 - London. DDay +2
Who: Magda, Foley
When: Night
Where: Rooftops of London
What: The reason Magda's going to go home and burn her bra

A little while ago, Foley showed up with Red carrying a big ass coffee machine full of hot tomato soup. Everyone is relatively on edge, sitting on the rooftops waiting for the werewolf to show it's face. The moon is waning at this point, but still visibly full.

Foley perched on the edge of the building near Magda and waited until Rapp and Jaxon found themselves further down the watch line before he finally spoke. He opened up the pocket on his shirt and stuck his fingers in to find his cigarettes depleted. He patted himself down despite knowing he was dry. "I need you to do something for me." He said to Magda, not looking at her directly.

Magda produced a rumpled cigarette pack out of the pocket of her fatigues. She held the packet out to Foley, without glancing his way. Her eyes remained locked on the shadows of the buildings across from them. None of them had yet resolved themselves into a monster, but the darkness had an unsettling tendency to move of its own volition when she stared at it too long. She was never quite sure if there was something lurking there, or if she was imagining it. Or perhaps the mutant hangover from the sixth dimension (as Magda had taken to calling it) was wrecking a new form of havoc on her mind.

Foley stopped patting himself down and reached for the pack. He took it from Magda gingerly, and tapped it on his knee until a cigarette finally produced itself. "I need you to take Sienko and bring the soup down to the boys, then skedaddle." He put the cigarette between his lips and lit it with a match, struck on the cement beside him. He shook out the match and inhaled deeply, still not looking at Magda.

Magda said nothing, her eyes still surveying the darkness.

"Now." Foley added, clearing his throat. The decision was because she was a woman. He'd never say it out loud, but he couldn't bring himself to lead a bunch of skirts into a firefight like this. Maybe some other fight when he didn't have fresh gunshot wounds and a piece of exploding 88 in his thigh. He hoped Magda wouldn't catch on, but he knew better. At the very least, Sienko wouldn't say anything if they talked about it.

She held out her hand for her cigarette packet. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

Foley handed the cigarettes back, and for the first time, sounded unsure of himself. "Granted," he said, his voice wavering slightly, apparently uneasy with the decision.

"Why was I chosen for this assignment?" She doled out a cigarette for herself, and lit it.

Foley considered his cigarette for a moment, as if it might have an answer that sounded more like an answer than a brush off. It didn't.

"Classified." he said, and put the butt between his lips, the cherry burning brightly like a beacon in the darkness. It cast an orange glow over his face momentarily.

"Fine." She shrugged the carbine of her shoulder and set it on the building's ledge. "You'll need these. Only silver bullets we have. The other guns might as well fire hugs and cuddles for all the good it'll do you." Next to the rifle, Magda placed two additional magazines. "I'll go get you your soup." She walked off.

"It's already here. I need you to bring it down to them." he called after her, pointing to the factory and then waved it off. The point was to get her and the other skirt the hell out of the line of fire. He hoped this would do it.

He grumbled under is breath, "You can lead a bunch of guys up a hill against a German emplacement, but you can't tell a bunch of dames to get lost." he snatched up the carbine, slinging his SMG over his shoulder. "Piece of work, Alton."

Magda lifted the thermos with a soft grunt, and made her way to the staircase. It wasn't the most direct path, but she made sure she passed near enough to Foley when she muttered, "Could have just told us to get lost if he didn't want a pair of skirts running around."

Foley rolled his eyes and groaned before shouting, "Take the other skirt with you." No sense hiding it now.

"Will do."