Re: 2200
Sam shook his head, being honest about his answer. "I don't know. I always wanted to get the hell out of my town," he laughed distantly, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly, wondering if that meant he really was the low-class bastard he feared he was. "Well, I mean, o'course," he smirked and looked down at his shoes. "I guess you've got to really want to get away from your hometown if you stick with it long enough to become a ranking officer," he laughed out loud. . .perhaps showing just how out of place he felt. It was what he wanted, sure, but that didn't make him feel as if he belonged just yet. "I feel at home in the chaos," he said, taking another drink from his bottle, draining it and just as quickly getting a new one.
Maybe Sam could have had some familiar influence, but in that department he was lacking. His mother was working, his father had always been busy trying to find new jobs inland, and his younger sister was practicallya stranger to him. He'd been very alienated growing up, very left to his own devices, and already feeling different from everyone else throughout his whole life only made that disconnect worse. His parents simply let him follow whatever he wanted to - not that they cared, at any rate.
"You do the jackets too?" Sam asked, trying so hard not to grin widely. He knew who would be painting his jacket. . .boy did he.