Laziness and boredom seemed to be the common traits of the tattooed Cajun boy. Some even teased that Drifter may as well have been the human incarnate of Garfield the cat. Granted most of that lethargic nature was due in large part to the brutally addictive chemical cocktail that the regiment forced into his veins on a weekly basis...but the drinking and weed didn't help matters either. Where most of other agents actually worked hard to train, Jeremiah was far more content to simply wile away his time lounging about. And even now he had been doing just that; resting high up on the rafters of the hologym, drinking heavily while watching his teammate run herself through the paces.
Oh a bit of training for himself wouldn't have hurt, but when he rarely saw a point with any of it since he was a living weapon in fog form. However while the exercise portion held no appeal Miah found the sight of Penny pushing herself on to be amusing all the same. It was when she stopped though, and started to curse like a sailor, that his laughter echoed out across the vast chamber. "Well ain't dat a surprise. Never thought I'd hear a proper lady like yourself go and using those kinda words, darling." From high up above he flashed her a grin; raising his bottle in a little salute before downing the rest of the contents. Without warning Drifter just leaned back over the rafter and proceeded to fall, his body hurtling towards the ground at an alarming pace.
Yet instead of a corpse splattering there on the floor a billow of fog just appeared. A moment later that dark mist swirled about, taking on the form of a man until Miah was just sitting there beside her...looking unphased by the fall. Before saying a word he paused to fish out a fresh joint; lighting up, inhaling and exhaling deeply before that Southern accent of his was heard once again. "So what's got ya so down, suga?"