It was noon and Preston overslept. He was normally a morning person, up at dawn, working out, getting exercise in, but lately, he was in a.... general "fuck it" kind of mood. Why work out so much? Why train so hard when you're a prisoner? Expendable? He dedicated his life to serving the government and they traded him away like a baseball card... useless and cumbersome just because he was a little different. Preston was a good soldier... a great soldier, who was a great leader and never questioned what was asked of him. But all the time in these confines underground just meant time for his brain to wander. Time for questions and doubts and boy, did he have a lot of them.
He needed a haircut. The shaggy mass of red hair was getting too much to control, even if he usually kept it slicked back and tied back in a bun to keep it out of his face. As he turned into the mess hall, he spotted Death sitting at a table by himself. Preston gave him a headnod and moved into the ling, grabbing a few snacks and a coffee for himself, in a white mug. He made his way over toward the other man and gestured with his head. "Mind if I join yae?"