Editing 97th Conglomerate's Tyrannic War (section)

==== 2234 Hours – Local Time ====

The bunk rooms were.. well, Samson was relieved at their size. They were much larger than the standard Platoon Barracks (being that those were really just bedrolls laid out at your post), and there were actual beds; mattresses and everything. Samson’s and Natasha’s bunks were right next to each other, so they simply chatted whilst they undressed.

“Hey, about yesterday…” Natasha managed uncomfortably. “… And this morning…”

“Natasha, it’s fine.” Samson didn’t want her to feel bad. He tried to keep her from feeling like she had been a bitch (which she had been, but that’s beside the point). 

“No, it isn’t.” She denied, a pang of guilt in her tone. “I should’ve told you, but I didn’t, and you probably felt ignored.”

“Well, better late than never.” Samson remarked under his breath.

Later that night, Samson laid with his eyes closed but his mind still going. He couldn’t sleep, the events of the day still running through his head. He had helped repair ''Target Practice'', he had assisted in the cremation of the squad’s casualties from first contact, he had learned of an Exterminatus order if the Tyranids were not removed from this world. 

Through all of this he just kept thinking about Natasha that morning. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice when she had slid into his bunk with him. She got under the blanket right in front of him and slid her rear back into him. He put his arm over her and she drew a sharp breath, startled to realize he was awake. He pulled her closer to him and drew the blanket back over them. Now they both felt they could put their minds at rest and sleep for a few hours.