They stare down at the bowl of eggs for a long moment before she takes it away, at the bit of egg still stuck to the metal finger that slipped and punched too hard and broke the shell before they were ready. It's not maintenance. The arm is responding properly. It's their fucking brain.

This is starting to affect their operational efficiency. More than just the persistent, low-level headache.

Soldat rinses off the bit of egg, avoiding looking in Misty's direction, and answer her question with an awkward shrug. (Might help. Since when were you an advocate for talking about feelings, Sarge. I'm not the one who's gotta talk, am I? What if she... What? You think she's gonna stop liking you? She should.) Honestly, they're not sure if the better outcome of talking would be Misty actually meting out deserved punishment, or not. Would make things easier, at any rate.