"This!" He waves a hand at the papers in front of him, at the dim too-quiet common room, the World Eater across the lake. "Fuckin' exhausting, being out here. Soldat's better at this shit than I am." (You're a sniper, too, Sarge, you ought to know patience.) "Shut up, Soldat, I can hate paperwork if I want to."

Sarge has clearly given up on even pretending he's not Soldat, or even talking to them. There's so few of them left, and most of them know already, and it's just not worth it.