Soldat's nose wrinkles up at that, though between her towel and their facing the stove, she can't really see it. The grumble turns into something a little more sheepish. "I just like people." And that somehow makes them a social butterfly. (Well, you did count the number of people. And it was a lot. Shut up, Sarge. Oh, what, you gonna call me that now? ... I dunno, should I?) The Sergeant doesn't answer, subsiding thoughtfully somewhere in the back of their mind.

Trying again. "Why would you want to be. On the bench? On the bench. If you could be out playing. With more people." They put the first sandwich on, frowning thoughtfully, and asks a less-dumb question this time. "Is that really what you want? Or is it just safer."