Susan

The interpreter, Susan, well, she reached the same level of nothing that we're all at by now. She pulled me aside in the office and dropped her little bombshell:

"I...I don't know what I'm doing here."

"You mean like translating?"

"No, I have no idea why I'm at work right now. There isn't any work to do here. Why are these people so stupid as to keep me here?" I agreed with her, there wasn't work to do there, and keeping her around was pointless. Like asking someone to wait in a line that goes nowhere.

"Hah! I agree. Why don't you just go home? I'll say I let you go."

"Are you sure? I don't want to get you in trouble..."

"No, it's fine. I like trouble anyway."

And suddenly, thrown casually out into the conversation, Susan said what I had been thinking the entire time I was in Speicher:

"Thank you. I wish I were going with you and Chanatee, and to Al Asad, not Balad. I cannot stand Quiet, or L-Word, they are horrible leaders."

"Haha! You're telling me. Go home, I'll talk to you later."