Tan Khakis, cargo style, and a white wife-beater. Both covered with smudges of dirt and dust, along with his face and his hands. Without any sort of doing to his hair, it created sort of a poof that hung down over his eyes. Making him look much younger then what he really was, though, that was never too tough. For the moment, he was on a break. Leaning against a white F-150 eating a sandwich, those moderately light blue eyes looking over the dig.
They'd essentially taken a large square of land from where it once was. Scraping off the top layers to reveal what they were currently calling a roman outpost. It seemed to have been sacked, most likely by barbarian a horde, and what they didn't take they burned to the ground. Seemed someone tried to live there for a while too. How wonderfully interesting the world of Archaeology is.
Big bite, in oposition of a yawn.
Thats when an older man came walking over, just as dusty. With an upward nod of his head he began to speak, all the while Aiden chewed his cud and watched. "What is it you do around here, Aiden? I see you're covered in dirt, but I never see you working."
Aiden gave a somewhat exagerated eyeroll as he downed his bite, then lifted his hand, sandwich and all, to point towards the dig, "Who do you think dug out the entire back quadrant? I single handedly filled a museum over there."
Grins found both their faces. Interestingly enough thats when the older man gave the bad news, presenting a brush to Aiden, "They found a scull up front. You're currently the only one I'd trust to dig that up. Be mindful, it might be a gravesite."
Another light eyeroll as Aiden lifted his free hand to snatch the brush, and off he went, ripping into his sandwich once more as he entered the site. Carefully navigating around smaller digs within the site he made his way to the supposed grave, where a few others were standing. He only joined them, to look down into a small, shallow hole with the front part of a skull protruding from the dirt.
The all looked to him quizzically, and without looking up from the skull, he spoke. "Cool. A corpse." Smile.
He stood there a moment before his fake smile slipped away and he shoved the last bit of sandwich in his mouth. Usually he didn't do so, but as he waved them away he spoke, "Now geff teh fuck outa here."
And they'd meander away.
Lowering, he started to brush at the edges of said scull, only to look around the small area for other tools. He only groaned, swallowing that last bite as he lowered his head. Contempt? Well, somewhat. The job was fine. Gave him time to think. It was the people. It usually was, that made a job hurt your brain...
