| A Different Kind of Marine |
| Summary: | Bannik meeks Lunair and discovers she's not your typical Marine or typical officer. |
| Date: | 19 Mar 2041 AE |
| Related Logs: | None. |
| Players: |
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| Recreation Room — Deck 9 — Battlestar Cerberus |
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| Post Holocaust Day: #21 |
| This huge room spans quite a lot of floor space, the support beams crisscrossing at even points throughout the room. The two sides are divided fairly between the Enlisted and Officers with an unseen line more or less running down the center of the room. A couple pool and card tables sit in no-man's land with a series of regular mess tables at the rear of the room, nearest a counter full of minor refreshments like coffee and bags of chips. Magazines and reading material are spread out over the couched seating areas and a few televisions are set-up with a couple of video game systems made available. |
| Condition Level: 3 - All Clear |
"I said what's the matter baby. What's been wrong with you? I said what's the matter baby? What's been wrong with you? I give you all my lovin' and you look me in the eye and say we're through." The light, soft, melodious sound is coming from the crewman off in the corner, Tyr Bannik. He has an electronic keyboard in front of him and his fingers run up and down the keys, a jazz melody coming from the keyboard. And he's not that bad, either. He's in his off-duty uniform, apparently taking a break with his music.
Click click. Lunair is sitting patiently at a loom in the corner, weaving away. Or at least she was. Lunair returns, now with a cup of hot sweet tea. She sets it down and pauses, hearing the singing. Melodious? And a keyboard? She turns her head and smiles, hearing the source of the music before she settles back in to resume weaving. "Oh! Am I interrupting?" She looks around. Some musicians may not like an audience after all.
Bannik shakes his head back and forth, giving Lunair a big smile, as if to say 'not at all.' But he moves to the next line. "I gave you every nickel. I gave you every dime. Now you sit here tellin' me I'm wastin' all my time." But rather than launch into the refrain again, he trails off into an instrumental bridge. "Not at all, sir," says the Crewman, catching sight of Lunair's dog tags. "Rec room's not big enough for that."
A big smile back. She seems warm and friendly, despite the stately demeanor. She listens, tilting her head. Lunair pauses. "Oh. I'm off-duty, but-" She just shrugs. "If you're sure. I understand some people don't like audiences," She notes. She sits back down at her loom, moving it to face him then. Whatever she's working on is a lovely dark midnight blue silken thing. It's nearly done it seems, from the length. "Have we met?" She asks quietly.
Bannik is able to play without looking at the keys, turning down his volume a bit so they can converse even as he finishes off the song. "I don't think so, sir," confesses the crewman. "But it's a big Battlestar. I'm Tyr Bannik. I'm a crewman down on the Deck." That would explain all of the 'sir'ing.
Lunair smiles at that. "I see. That's alright, I kind of kept to officer territory anyway. Lots of paperwork," A little shrug. "Oh! The Deck crew. I met someone from there I think. Very nice lady," She beams. So far, she seems …friendly and peaceful, odd for a Marine officer. "I am Raine Lunair, Lieutenant JG of the Marines. Rifley stuff." She nods and keeps her loom a clackin'. "Pleased to meet you," She adds. "Have you been onboard very long?"
"Uh. Oh. Well. We've got a few nice ladies down on the Deck. Glad you met one of them." Tyr smiles, though the deck is a pretty big place; lots of women, many of them nice. He watches her work her loom, bringing his song to a close and not starting up another quite yet. "What is it you're working on over there?" He nods to her loom.
"Hmm. I hadn't decided yet. I wanted some soft cloth for sewing," Lunair explains. She keeps a faint little smile. "I think it was Miss Zosime. Zo! That's right, I met her and Lieutenant Grumpy," Beam. Her fingers are fairly deft. She may have done this nearly full time once before. "But I just can't decide what to make," Sigh. She looks over. "You sang really well by the way." Nod. Friendly git.
"Oh! Thanks. I just — I'm an amateur, I guess. Just goes along with the piano." Tyr gestures to the keyboard in front of him. But he seems all out of sorts. His inner compass is ruined. She's a Marine. And an officer. But she doesn't talk like a Marine. Or an officer. "You sew, too?" he asks, warily.
A shrug. "I am an amateur too, but I enjoy this just the same," She smiles. Lunair looks at the keyboard. And poor Tyr. Lunair is an odd bean, likely more suited to the days when officers were nobility and all that. She would probably dig the jazzy uniforms. "Yeah. I sew, embroider- I used to dance a bit, but I am not so good at that." She chuckles softly. She seems puzzled at his wariness. Her eyebrows lift. "Are you alright?"
"Oh. Yeah. I'm. I'm fine. Just. Uh." Bannik pauses. "You're not a lot like a lot of the officers I've seen, I guess, sir. I don't mean to offend or anything." And here comes the boom. He just knows it. Wait for it. Wait for it.
Blink. A laugh. Lunair shakes her head, "Oh. OH! I get that all the time, don't worry." She waves a hand. "I guess I am kind of an oddball for the job," She admits softly. "I just - I try to be polite and I guess I don't really get angry," Lunair tilts her head. "I mean - I hope people don't think I'm weak or anything." A pause. "Or incompetent." Sadface.
"Oh! No. I'm sure you shoot things just fine. I mean, way better than I can." Bannik does his best to be reassuring, though it's somewhat odd for him to be reassuring the Marine officer about Marine things. "And besides. A nice Marine is pretty rare. I'll just savor it while I've got it." He flashes her a smile.
Blink. Giggle. Lunair shakes her head, "No. There's just some who feel kindness is a weakness in an officer is all. I mean - I am mean when I have to be, otherwise I let people down," She explains. A shrug at that. "It's alright. No need to savor it, I don't think I'll be going anywhere." Unless a Cylon takes a grudge out on her. "I don't bite unless I have to really."
"So. Uh. What are you in the Marines? A platoon leader or something?" It doesn't sound like Tyr knows all that much about Marine organization, just pulling one of the terms he's heard. "And just as long as you're mean to the Toasters, that's fine with me."
"Kind of," Lunair explains. "And I try to be," She offers a smile. Her loom is still busily worked on. "Though I suspect I may be more involved directly now," She considers. "I imagine the Deck is a frightfully busy place these days?" Her purple eyes peer over at him. "There's lots of things to do there it seems."
"Oh. Yeah. Tons." Tyr sighs and hits an errant chord on his keyboard, just futzing around with it to keep his hands busy. "I mean, even when we don't have bent birds, there's the routine maintenance and inspections and all of that. Plus special projects, too. So we're plenty busy. We are all, I guess. All of us."
Poor deck crew. A sympathetic nod. "I figured as much, from what I saw of Miss Zo," She admits. "It looks really complex," There's a consideration for a moment. Lunair hms, and moves a few threads. "I'm afraid I'm kind of boring. Most of what I do is papers and coffee making for now. But with the recent losses, even I'm getting shuffled in to things it seems."
"Uh. Well. Every Marine a Rifleman and all of that, right? And you're an officer, sir, if you don't mind me saying so. I can't believe you just make coffee. That's what you have enlisted like me for." Bannik pauses. "Well. Not just like me. But similar in rank to me, I guess is what I'm saying."
"Right. And eh, you underestimate the ability of a gaggle of marines to decimate a coffee pot," She winks. Lunair nods. "Yes, every marine a Rifleman. I could wade into the thick of combat if they need." She notes. She takes a deep breath. "And oh? Well, no. I only ask if I can catch them." A wink. She's joking. "I like to make my own coffee, I'm kinda picky," She admits. "Lots of sugar. Sometimes I try to put chocolate syrup in."
"I drink tea." Bannik confesses this easily. He's from Aerilon. It's in the blood. And all of that. But he does allow a small smile to touch at his lips. "You really are something, sir." And that sort of seems to be a compliment.
"I like tea too," Lunair smiles. Cancerons, whacky! She tilts her head. "Really? Thank you! That's very sweet of you to say." Beam. She chuckles softly. She seems amused or at least, touched. "You're very kind to say that." Her hands still work away. "Maybe someday I'll have to go to the Deck and say hi. Provided I don't get underfoot or launched out of a missile tube." A wry joke that.
Bannik's reply is helpful and perhaps a little too on the nose at the same time. "We don't have missile tubes," he offers. "We have launch tubes. But you're a little too small to be mistaken for a Viper. I doubt you've even fit on the catapult, actually." Oh, Tyr. "But speaking of the Deck, I suppose I ought to be getting back." He stands and begins to pack his keyboard.
A faint laugh at that. "Well, I'm glad to know on both accounts." Lunair grins. She's safe! No officer-munitions! She nods. "Thank you for talking with me. It was a pleasure. Be safe out there," She waves. "I suspect I should get back to work once I finish this too," She sighs faintly at that. Work work.