PHD #207: Chili Hair
Chili Hair
Summary: Rumors and chili fly in the Galley. Rian responds violently but is stopped by Lysander and Lunair.
Date: 21 Sepember 2041 AE
Related Logs: I Aint Him
Lysander Samuel Angelica Rian Lunair Marko 
Behind the two hangar decks, the Cerberus' Galley is the largest room on the ship. Nearly half the size of a football field, the eating area is made up of long lines of stainless steel tables that can be folded up and placed against the wall for larger events. Individual seats are the standard military issue, boring and grey with lowest-bidder padding. The line for food stretches across one of the shorter sides of the room while the kitchen behind works nearly twenty-four hours a day to produce either full meals or overnight snacks and coffee for the late shifts.
Post-Holocaust Day: 207

There's quite a few people present in the galley at this point. Some people just having gotten off their shifts, while others are making sure to get a good meal before they get to go on their shifts. One of those in the first category would be Samuel, who's just gotten his food from the line, and is looking around the room for a place to seat himself now.

Angelica makes her way into the galley, "Alright, we'll cut together the scenes from the riot, with a little voice over. Hmm, and napkins, must remember napkins" Moving towards the food line, she grabs a tray. "You know, I think green is quite nice…"

"And now, weeks into my stay on Cerberus, I am now eating… well, I'm not sure what this is," but it's Post-Holocaust and so Sergeant Lysander assumes it's perfectly natural to be talking to one's self. He's just accomplished finding himself a meal to eat and currently sits by himself, quite possibly due to the aforementioned comments to himself. He's off-duty and has a small pad of paper and pen next to him, idle notes scrawled upon the open page. Briefly, he looks from his food and glances around at everyone else near and far within the galley.

Samuel pauses for a few moments, before he starts moving over in the direction of one of those unoccupied seats near Lysander. Glancing around as he moves over there, he notices Angelica's entrance into the room, studying her for a few seconds before he looks back to the Sergeant. "Excuse me, is there room for one more here?" he asks.

Angelica fills up her tray, "Ah, food…fuel that makes the engine go." She stops, and adds a bit more food. "Ok, thats good to start." She then picks up a salt and pepper shaker and gives the whole tray and contents a good dusting. "Right,,,now lets see…" as she turns towards the tables.

"Oh," Lysander's attention switches from the general cacophony of the background to Samuel and he offers a nod of his head in return. "Have at, sure, I wasn't saving them for anyone or anything." There's a brief but welcoming grin upon a look at the empty seats around him and he fights the urge to poke and prod at his current meal. The man finds a more comfortable spot within his chair while looking up again, spotting Angelica in the process. There's a brief knitting of brows as he lifts a hand, "Know who that is?"

Samuel seats himself, "Thanks," he replies, before he shrugs at Lysander's question. "Some civilian, I think. Not really sure, though." He starts eating, with a bit of a shrug, "At least she was there when there was an incident down where the civilians are staying…"

Angelica says, "Ah, there are some seats." as she makes her way over, and just sits down at your table. Looking over her tray of food, "Ah, looks tastey…chili today, hot tamala" As she picks up a fork and starts to eat, finnaly realizing other people, "Oh, howdy gents…"

"The, uh, yeah, the murder," Lysander opens his mouth to speak up further but he ends up wincing somewhat and offering a small curse under his breath while his lifted hand drops down. It's then used to comb through his dark hair in the middle of watching the woman take a seat at the table and begin eating. He looks to Samuel for a moment. "Know what's going to happen to the Sags' about what happened?" He turns with the start of a smile and introduces himself, rather than continue being rude-like, "Sergeant Lysander, Garret, and I'm not sure that's really chili. I mean- well."

"Hello," Samuel offers in Angelica's direction, before he looks back to Lysander, offering a bit of a shrug. "Don't know. Haven't heard anything yet," he offers, before turning back towards the woman at the introduction from the sergeant. "Samuel H. Blaine, Corporal," he introduces himself. Not saying anything about the chili or non-chili at the moment.

Angelica hmms as she eats, "Garry and Sammy? I think I saw your show in a night club once…" She smiles a bit, eating some more…."Oh, I'm sure someone will claim something and someone will have something done, but someone will be unhappy with that something and complain to someone…in the end, prolly nothing will happen to those people that did that thing…" She continues to eat.

"You'd think, given the times, killing each other'd be a bad idea, but," Lysander continues to trail on about it before gesturing towards Angelica. "It sure as frak better not end up like that - nothing happenin' - that's just wrong." He could surely continue ranting on about things regarding Sagitarron in general but in hindsight he's noted being called Garry and so ends up quietly laughing. These two sitting with him amongst the others of the galley has so far been a good idea. He sits back some with a once over of his food and smiles again. Garret asks in turn, "Garry and Sammy, huh?"

Samuel shrugs a little, "I'm sure something will be done, although I'm not sure what they'll be doing…" He shakes his head a little, pausing a bit at Angelica's comment, "In a nightclub? Didn't know I've ever been drunk enough to get into one of those places, really." Spoken a bit lightly as he glances around the room.

Angelica nods, "Well, it did get tricky down there..I will admit. Some of the footage is great though, I've watched a couple times.." she continues to eat, "Yeah, Garry and Sammy..they were a couple of male strippers if I remember right…use to dance on stage." Back to the food, "Could have gotten a lot worse…the violence meter shot way up when people started pulling out guns.."

Lysander opens his mouth into an appreciative grin as he folds his arms over his torso, tightening the hold some after a bit. He can eat his food pleasantly chilled, or otherwise uncomfortably cold as frak, if need be. He's a marine. "Now, I could probably be drunk enough to be remembered in a nightclub. I'd love that right about now," he smirks enough for dimples to appear. Good-naturedly, he continues. "But a stripper, well, sorry to not be as exotic as that," the Sergeant gives a curt nod, "Guns, I can do. No one else was hurt, right?"

Samuel looks about to make a comment at the mention of the guns, but decides to busy himself with attacking some of his food instead, expression a bit distant for the moment.

Angelica nods as she eats…"well, don't MP's carry nightsticks anymore?…In my oppionion nothing riles a crowd up more then someone pointing a gun at someone….well a bad pyramid call maybe, but in general…you know. I just wonder if they've found out which civilians rushed the tables and took everything. Prolly started them on a nice little black market…"

Heavy booted footsteps brings the tall dark haired marine into the galley. Ordered to get some chow by the doc then hit the rack. Ordered? A marine ordered around by a blue eyed cripple? Better not let that get out in the rumour mill. The line at the serving table is short, good, Rian's not one for waiting around in lines. Dark eyes glance about the room and when a few enlisted stop to look at her, she quickly glances away, turning her cheek so dark bangs hide her features. A few strides and she's at the counter, taking a tray and moving through the motions. At the end she turns to survey the dining room, looking for the quietest place to eat. Though with the amount of crew on board quiet is a luxury she doesn't have. Her gaze catches the group with the MP, she recognizes the man but her dull expression doesn't change. Walking up to them she moves to take a seat, pushing the chair out with her foot and placing her tray down with both hands, "Evenin'" She speaks to all in a soft voice. "Sarge, good to see you made it off that rock in one peice," she speaks in a little more relaxed tone to Lysander.

"Evening…" comes the quiet reply from Samuel as he hears Rian's greeting, looking up very briefly from his food, before looking down to it again, shaking his head a little to himself as he keeps on eating. Poor meal's soon killed in this battle, it would seem.

"I wouldn't know, did my tours on the dirt, in the dirt," but the good Sergeant doesn't speak up and interject in the middle of Angelica. He nods once and then he slowly does it once more in generalized agreement to her. He wrinkles the bridge of his nose for a lingering moment and owlishly blinks upon that but returns to matters at hand with a small huff. "We're the best of the best, or just the lucky bastards," he says this sarcastically with a dried up tone of voice but upon a breath he warms up to the notion, "But, either way we'll keep things under control." Mister Lysander sits forward now and reaches for his utensils, so that he can join the others in actual eating of food. With a spoon set between his lips, his eyes glance up to strangely familiar voice. He bites the spoon accidentally and then grins, and swallows, so he can talk: "Bless their frakkin' hearts, but I can't say the same for my unit… You, though, Rian, are a sight for sore eyes."

Instead of intruding on the conversation Rian keeps her head down and picks up her spoon, tucking into her dinner. As she recieves such a warm welcome surprise grows over her face, obvious as her jaw drops slightly and dark eyes grow wide, "Uh.. thank you sir. You too." A curt nod as if to add to the statement.

Several nuggets from the table across the way are whispering white loud to one another, looking up from their dinners and staring at the back of Rian's head. "… I hear she went nuts and accused someone of being a skin job…" "Nah nah… she forced herself unto a crewman out of desperate want." "She can force herself on to me anytime." Finished with a round of loud chuckles.

Angelica continues to eat, as she listens.."Skin job…hmm, tummy tucks, boob jobs…now skin jobs…things some people won't do for their looks…"

Samuel shakes his head as he listens. "People do lots of worse things," he offers, after a few moments of pause. "All things considered, we get us into the weirdest of deep holes, right?"

Angelica finishes off her tray, "Ah, that was a goooood snack. Now, I should think about getting some dinner…" She smiles a bit.

Rian drops her spoon and attempts to ignore the chattering bunch over her shoulder. It clatters to the side of her bowl in the tray. Hands move to both sides of the tray and holds the metal in her hands, knuckles growing white trying to keep her cool. "Dinner?" She questions, looking up to the woman.

Samuel finishes his food, and looks over at Angelica again, shaking his head a bit, "You mean you can actually eat more than just that? You're a brave woman," he remarks, before he sighs a bit, "I should get going. Need to take care of a few things before getting some rest…" Starting to get to his feet.

Angelica says, "Well, you can't pass up food when it's this good. I mean, if you don't eat it now..someone else will get it."

Rian just glances to the two but keeps quiet.

Lysander looks to his nearly-chewed utensil briefly and lowers it into the bowl of chili whilst his attention flickers over the others at the table. After hearing the talk in the background, he's grown vaguely and quite uncharacteristically quiet. Angelica has left for, presumably, more food. His hand comes up to offhandedly salute Samuel like the good little boy scout that the Sergeant is, aside from it being done satirically and unnecessarily, before he picks up his spoon once again. "So," Garret lifts up his spoon and aims it past Rian's shoulder. "Are those rumors true - or can I make the paperwork worth it by havin' a nice, friendlychat with them?"

Rian still grips her meal tray, knuckles turning from white to red. She speaks through clenched teeth and doesn't even notice when the others disappear from the table. "No sir, not worth the time or effort. Just let them talk, nothin in rumours." It looks like with some effort she peels her hand from the tray and reaches for the cup of water, taking a long sip. "I just want to eat and high tail it out of here without anything physical." A brief glance goes to the Lysander then, and a half smile curls up on her cheek, "Thanks however."

"You," Lysander breaks away from commenting further and noting just how strongly she is grabbing hold of that food tray before her. A slight agape, he closes his mouth and presses his lips together into a thinned smile. He nods stiffly. "Though, it's not every day I go about defendin' someone's honor. I could do it verbal-only, maybe, but I wouldn't trust that," and he offers a more good-natured smile upon that, and an eased nod of his head. He takes a moment out of the conversation for a couple more bites. He replies in turn, "Welcome."

As the Marines talk quietly amongst themselves the mouthy enlisted grow bolder. One rises from his seat and calls over, "hey, hey marine! You remember me? I'm sure you fraked me back on Sag too!" There's a roar of laughter as he starts to hump the air.

The hollow of Rian's cheeks grow deeper as she clenches her jaw and with added thrust she digs into the pile of mush that is her dinner. "So how'd you make it off that rock? Dec and I were pinned down for days before this crew came and picked up our asses. Low on food, radiation meds, ammo…"

Then splat a red mess of chunky protein hits Rian to the back, left side of her head. Sinking into her hair and slowly streaming downward towards her bare neck. "Frak," she grunts out but in a faction of a second she turns to face the same nugget that was leading the bunch. With the turn of her body she rises from the seat and with the inertia brings the food tray with her right hand. A strong arm tosses it across to the table right for the loudmouth, bowl, spoon, cup flying. Before it has a chance to hit anyone she is across the aisle, grabbing the shoulder of one nuggets flight suit pulling him one way and giving him a right hook across his face with enough force to knock out a large bear.

Within seconds the dining hall is a roar with shouting and movement, the gang of young pilots bursting from their seats headed straight for the tall marine. Rian seems to be holding her own as each comes for her she either ducts the blow, counters or just knocks em down like she did their buddy.

"Frakkin'ell," is murmured under Lysander's breath as he looks past Rian and in the direction of the dry-humping. Still, she's said that it isn't worth it and so the marine simply inhales deeply and fixes his gaze back on Rian with a small, subtle nod of his head. The breadth of his shoulders is rolled out into a low shrug as he begins to respond. "We were in the middle of nowhere, about two klicks northeast of the closest village, when the nukes dropped," and whatever else that the man was going to say is abruptly cut off via the entrance of thrown chili. His mouth is left hanging open, noticeably, and then he sets his tongue into the inside of his cheek with a wry look.
It's not too difficult to anticipate what is about to happen. It's happened plenty before within his old unit and rumors are cancerous. The tray is thrown and Rian is up to deck someone right in the face. For the most part, Sergeant Lysander ignores the most of the background and drops his spoon in the process of standing up. His chair hits the deck hard and he's clearing over the table. "You said it yourself," yells Garret while reaching for Rian's hands to pull her back with his right hand and aim a threatening forefinger and middle of his left towards the incoming pilots: "Back the frak off - it ain't worth it!"

Mmm, chow. Alas, Lunair is a latecomer. And she enters in to- a fight. She blinks owllishly. Then there's a sigh. "Oh popsicles." The short officer ponders this. Rubs the back of her head. Hmmm. She sizes things up. Oooh. She's distracted by dessert and grabs a tray. She's remarkably calm, prim and proper - the mark of upper class breeding. She hums, getting her rations on until - UNTIL - something nails her on the side of her head. Then there's a long pause and a stare. She turns. Neatly sorts her tray. Takes a deep breath. And /bellows/ in the special way only a Marine officer can. "That's quite enough you lot, now stop it and act like civilized beings /or else/." Deep breath. Peer. Shrug. Given her normally calm, friendly manner, one wonders what horrors the *or else* implies. Either way, she gives it a moment and goes for a spot. Doof.

Rian is spitting mad and breathing hard as the sergeant pulls her away, she fights against him of course but it doesn't take much to pull her back towards himself and the table. Trays littler the floor with uneaten and wasted food. The nugget pilots stop as Lysander points and demands them to back off, they look like they may re-think that order but a bellow echoes across the entire galley and forces everyone to look towards the kitchen. Angrily Rian pushes the sergeant's hand away from her, muttering, "get off of me…" She steps back and brushes a hand through her chili filled hair, her slender shoulders rise and fall with her quick breath. As the dull hum of chatter resumes and the scene slowly fades away one pilot dares to look her way again. A deadly glare from her dark eyes and a boot stomp forward and the nugget looks away, moving to clean up the spilled dinner.

The Sergeant's jaw tightens as he keeps his focus on the pilot-noobs but the nuggets back off as demanded which brings his attention to Rian and her utterance. He lets go and relaxes his expression and posture, taking the moment to inhale and exhale with a regular rhythm. The sudden adrenaline rush was, however, welcomed and is now appreciated. His hand is lifted from pointing in order for him to touch his brow and then he glances over towards Rian. "You okay?" He'd rather not budge too much from her side but he does incline his head elsewhere to see where his boss has gone off to. "Doubt the El-Tee'd ream anyone on this side for… this."

Sigh. Lunair might be annoyed. But it's hard to tell. Her bearing never shifts. Those strangely colored dark eyes are the only signs that she miiiiiiiight not be pleased with this. Whatever it seems to have calmed a bit, whether or not anyone heard her. She shrugs it off. Sigh. A doleful gaze is sent the pilots' way. "I hope you'll act like human beings and not wild animals, otherwise your CAG might not be too happy to hear," … this is a MARINE? Where's her monocle and porcelain tea cup? Maybe gloves and a riding crop? Huff. Then she notices Rian and Lysander, lifting her eyebrows. It's the only indication she is surprised. "Um." There's a pause. She fishes a white kerchief out of her pocket. "… here." She offers it to Rian. Better than nothing. "I'm afraid to ask, but you're not hurt are you?"

"I'm fine," Rian spits out through gritted teeth, though it's quite obvious she is anything but fine at the moment. "They're just lucky I'm not allowed to carry my side arm off-duty or there would be a few holes in our new pilots here." Taking a deep breath to try and calm her heart down the gravity of what happened slips into her mind, oh gods the rumour mill will be working overtime. Great way to stay beneath the radar Rian, just great. Dark eyes flash over to the LT wondering what, if any punishment she might get for blackening some eyeballs. Her glance does go towards the door and if she weren't trying her best to behave she would be out the hatch in a second without waiting to hear what her higher up might think. "I need a frakkin drink," she mutters out, eyes going to Lysander green pools before darting back to the deck. With a hand raised she denies the kerchief, "no thanks LT, it'd just stain it." If there is surprise over the new arrival's appearance Rian doesn't show it. People of all type are made to do all kinds of things in survival mode. "Permission to be excused," she does ask, perhaps formal but she doesn't want to walk out if a reprimand is in order.

Lysander nearly misses Rian's response since he's looking at the little fancy napkin that Lunair has pulled out of a pocket. He starts to speak up and with brows lifted curiously, and somewhat bemused, his expression falls and he stiffly nods. "She ain't kidding either," adds the Sergeant, with regards to shooting people, though that is more sardonic and wryly done than anything else. Garret looks over to Rian when she looks at him, and he reassuringly smiles. Then he quietly nods: drinks, those would be great. He pivots in place and looks at the group of trainee pilots for a while before glancing to Lunair and Rain. "Excused," he starts, "I smell that bad these days?"

Marko enters the Galley and queues up at the serving line, stifling a yawn behind a fist. The young ECO looks more than a little punked out.

It's really not fair. Occifers get side-arms! Though Lunair tilts her head. "Don't sweat it, in the chaos, I'm sure no one noticed. Fights are funny that way." The stories will have a range, no solid rumor. She shrugs. She nods and puts the kerchief away. "No need to ask here," Lunair waves a hand. "Go ahead and go where you need to," She smiles politely. She apparently wasn't here for the start of the fight. She lifts an eyebrow at Lysander, "Well. Don't joke about that. We've had people shot to death recently by a person with a sidearm," She shakes her head. It's not a reprimand, more of a gentle nudge. She pauses. "No, I simply suspect that no lady - Marine or otherwise - likes the feel of Fleet Chili in her hair. Gods know the stuff does wonders for clearing out the system in large doses I'm sure." She seems sympathetic enough. "However, I hope you aren't causing trouble?" She does at least have to /ask/. Then a pause, looking to the newcomer. There's a faint smile and wave to the young ECO.

Rian places her hands behind her back, hand holding wrist and elbows out in uniform manner. Dark eyes look up to Lysander as he asks, not able to tell if he is joking or not. "No sarge, it was actually quite good to smell you again." Looking down to her new LT with neutral expression and a curt nod, "no sir, just wanted to eat a quiet meal. I will be going to the head now however." Her huskey voice says shortly. With that she sets her sights on the causeway and wide, fast strides lead her from the galley passing a young ECO, glancing over him but not stopping to say high. Perhaps it's the dripping chili sauce in her hair.

Lysander starts to backtalk to Lunair but with a short breath he simply nods his head and reaches up with his right hand to idly rub at the back of his neck. He should be more respectful these days; but a holocaust made the man a mean ol' cynic, and it shows. "Oh, we're just, uh, enjoying the dinner meal, Sir. I suspect those nuggets ought to learn how to be real troopers of the fleet though," and he leaves his explanation at that, before looking toward Rian again. It's a double-take. His brain misfires and so he's left with just smirking, but it's an appreciative one. "I'll be remembering that line, Rian." In fact, he looks back over to the nuggets and then to Lunair: "I'll be excusing myself, too. Before someone makes me clean up something."

Marko nods to Rian as she passes then goes down the serving line to receive his portions with all the enthusiasm of a man picking out the members of his own firing squad. The only thing that seems to brighten his mood any at all is the sight of the bright green bug juice in the dispenser. A mug of ice is quickly filled as Marko tiredly turns to look about for a place to consume his squalid little supper. Then he spots Lunair, and the relief and happiness that fills his eyes is unmistakable. He wastes no time getting over there. "Hey you." he smiles to the Marine Lieutenant. "This seat taken?" he asks, then nods politely to Lysander.

She pauses. Lunair peers at Lysander. An eyebrow lifts. Did she pick up on it? Hmmm. "Mmhm. And I'm about 6 feet tall," She notes wryly "They fight too, just differently." A shrug. "Say what you will in your berthings, but general smack talk in the Galley is a bad idea. I'd really rather not have to deal with the paperwork involved in handling complaints, alright?" She sighs softly. She glances to Rian, amused. She waves at Lysander too then. "Fair enough. Be well." There's a smile at seeing Marko, her own expression warming a bit. "Hello there," She nods. She looks to the Lysander, to be sure. It would be rude not to after all.

"Six feet six, yep," readily counters the Sergeant before quieting down and properly listening. He probably shouldn't talk about his commanding officer's height like that. His arms return to being folded loosely over his chest and he succeeds at masking a smile throughout Lunair's words, nodding towards the end. From where he stands near to his old seating arrangement, he shifts his weight from one boot to the other and then looks to the approach of Marko. "Sirs," says he to both of them and he reaches up with his right hand to loosely salute. A grin then creeps along his expression and he quietly moves to depart.

Marko chuckles softly. "Oh, Gods, Sarge, enough with the saluting." Marko replies amiably as he takes his seat. "Unless you're giving me some kind of Marine Final Send Off." he notes with a smirk, then gestures to the array of what can only be loosely termed as 'food'. "That, I might actually need." he chuckles. "Take care, Sarge." he adds as Lysander departs. "Eh, Lun, do I wanna know why one of your troopers had chili in her hair?"

"Owch. You wound me," Lunair just accepts it for now. "Be well." She returns the salute carefully (Mindful that she's balancing her chow), and nods. She is an odd sort of officer, but at least she's wise enough to have a sense of humor and choose her battles. She quirks an eyebrow at his amused expression. She shrugs it off and nods at Marko, "Time to initiate table take over then. How are you, dear?" She asks quietly. She looks to Marko and sighs, "Bit of a food fight I guess." She isn't too sure, "I wasn't here when it started honestly."

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