PHD #253: EVENT - Colonel Pewter's Two-Step Twist
Colonel Pewter's Two-Step Twist
Summary: Triad with Colonel Pewter features some special guests, lots of booze up for grabs, and conversation both casual and not.
Date: 06 Nov 2041 AE
Related Logs: Colonel Pewter's Lonely Hearts Club Band; The Colonel Pewter March
Players:
Andrea Damon Lunair Sawyer Pewter Kepner Belgoin Parry Rian 
Recreation Room - Deck 9 - Battlestar Cerberus
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.
Post-Holocaust Day: #253

It's been some time since Colonel Pewter's semi-irregular Triad game with his crew, but the big man has sent out invitations and planted himself in the ship's recreation room today. The Colonel himself is seated at one of the tables, shuffling a deck of cards and talking casual-like with a tall, somewhat craggy-faced man whose commander's pins mark him out as Commander Rudolph Kepner of the good ship Areion. So the rumors were true. Pewter's sent out invites to those from the SpecOps ship for this little game. The two of them are chatting pleasantly enough at the moment as they wait for the other players to arrive. Kepner even laughs, loudly, at something Pewter says and slaps the old man's back. We're all friends here.

Andrea walks into the room with the air of someone who had been hurrying all the way up to the door, and now wanted to act casual. Nice job, Hosedown. She has only just gotten off of CAP, and looks a tad disheveled for it, but her smile radiates as she takes in the room, and the Bottle of Aerlinonian Whisky she brought from her time on the surface says that she has come to play.

Damon arrives looking smartly turned out in his greens. He carries a small box which contains something metallic from the noises it makes when he walks; it gets set down on the ground beside him as he takes a seat leaving plenty of space between himself and the two command officers. "Sir. Sir," he greets them in turn. He's usually not one for protocol, but he checks his arms at his sides as he addresses them. "Petty Officer First Class Damon, acting Deck Chief." He relaxes a bit more, still sitting with his back straight but not looking so stiff and formal. "Thanks for the invite."

Belgoin comes ambling in, albeit with his lopsided gait, ever-present cane and clipboard in their respective hands. Captain Belgoin presumably came over with Commander Kepner on the same Raptor, but has likely been doing what good engineers do: poke around the ship. As he's been doing, on and off, for the greater part of a month and a half. But tucked under his clipboard arm are a pair of tan boxes - humidors, presumably, knowing the Captain's habit for fine cigars. "I understand there are senior officers here looking to lose a considerable amount of money," he announces with a grin as he clears the bulkhead door.

Hmm. Cards! Lunair seems pleased to mingle in, and is especially curious about who will show up. She has something at her side, though she's dressed neatly and cleanly. She has a neat, dark royal purple headscarf covering freshly grown curls. Finally, a month or two without being shot in the head. She smiles at the others and glances around. "Sirs," She tilts her head politely. She smiles at Belgoin's comment. She nods, "Thank you for hte invitation." And she's brought with her some rather fine looking rum.

Sawyer is not crew, far from it actually. It is widely known, however, that she's had a long standing relationship with Command and some in airwing consider her the 'pet civvie'. Whatever it is, somehow Sawyer's snagged herself an invite to this evening's festivities and in she comes with a small rucksack slung over her shoulder housing whatever goodies she's gathered as bargaining chips for the card game. "Gentlemen, Ladies. I hope I'm not late to my own funeral." Dressed professionally as always, Sawyer smoothes out her pencil skirt and plops herself into a chair without any further fanfare. The bag gets partially unzipped and left to hang on the back of her chair. "Sawyer Averies. Resident nosy body." The introduction is made to Kepner, whom she hasn't had the opportunity to interrogate. Er. Meet.

The Colonel has booze of his own. A bottle of fine old bottle of Virgon brandy. These games are, if nothing else, opportunities to win something from his liquor cabinet. It's currently under the care of his lovely, redheaded yeoman, Petty Officer Deidre Parry. Who's presently seated at a table that's been set up with whatever non-perishable finger foods she could scrounge from the galley to make something resembling a buffet. It's not exactly salmon and exotic cheeses, but she's put some domestic artistry into the presentation. That's half the battle. At Belgoin's words, the big man laughs one of those big, gravelly laughs. "Your cubits don't mean shit these days…what do you call yourself, son?" Whether the 'son' applies to someone as old as Belgoin is debatable, but it's the moniker Pewter uses. "So I hope you brought something worth bartering over. Leave the goods with my Parry there…" A gesture toward his yeoman. "…and sit yourselves down. Been too long since I done this. No better way to talk to a body than over a Triad deck, I find. Too long, and plenty of new faces to play with." He slaps Kepner on the back, as if to emphasize this. A toothy grin to Sawyer as well. "Figured it might be time to get a pulse on the civilians as well, Miss Averies. Ain't nobody dying today. Excepting their pride, and maybe some of their prized possessions."

If Belgoin could look any more like a whipped, sad puppy… "I suppose it's the sign of the times, Colonel. I see we've reduced ourselves to liquor and… well, liquor. Allow me to liven things up then." One of the boxes he places on the table, leaving it in the care of the yeoman. The other box gets brought over to where the officers are sitting. "First pick goes to the men who pay my salary. Er, in liquor, I suppose." He flashes a smile, managing to open the box while balancing most of his weight, and his cane, on his good side. Inside, individually wrapped Kelban Whites from Leonis. "This is for savoring. Those," he nods towards the table. "Those are for every day. But they're also from Leonis, so don't think I'm bucking for a promotion, sirs."

Andrea smiles at the introduction, then hands the whisky over to the Yeoman with a smile. "Careful with that, it survived both Warday and and a curious band of Marines." She then turns to meet the superiors who are present. "Colonel, Admiral, a pleasure. I am Lt. Demarcos, recently reinstated after being rescued from Aerilon." Gesturing to the bottle she just left with the Yeoman, she smiles. "Aerilon sends its regards."

Lunair at least, has good manners and a fairly noble bearing going for her. She smiles, listening intently. She considers the offerings, setting her own Canceron rum down amongst them. "Pleased to meet you, I am Lieutenant Junior Grade Lunair-Scaurus. Raine is fine. My husband and I felt having two people with the same rank and last name could be hazardous," She notes with a quiet wryness. And indeed, it just might be. "A pleasure to meet you all, Canceron sends her regards too," She tilts her head politely again and grins at Pewter's comments.

Damon smiles and nods to the others in turn, greeting those he recognizes and those he doesn't alike. The box of whatever metallic goodies gets opened and shown off quickly before he closes it up again. There are four hand-made replica models in the box: the Cerberus, a Viper, a Raptor, and a Centurion. They're carefully crafted, meticulously painted, and the Cylon has a red light that moves back and forth in its 'eyes'. Maybe the ship models do something, too. "I figured there'd be enough tobacco and booze being brought to this party," he explains as he brings it over to Parry's table. "Choice of one of the replicas for the winner. I figure that's about as unique a bet as I could make. Unfortunately, I didn't have enough time to make one of the Areion." He grins apologetically to Kepner.

Kepner flashes a grin at Andrea that deepens the crags in his face, but there's a merriment to it all the same. "Just Commander, my dear. Commander Rudolph Kepner, CEX-Areion. And may I say, a thanks to your Colonel Pewter for the invitation, and to your fine crew for flying with us since we blew the frak out of those toasters up over Sagittaron not so long ago. Been good to see fellow Colonial faces again. Been real good. Thanks, Thad." A nod to Belgoin, taking a cigar and lighting it up. He won't pilfer Belgoin's betting pool, but he's damn well going to smoke one of them since the Areion engineer's got them. "Already left some of my prized chocolate-covered cherries with your lovely, lovely P-O Parry there. Sweets to the sweet and such. Been wanting to get to you know all better." Sawyer is eyed curiously. Hard to tell what he makes of her, however. He's polite enough, still all smiles. "Haven't mixed much with the civs, in particular." A laugh to Damon. "That'd take you some time to craft there, my good man. Areion's one of a kind. One. Of. A. Kind."

Rian arrives from the Deck 9.
Rian has arrived.

"I'm not sure if I'm the best regarding their pulse then, Colonel. Blood pressure seems to go up when I'm around." There's a flash of a wink to Pewter and then Sawyer is holding out her napsack to the Yeoman for collection. "And I offer choice goodies from Aerilon and Leonis including but not limited to chocolate bars, over the counter medication, ring pops and temporary tattoos. Only the finest." She settles back in her chair, amusedly eyeing the other players as if to get a feel for them before they begin the card game. Her attention goes back to Kepner when he mentions civilians. "I'm sure you'll be seeing plenty of me, Commander. I also act as the ship's historian."

"Chief," pipes up Thaddeus once the senior officers have had their choice. He begins hobbling in Damon's direction, somehow managing to juggle his precious clipboard, the box of cigars, and his cane all at once. "I'm glad you're here. I've wanted to mention something to the deck chief for quite some time, now. I've been speaking to a Crewman Sofia Wolfe. She's been extraordinarily helpful with my survey of Cerberus' power systems and FTL drive. If there's anything I can do to make sure that her helpfulness is noted in her record, please, say the word. Cigar?" He offers the open box to Andreas.

Andrea bows her head slightly. "Excellent. Commander, then, and thank you very much." She grabs some food (flying CAP was hungry work) and then pulls up a seat at the table. "She is a pretty ship. And you have one hell of an airwing on it, as well. It was a real rush when we took them in that Wargame." Nothing wrong with a little competitive needling, right? "Any chance your birds will be joining us for Raptorball? I had the specs sent over to your pilots…"

The aforementioned lovely Petty Officer Parry circulates to take all the goods that're being betted. They're 'secured' on another table. That done, she checks a portable PDA that she keeps constantly in her pocket. Frowns. And proceeds over to nudge Pewter. The colonel blinks, taking the little hand-held. "You want to deal the first one, Rudy? Seems I got to take a call." And up he gets from the table, handing the deck over to the Areion CO and going over to a corner to thumb at the PDA. His booze still remains in the prize pool, of course.

"That she is, Commander," Damon replies to Kepner with a single nod. "Of course, I couldn't even get proper schematics for her - though I've been reading some interesting details about the upgrades on your birds." He reluctantly leaves Parry's table to reclaim his seat, but is intercepted by Belgoin. "Oh, er, I don't really - I'm not exactly a - sure," he says, looking over the cigars. You might as well ask him to appraise a diamond - he has no clue at all when it comes to these things. So he picks one at random and holds it awkwardly like it's going to attack him if he brings it too close to his body. "Sofie's been helping you with things, has she?" he asks with a grin. "That's good. She's plenty helpful to us Deck crew as well. She belongs to the Engineers, but I'll make sure your comments are passed on, Captain."

Lunair smiles politely at Kepner, nodding. She listens more than speaks. She's settled quietly into a seat. "Interesting," She's pleased to listen and considers her hand now that things have started. Hmm. Her poker face is pretty good and would do strange women in sparkling hats proud. She seems rather calm. "I am glad things are going well," She considers. She's a bit reserved for now, but warming up to company. Another peer at the cards and bet. Hrrm.

"She should be a deckie," Belgoin says as he gets settled at the table. He leans his cane against the table and places his clipboard on the floor beside his chair. "Engineers are stuffy, pretentious folk. I know - I work with them day-in and day-out. She has a way about her that makes it easy to get things done. Be careful, Chief, I may just poach her for the Areion." That last part said in joking, of course. And then the cards are examined, and the betting begins.

Kepner takes the cards and doles them out. He doesn't even reshuffle the deck. Perhaps not wanting to even hint at the thought that he might stack if. "Sure, Andy, sure, sure," he says to Pewter, words a bit muffled by his mouth around his cigar as he deals. "And my Areion's a diamond, that's for sure. You ever want a proper tour of her insides, Petty Officer, let me know. I'd be happy to show your around. Our girl's got a lot of toys and, given the state of the worlds, best we get to letting everyone play with them." A nod to Andrea. "Raptorball? Yeah. Heard our Lieutenant Colonel Baer mention something about that. Can't have our flyboys and girls getting bored. They're starting too itch, after all this quiet." From his tone, so is he. Head tilts up at Sawyer once all the cards are out. Cigar out of his mouth. Curious. "Historian, eh? What kind of history you keeping so far, Ma'am?"

"I been sayin' that for a little while now," Damon says, agreeing with Belgoin's sentiment. "Er, the Sofia-being-Deck part, not the pretentious-stuffy-Engineer part," he adds hastily, picking up his cards. He's trying real hard to keep a neutral face. Too hard, really - he doesn't even look like he's breathing. Just sitting stark still and blinking once in a while, eyes darting to the other players to gauge their reactions. "I'd love to take a good look around your ship, Commander," he says to Kepner. "Especially your birds - schematics just ain't the same as seeing and feeling for yourself."

Andrea whistles to herself as Damon throws some chips onto the table. "Thats a nice bet there, Damon. But I remember last week. How sure about this bet are you, this time?" She grins. "I seem to remember you guarunteeing one hand…"

"Raptorball?" Lunair seems curious. She smiles at the engineering discussion, pleased to hear everyone is getting along. "… I've never heard of that one, admittedly," What a ground pounder. Cautiously now, Lunair wades into the conversation.

Sawyer palms her stack of six hexagonal cards, fanning them out in front of her, keeping them beveled so that only she presumably can see them. She start to rearrange them in some order that makes sense to her, switching this one for that and when the bet comes around to her, she merely calls while answering Kepner. "So far? A running tally on everything that's occurred since Picon Anchorage and warday. A chronological collection of all AARs, ship's movements and planetary events that we're aware of. When I'm able, they include first hand accounts by myself, but I haven't really been out in the field since Saggitaron." She tosses in her cards when the bet makes its way around. "Had a whole hand of pretty colors, but not that pretty." She flicks her eyes up, "Yes, what is Raptorball exactly?"

All builds are complete!
Andrea's Triad:
G1 ^ R2 ^^ G2 ^^ R3 ^ G3 ^ B3 ^^^
< LARGE MIXED (GREEN HIGH) - 32 POINTS >

Damon's Triad:
G1 ^ G2 ^^ G2 ^^ G3 ^ G3 ^ G3 ^^^
< LARGE GREEN (FULL COLORS!!) - 37 POINTS >

Lunair's Triad:
R1 ^ G2 ^^ G3 ^ B3 ^ B3 ^ B3 ^
< SMALL MIXED (RED HIGH) - 13 POINTS >

Kepner's Triad:
R2 ^^ R3 ^ R3 ^
< SMALL RED - 18 POINTS >

Damon WINS!!

Belgoin grunts as his cards don't quite line up the way he does, and he folds. "You know, Commander's permission and all, I could show you the ongoing projects we've been working on, Chief." He doesn't seem to think there's a difference between 'acting' and, well, not. "Been trying to nail down Lieutenant Trask for a while, but I figured, might as well show the Chief of the Deck. He's going to need to know how our gear works if he's going to have his people support it, after all. A demonstration's in order for the Linked… damn!" That last part, at Damon's full colors.

Kepner laughs another of those jolly laughs. Puffing away at his cigar, deftly handling his cards with his off-hand. The man's obviously enjoying himself. "Sure, sure," he says to Damon. "I'll have old Papa ship a Raptor over for you to poke around in properly. Maybe one of our Vipers, too, but you won't be able to keep it long. Our pilots are a little partial to their rides, as they're most of them customized for how all of ours fly. Makes them attached." Of which, from his tone, he approves. He seems more interested in watching the people around the table than his cards. His bets are made without much obvious thought. He makes a token "Damn" as he turns his cards up, but doesn't seem put out about coming up small.

Damon lays down his full colors proudly, wagging his cigar at Andrea. "Maybe the last game was just to plant misinformation about my playing style," he says with a broad grin. He rakes in the pot and stacks his chips, looking pretty pleased with his first hand. "That'd be much appreciated, Commander," he says to Kepner with a nod. "And aye, Captain. I've been getting some information from Lieutenant Trask about adapting your modifications on our birds as well - I think we're about to move into the implementation phase. I understand he's been running sim tests with select pilots."

Andrea shakes her head as the cards are shown. Her best hand yet, and of course the Petty Officer has full colors. "Should have brought my teddy bear instead of the whisky. Everyone needs some security every now and again." Glancing around, when asked, she grins. "Raptorball was an idea I had back down on Aerilon, when I was imagining what I would do if I ever got to fly again. It's like gridiron in space, with Raptors tractoring a ball to the opposing zone while Vipers try to take it out. Fun for both Airwings, and fun to watch, as well, I imagine. CAG liked the idea, and here we are, about to run it."

Pewter is still on his PDA, grunting at his works the little buttons with his large thumbs. A born texter, he is not.

Word's been buzzing all over the scuttlebut that the current acting CO of the Cereberus has made his way down to the Rec Room for a card game. Rian heads there straight after watch duty still clad in her a toned down marine blacks, missing helmet, gloves, vest and weapons belt. Heavy boots sound her arrival but quickly fade in the hum of chit chat in the room. Dark eyes partially covered by messy chunks of bangs look over the many new and known faces around the table. One brow rises as she scans the loot in the middle of the card game, are those ring pops? Without saying much and nodding hello to those that recognize her she moves to an out of the way spot leaning against the cold metal wall but still having a good view of the game. Taking the time to inspect the players more closely she obviously tenses and frowns as her gaze falls upon Damon. Saying nothing she remains leaning her shoulders back on the wall, hands moving to a pocket to find a smoke and lighter, wasting no time bringing it to her lips, lighting it and taking a long drag. Nothing like the first cig after duty.

Lunair blinks, obviously caught off-guard by Damon's hand. Her eyebrows lift. "Well-played," She considers. She takes a deep breath and considers it. She's persistent, keeping herself in the rounds for now. She glances to the others. Ther's a polite smile at Rian. Lunair seems amused and straightens a little so she doesn't sink entirely into her chair. Her dark purple eyes narrow a bit as she considers her hand. "Interesting," She smiles at the explanation of Raptorball.

Belgoin tosses another hand away, not even giving this one the benefit of a bet. "I believe Trask's been working with our Seven-Point-Fives… our Viper modifications. Some of my theory goes into those birds," he says, not puffing proudly or anything, but apparently just stating fact. "I was more talking about our Linked ECM project. Ever work with networked ECM, Chief?"

Sawyer grows quiet at the table during the current line of conversation, perhaps concentrating on her turn to shuffle up and deal. Once everyone has their cards, she starts to rearrange hers again.

Lunair rubs the back of her head as … people seem to be folding. She just … quirks her brows. A shrug and she places a small bet. She is content to listen for a moment then.

Apparently, Damon's second hand is nowhere near as good as his first. With a look of disgust, he throws 'em in, waving away the bet. Gotta hoard that stash, man. "Networked ECM? Can't say I have, Captain," he admits, though he looks curious. "My background is older ships - besides teaching at A-School, my previous tours were on Heavy Cruiser Demeter, Battlestar Hyperion, and Gunstar Sarpedon. So I didn't get to play with much of the fancy technology. Catching up to the Cerberus' level was a bit of a culture-shock for me."

Kepner sits back and lets the techs do the talking about the ECM, though his ears obviously perk with interest. Particularly of what Damon makes of the idea. He must not like his cards this time around, as his are folded. He just puffs away at his cigar and observes the table.

All builds are complete!
Lunair's Triad:
R2 ^^ G2 ^^ R3 ^ R3 ^ G3 ^^^
< MEDIUM MIXED (RED HIGH) - 23 POINTS >

Sawyer's Triad:
G2 ^^ G3 ^ G3 ^
< SMALL GREEN - 17 POINTS >

Lunair WINS!!

At one point in the conversation, Sawyer is actually grinding her teeth together. Maybe she just has a horrible hand again. Whatever the case, she sticks through the second round of betting, throwing her chips and and leaning over the table to see what Lunair lays down. "Nice hand." She murmurs, before lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. As she passes the deal off, she gets up to quickly find a glass of water. "I'd like to go along. Both during the tour of the Areion and the round of Raptorball." Leave it to Sawyer to always invite herself along.

"Any sort of computer-linked operation is risky, with what we now know about tye Cylons and their ability to infiltrate networked computer systems," Belgoin explains for Damon's benefit, and anyone else who might be listening. "But, since the Areion has bleeding edge technology - no offense to Cerberus, she's a fine ship - we think we have come up with some algorithms that will keep the Toasters out long enough for a Linked ECM barrage. Consider ECM jamming that's greater than the sum of all Raptors linked in this network, with Areion at its heart. The power requirements, however, like most of our newer technology, tend to be higher."

Andrea glances at her cards, but then looks up. "Hang on, I thought Cereberus was being actively commissioned when Warday hit. Areion is more advanced than that? That is pretty darn impressive."

An owlish blink. Lunair turns red a little at winning. Well would you look at that. She seems as surprised as anyone else. But either way, ever onward! She listens to Belgoin, and smiles faintly. "That sounds incredibly complex," She admits. "I wish you luck with it," She offers. "I'm afraid you're leaving me in the dust with it," She grins faintly. She looks to Sawyer and tilts her head. "Thank you," She offers quietly. She says nothing on going on the tour. "It must be an interesting ship."

"Well played, El-Tee," Damon says to Lunair after the cards are shown. He spins the unlit cigar through his fingers as he would a pen, looking over the hand that Lunair deals him. Hmm. The neutral expression is completely forgotten, replaced with a speculative look that sweeps across the table. He listens to Belgoin's explanation, but his main interest seems to be in gauging the other players right now. "I imagine that has other requirements as well," Damon says with a thoughtful frown as he calls Belgion's raise. "Hardware as well as software. Are there any drawbacks besides power consumption? I imagine with the throughput from something like that, even friendly systems - like comms - would end up getting jammed. Or can it be directed?"

Belgoin flashes a grin in Damon's direction. "You pick up quick, Chief. Just like with any ECM burst, there's going to be static and interrupted systems across the board. But, it's a directed burst, and we have more or less focused our technology on the band of electromagnetic spectrum that the Cylons use. Friendly fire risk is minimal. And as long as we are surgical with our usage of it, the Toasters won't be able to adapt fast enough. Leaves them blind, deaf, and dumb long enough for our Raptors to get out and our Vipers to clean up the mess. Not quite as clutch as The Gun, of course, but still quite powerful a tool in our shed."

Kepner turns his gaze to Sawyer, eyes very bright. Sharp. Though his grin never wavers. He laughs. "A civilian on the CEX. Ha! That'll make Maddy spin some cartwheels in her grave. You know much about Admiral Madeline Hauck, Miss Averies? Not much of a lady, but a hell of an officer. If the Navy'd had more like her, we might not've ended up where we are now." Despite the less-than-happy comment, his manner's still all smiles and fun and games. "But, what the hell? Sure. Come take a look, for historical purposes. Not like we've got to worry about design leaks anymore, and it'd do the Fleet good to know what my girl could do." He turns that bright grin to Andrea. "Damn straight she is, girl. Areion's a prototype, wasn't officially on the books outside Intel before the bombs fell. Works damn well, too, I'm proud to say. No frakking toaster will be getting inside our network, Petty Officer. And it's like anything else. The more hands you put into it, the stronger it gets, and strength is the only way we're ever going to triumph when we face the Cylons again." He doesn't shrink from the betting this time though, still, it's the people he watches with more interest than his cards.

Lunair blushes a little. She seems like she's trying to work her way into the conversation though all this ship and ECM talk is leaving her in the dust a bit. "She's no ordinary civilian," Lunair comments quietly, offering a slight vouch for the reporter. "The Admiral sounds like quite a woman," She considers, politely respectful of those passed. The network makes her tilt her head.

Just as things are looking up for Thaddeus, the ship's comms go off, with someone from CIC looking for 'Captain Belgoin' to pick up the black courtesy phone. Sighing, and looking at his hand, he says, "Another time." Folding promptly, he nods to Kepner. "Ball's in your court, sir. I'm going to see who needs a nappy change." He nods to the table. "Everyone, a pleasure." And he takes up his affects and goes, leaving both boxes of cigars behind. Legendary cigar generosity.

"Sounds like a hell of a thing," Damon says, the cigar still spinning between his fingers. He uses it to poke chips into the pot, which is getting pretty damn big this hand. The knuckledragger looks more and more nervous as chips pile up in the center of the table. "But what happens if - " The question is cut short by the comms, and off the Captain goes. "Ah well," he mutters to himself. "Enough time for questions later, I guess." He narrows his eyes at his cards and pokes in more chips with his cigar.

Sawyer quirks a smile as Kepner relents to her being aboard the prototype ship, "Don't worry, I don't bite and I assure you I'm mostly house trained." As money bags on the other side of the table keeps building the pot, Sawyer frowns down at her cards. Some quick math is tallied, and she must realize she's pot committed. Another 100 in chips goes in.

All builds are complete!
Sawyer's Triad:
R2 ^^ R2 ^^ R3 ^ G3 ^ B3 ^^^
< MEDIUM MIXED (RED HIGH) - 23 POINTS >

Kepner's Triad:
G2 ^^ G2 ^^ G3 ^ B3 ^ B3 ^^^
< MEDIUM MIXED (GREEN HIGH) - 22 POINTS >

Andrea's Triad:
B1 ^ B2 ^^ B2 ^^ R3 ^ R3 ^ G3 ^^^
< LARGE MIXED (BLUE HIGH) - 31 POINTS >

Damon's Triad:
G1 ^ G2 ^^ B2 ^^ G3 ^ B3 ^ B3 ^^^
< LARGE MIXED (GREEN HIGH) - 32 POINTS >

Lunair's Triad:
R1 ^ R2 ^^ R2 ^^ R3 ^ R3 ^ R3 ^^^
< LARGE RED (FULL COLORS!!) - 38 POINTS >

Lunair WINS!!

"She was at that, Lieutenant, she was at that," Kepner says to Lunair, as to Hauck. "Andy tells me you found her ship, the Invictus, blown to seven hells off Parnassus Anchorage. Well, the old warhouse went out fighting the Cylons. Figure she wouldn't have wanted it any other way." There's respect - and a fierce devotion even beyond that - in his tone as he speaks of the woman. A nod to Belgoin as the engineer goes. He grins. "That's the beauty of delegation, right there. You get the right people manning your ship, gives the CO more time to play." He lays his cards down but, again, doesn't look terribly interested in how the hand falls.

Sawyer gives a quiet laugh as everyone lays down and Lunair once more emerges victorious. "I think she's sharking us." As her stack of chips dwindles, the journalist starts toying with what remains, trying to shuffle them in one hand which just results in them splaying out in front of her. Practice makes perfect, so they are stacked up and she tries again. "Pass over one of those cigars."

"Frak a Quack…" Andrea mutters as the cards are shown. "I am drowning in good hands, here. S'pose this is why Daddy always said never to play cards." Pushing her pretty but losing hand away, she shakes her head, but then nods to Lunair. "Nice one, Lunair. Gotta play that for all its worth."

"Well, since the good Captain's gone," Damon drawls conversationally. "I'd like to ask a question to the command - " He stops mid-sentence when Lunair shows her hand. Red Full Colors. He blinks at the hand, blinks at Lunair, blinks at the massive pot. "Well played, El-Tee," he says with a whistle. "I never seen a full colors in red before." It takes him a second to remember that he was in the middle of asking a question. "If you don't mind my asking, sir, what's the plan for the so-calld 'civilian freighter'? Will the civilians have full control of the ship and her operations, or will the Fleet maintain overall command of it?"

A soft laugh and a blush again. The purple eyed Marine shakes her head, "Just luck. But thank you." Lunair smiles politely. "I'm kind of surprised," She admits. There's a smile at Kepner too. Though it fades and she nods solemnly, "That they did. Very brave," She offers quietly. "It would be too rough for an officer to try to do everything themselves," She notes. "And selfish. Doing things teaches people," She notes quietly. Lunair will quietly pass over a cigar with Belgoin's permission, whispering a soft please and thank you. Then a blink. "Me?" She's unsure for a moment.

"Hells, full colors," Kepner says with one of those wide, craggy, almost too-bright grins. "That's worth the trip over right there." Belgoin's cigars he allows to be shared with abandon. Belgoin's gone, so it's not like the engineer can complain. Damon's question gets an off-hand shrug, as if it's not a topic he's given any thought to at all. "I'd sure as hells hope Andy and Laughlin on the Praetorian are going to keep some authority over it. But, the freighter isn't my concern." Indeed, he sounds almost bored by the topic. "Though speaking of command, you all have any idea when your Rear Admiral's trial is going to roll into gear? No time to waste when it comes to possible Cylon agents, to my mind." Despite the comment, still all smiles and off-hand bets.

All builds are complete!
Lunair's Triad:
G1 ^ G2 ^^ B2 ^^ G3 ^ B3 ^
< SMALL MIXED (GREEN HIGH) - 12 POINTS >

Sawyer's Triad:
B1 ^ R2 ^^ B2 ^^ R3 ^ R3 ^ G3 ^^^
< LARGE MIXED (BLUE HIGH) - 31 POINTS >

Kepner's Triad:
R2 ^^ R2 ^^ B3 ^ B3 ^ B3 ^^^
< MEDIUM MIXED (RED HIGH) - 23 POINTS >

Damon's Triad:
R1 ^ R2 ^^ G2 ^^ R3 ^ G3 ^ B3 ^^^
< LARGE MIXED (RED HIGH) - 33 POINTS >

Damon WINS!!

Damon whews in relief when his hand wins. "Slowly catchin' up to you, El-Tee," he says to Lunair with a wink. He doesn't bother stacking his chips; he's content to let them sit as a messy pile in front of him. "I haven't heard anything on the Admiral's trial - not since he got arrested," he says. The topic is not one he's enthusiastic about, from the tone of his voice.

Andrea just pushes away her new cards in disgust, not even bothering to waste chips on them. She's still reeling from the full colors, it seems. At mention of the Rear Admiral, she just shakes her head. The man was already imprisoned before she was saved, and so she has no real opinion on the matter. How did one try a rear admiral without an admiralty board?

Sawyer shakes her head at the fall of the cards again, "Can't give a girl at least one win?" The journalist asks of Damon while leaning to retrieve the cigar from Lunair. "At this rate, I'm going to need something stronger to drink than water to soothe my raw deals." She finds a cigar snip in circulation, nipping off the tip of her cigar before lighting the other. Her cheeks hallow out with the first few puffs that she draws into her mouth, and the smoke is exhaled towards the ceiling. "As of right now, I believe they are getting ready for jury selection." Leaning slightly aside, she mentions to Andrea, "I think you and I should have listened to our Daddies."

Brave? Stupid? Hard to tell with Lunair. She perhaps figures she might as well roll with the game. A deep blush, "Thanks." She offers quietly. Then a blink as she promptly loses the next hand. There's a wry smile. "Luck is fickle, well played," She nods to Damon. At the mention of the Rear Admiral Lunair almost pales a bit. "Soon is all I'm told," She admits. She smiles faintly at Sawyer's comment.

Then a pause and a grin at Damon. "Are you sure you aren't ahead of me?" Lunair asks.

Damon looks down at his messy pile of chips and shrugs. "I… might be? I don't think so, though," he says to Lunair. "I'm pretty sure you took a hell of a payload on that full colors hand. But never underestimate a deckie's determination when booze is on the line, El-Tee." When Sawyer cuts and lights her cigar, he watches closely - he has no idea how it's supposed to be done, and he doesn't want to look like a complete moron in front of the others. So he mirrors what the reporter just did and hopes he's doing it right.

"We had some trouble with one of those frak-stain flesh Cylons aboard our ship, too," Kepner says. And that smile remains on his face as he talks of his, so casually. He's an open, smiling, unwisely-betting book. "Same clone as the thing that was calling itself Morgenfield aboard this ship, so Andy tells me." Puff, puff, puff. "We solved that problem real quick when we figured out what it was." He sounds fiercely and grim. And his smile never wavers. A waggle of his cigar at Sawyer, to double as a nod. "Hell of a thing, that'd be. To think a Cylon wormed its way into the admiralty. It'd make a lot of things make sense, though. Looking at how the attacks went down, how total the destruction was. It'd make a terrible lot of sense."

Gods know where Pewter's gone to. Whatever he was dealing with on his hand-held apparently drove him to quietly exit. Leaving them in Kepner's tender care.

Sawyer keeps her focus on her cards, arranging them neatly. "Innocent until proven guilty, Commander." There's a pause as she takes another puff of her cigar, never cycling the smoke into her lungs. "But yes. Helluva thing." She murmurs, then scans the other faces before making her discard and deciding what to do from there.

"It is a troubling thing, those flesh cylons," Lunair admits quietly. "They simply gave us one heck of a sucker punch," She sighs softly. An amused look at Damon, "Well. Sometimes fate is kind to those who can't reach the top shelves." A shrug and a smile. "Though- from what I heard my enlisted talk about, I suspect the power of that booze determination could move a ship." She winks. She looks sympathetic to Pewter, but listens for a moment. She offers no comment on the trial.

All builds are complete!
Damon's Triad:
G2 ^^ R3 ^ R3 ^
< SMALL MIXED (GREEN HIGH) - 12 POINTS >

Lunair's Triad:
G1 ^ G2 ^^ G3 ^ G3 ^ G3 ^^^
< SMALL GREEN - 17 POINTS >

Sawyer's Triad:
B2 ^^ R3 ^ G3 ^
< SMALL MIXED (BLUE HIGH) - 11 POINTS >

Kepner's Triad:
R2 ^^ B2 ^^ R3 ^ R3 ^ R3 ^^^
< MEDIUM MIXED (RED HIGH) - 23 POINTS >

Kepner WINS!!

Andrea is fairly out of her depth. She'd heard of the flesh Cylons but hadn't seen one, at least not yet, though one member of her airwing seemed at least fairly certain that she was one, herself. Shaking her head, she looks down at her cards, which don't cheer her up, very much.

"Oh, yeah, innocent until proven guilty," Kepner says to Sawyer with another of those sharp-eyed, grinning looks her direction. It's said almost dismissive, but he doesn't pursue the subject further. His grin gets even wider as he lays down his cards. And this hand's his. "Can't lose them all." Still, he doesn't openly celebrate. His expression is no different than it was during his previous string of losses.

"Morgenfield was one of ours, Commander," Damon says quietly. Ours meaning the Deck's. "And another, Coll, is being investigated on suspicion of being a Cylon. Both are dead, of course." His face has gone back to being blank and unreadable. "It's bad enough having one on the Deck - a second suspected…" He shakes his head. "Well, we'll have to see what the investigation and the trial turn out. Though I don't know about a trial for Cylons. Just seems kind of…" Absentmindedly, he chews on his lip. "Off."

All builds are complete!
Damon's Triad:
R1 ^ R2 ^^ G2 ^^ B3 ^ B3 ^ B3 ^^^
< LARGE MIXED (RED HIGH) - 33 POINTS >

Lunair's Triad:
R1 ^ R2 ^^ B2 ^^ G3 ^ G3 ^ G3 ^^^
< LARGE MIXED (RED HIGH) - 33 POINTS >

Damon WINS!!

A slow nod at that. "Yes, but I refuse to allow the accusation of being a skin job to become a weapon to be turned on one another," Lunair poitns out quietly. "Without a trial and evidence, how easy it would be to say of someone hated, surely they are a skinjob," She notes. "As it sits it still tends to damage one's reputation just to be *accused*," She bites her lower lip and shifts her cards. She blinks at the hand. "Ah. Well played."

That does catch Andrea's attention. "You don't even need to hate, you could just be paranoid. Look at Spiral. The man KNOWS me, he gave me my callsign, for fraks sake, back on the Volans. Then he sees me down on Aerilon, pulls his pistol, and wants to just strand me down there. Paranoia is a dangerous weapon, and if we start going off half-cocked…" she sighs, then smiles at the Commander. "Well, if we'd let Spiral go off, your team would have won that wargame."

Sawyer smirks at the Commander, but her attention goes back to the game. Her stack is dwindling, so this is where Averies tightens up her play. There's a vague nod at the assessment from Lunair and Andrea, but she remains quietly toking on her cigar.

Kepner shakes his head to Damon. "Those frak-stains can be anywhere and anyone, Petty Officer. That was their purpose. Infiltration. Covert ops. And the only place you can frak with a ship better than the Deck or Engineering is…" Pause. "…CIC." He shuffles his cards in his fingers, frowns, and lays them down on the table. "They were obviously planning this for a long, long time." Sharp-eyed look to Lunair and Andrea now. Though, still, his smile never wavers. "Nothing wrong with not being too trusting to my mind, Lieutenant. Not given what we know the Cylons are capable of. We are at war, easy as it is to forget it in a quiet sector like this. I figure it won't stay quiet for long."

"Whew. By the skin of my teeth," Damon replies to Lunair with a smile. "And I understand what you're saying, El-Tee, but… trial by jury to convict a Cylon? I just don't know if that's the best way, y'know?" He continues to chew on his lip as he thinks. "I'm just a knuckledragger, so these're just idle thoughts. But it's been months and months that the Admiral's been in custody. What if he is a Cylon? How do we know he hasn't been slipping back all his intel and whatnot about us to, I don't know, his mothership or whatever it is, through other means?"

A soft laugh. "No kidding," Lunair nods, "Well done," She murmurs. She can appreciate a tense round after all. She shrugs at Damon. "I don't know what we can do other than a trial to present evidence fairly. We don't exactly have a Cylon Test," She notes quietly. "And I doubt they would volunteer such information, except for … an exception," She shakes her head. She seems pleased enough with the game so far. "It's one thing not to be trusting, it's another altogether to destroy an innocent person," She points out. "Like I said, if someone you hate has a position you want … calling them a skinjob would be a fast way to oust them," She sighs, "If people aren't level headed. Though I hope we clear the skinjobs out personally. Gives me a bad feeling," She admits.

All builds are complete!
Damon's Triad:
G1 ^ R2 ^^ R2 ^^ R3 ^ R3 ^ R3 ^^^
< LARGE MIXED (GREEN HIGH) - 32 POINTS >

Lunair's Triad:
R1 ^ R2 ^^ B2 ^^ G3 ^ B3 ^ B3 ^^^
< LARGE MIXED (RED HIGH) - 33 POINTS >

Sawyer's Triad:
G1 ^ B2 ^^ B2 ^^ R3 ^ R3 ^ B3 ^^^
< LARGE MIXED (GREEN HIGH) - 32 POINTS >

Lunair WINS!!

"So the enemy looks like us, now. It's not like that was new. Most of our action since the last war has been against insurgents, usually from Saggitarron, and they looked like us, too." She shakes her head. "Its a war like any other. We have to guard our resources, and right now people are our most precious resource, right?" Andrea takes her new cards, and looks them over.

"The so-called 'Eleven' you mean." Sawyer shakes her head and throws in her cards. Barely having two chips to rub together, she can't afford to risk it on a draw. "So many questions left unanswered with that one."

"Those insurgents were still human, Lieutenant. The Cylons aren't us. Whether they wear flesh or metal." For the first time, Kepner's grin wavers at Andrea. Though he fixes his concentration on his cards, so he doesn't really scowl *at* her. "Petty Officer's got the right idea. Who the frak knows how they can communicate, what they can gather in whatever kind of robot brain's still buried in their fleshy skulls. Should give us all a bad feeling. Nothing wrong with a little paranoia when they really *are* out to get you." He looks up when Sawyer mentions the Eleven. Friendly expression back. "Yeah. I've heard some really strange stories from Andy about that one. Really strange."

"Mmm," Lunair nods softly. She sighs softly. "It is a very strange story, but it raises a lot of questions about how much they learned from us," She admits. "And a lot of questions period." She furrows her brows, setting down a card. She takes a deep breath. "Well, I think I've heard a few things but. This is honestly not my favorite subject," Lunair confesses quietly.

"But isn't even our information about 'The Eleven' from a Cylon?" Damon asks. He's been timidly puffing on the cigar so far, but he tries to pull a move he probably saw in the movies and takes in a thick mouthful of smoke - only to sputter and cough. So much for trying the cool-guy move. "I mean, almost everything I know is hearsay, but… for all we know, one of us sitting here is a Cylon. Which begs the question: what are they waiting for? If they're hiding amongst us, why don't they just bring the whole ship down? They keep doing little things like sabotaging birds, but if the Admiral's one of them, they could kill the whole Fleet right now. Instead, they're playing a fear game. That's what terrorism is, isn't it? So what is it that they really want?"

All builds are complete!
Kepner's Triad:
R2 ^^ R3 ^ B3 ^
< SMALL MIXED (RED HIGH) - 13 POINTS >

Andrea's Triad:
G1 ^ G2 ^^ B2 ^^ R3 ^ R3 ^ G3 ^^^
< LARGE MIXED (GREEN HIGH) - 32 POINTS >

Lunair's Triad:
B1 ^ R2 ^^ G3 ^ G3 ^ B3 ^ B3 ^
< SMALL MIXED (BLUE HIGH) - 11 POINTS >

Andrea WINS!!

"Well, we already know they like to experiment." Sawyer comments to Damon off-handedly before going back to her cards and her cigar, shifting both around as she makes her hand. "I think this is my last hand. I forsee me leaving without my candy bars."

Kepner is having no trouble smoking deep. So at least he looks cool while losing yet another hand. But, still, he doesn't seem at all put out about his run of non-luck. Another cigar-waggle between his fingers to double as a nod. To Damon this time. "From what I hear, it sounds like it was playing some long game. Earning your trust. Gods only knows for what," he says, as to the Eleven. Then a smile to Lunair. "But. The Lieutenant's right. Unpleasant subject. So, if the Cylons hadn't blown the worlds up, who do you all figure would've taken the Pyramid championship this year? I had my money on Picon."

"That's money you'd have lost, Commander," Andrea says with a smile. "Picon was flashy but way too frail. No way they get through the tournament healthy. This was Aerilon's year, and they'd have left some bruises along the way."

Pyramid talk seems to perk Damon right up. "Picon?" he scoffs. "Not on your life, Commander. I should be rooting for Tauron, I know, but Virgon drafted half the frakking Taurian players anyway - " He pauses to rap his knuckles on the table twice when it comes time for him to discard, confident in his hand. "Aerilon might've had a shot," he admits to Andrea. "They were playing well defensively. But Virgon had the shooters."

Hmm. Pyramid seems a bit foreign to Lunair, but she manages a smile and tilts her head listening. "Really now?" She considers. She quirks her brows at Damon's bet. Oh my. Very well then, she quietly matches it.

Sawyer shakes her head and tosses in her cards. "Enjoy my antacids, ladies and gentlemen. I surely wish I could." She winks at the table at large and stands up from her hand and the table, drifting away with the remainder of her cigar so she can see how the rest of the hand plays out.

Kepner throws Sawyer one of those bright-eyed grins over his cards. "Take one of Thad's cigars home, Miss Averies. And I'll be in touch about that tour of my fair lady. I'd like the Fleet to know as much as they can about what my Areion can do." As for Aerilon, a shrug to Andrea. "Could be, Lieutenant. Could be. And that's the only way to win most of the time. Nothing worth fighting over won't leave you with a few bruises, but it makes victory all the sweeter."

All builds are complete!
Kepner's Triad:
G1 ^ G2 ^^ B2 ^^ G3 ^ B3 ^ B3 ^^^
< LARGE MIXED (GREEN HIGH) - 32 POINTS >

Damon's Triad:
R1 ^ R2 ^^ G2 ^^ G3 ^ B3 ^ B3 ^^^
< LARGE MIXED (RED HIGH) - 33 POINTS >

Lunair's Triad:
B1 ^ B2 ^^ B2 ^^ R3 ^ R3 ^ B3 ^^^
< LARGE MIXED (BLUE HIGH) - 31 POINTS >

Damon WINS!!

Andrea shakes her head as she stands, and tosses the rest of her chips on. "I'm back on duty soon, sir, but I have to roll out. It has been a pleasure, sir."

Lunair smiles sympathetically at Sawyer. Though, she looks to the hands and tasks softly. She sets her cards down. "A thousand difference… Well, one more round couldn't hurt," Hopefully? She'll make this her last it seems. "You are very determined, Chief," There's a faint approval and acknowledgement of the Deckie's talent and luck.

Sawyer watches where the chips get raked to and smiles with a little shake of her head. She never stood a chance. At the commander's suggestion, she moves to lean over the cigar box and plucks another from it. "I look forward to it, Commander." She lofts the second cigar to the man in thanks. "Ladies and Gentlemen, it was a pleasure losing to you. Until next time." And with that, the reporter bows out of the rest of the game.

All builds are complete!
Lunair's Triad:
G1 ^ R2 ^^ R3 ^ R3 ^ G3 ^ G3 ^
< SMALL MIXED (GREEN HIGH) - 12 POINTS >

Damon's Triad:
R1 ^ R2 ^^ G2 ^^ R3 ^ R3 ^ G3 ^^^
< LARGE MIXED (RED HIGH) - 33 POINTS >

Damon WINS!!

Damon relases a pent-up breath when his large red wins. "Good game," he says to Sawyer as she stands up. "And you too, sir." He flashes Lunair a toothy grin. "Determination's key, El-Tee," he says knowingly. "My stupid stubbornness makes up for what I lack otherwise. Skill, for example." He lays down his hand, feeling the excitement of a winner on a roll. "Sheer luck helps, though." Ooh, he's starting to sound a little cocky. Pride cometh before a fall?

Kepner has lost all his chips. Those candies he brought to the table belong to…whoever ultimately ends up with more at the end of this. But he lingers at the table, smoking and grinning and chatting with the crew. He was always mainly here for the ambiance. "Fine meeting you, Miss. Lieutenant. Got a bit bruised myself from this. But it's all down to luck. Unless someone is stacking the deck." Another of his own jokes he laughs at.

Lunair waves at Sawyer. "Be well." She murmurs. Then a soft chuckle. "You're very modest," She notes. "I doubt I will leave this without bruises myself." She considers. "I wonder if I used all my luck up," She's not seeming to mind, even a bit amused by Damon and Kepner. She considers her cards and bet carefully though.

All builds are complete!
Damon's Triad:
R2 ^^ R3 ^ G3 ^
< SMALL MIXED (RED HIGH) - 13 POINTS >

Lunair's Triad:
R1 ^ R2 ^^ R2 ^^ R3 ^ G3 ^ B3 ^^^
< LARGE MIXED (RED HIGH) - 33 POINTS >

Lunair WINS!!

Lunair pauses, to consider something. She glances between their banks, before smiling softly, resigned. "Tch. It is cruel to drag a battle out senselessly sometimes. You have played well and it was a very fun game. I'd never played quite this well, so I'm content. You've earned it," She nods, setting her cards down.

Lunair folds.

Damon WINS!!

Damon grins as he reveals his hand. Small mixed triad: another way of saying 'I got nothing'. He's shuffling and about to deal a new hand when Lunair gives him the victory. "Same to you, El-Tee," he says, offering her his hand for a sportsmanlike shake. "Though I still think you could've made a comeback." He sounds a tiny bit disappointed to win without actually winning, but it's probably better off this way. "Good game, Commander." He offers his hand to Kepner as well.

"Better game for the both of you. Enjoy your take, Petty Officer. I've got some ladies on the Areion that are going to miss those chocolates, but it's all in the cause of Fleet solidarity." Kepner smiles. So friendly.

"Perhaps I could have, and then everyone around us would have sprouted cobwebs," Lunair smiles a little, "Sometimes it is wise to consider your audience as well as your opponent." She winks. She carefully accepts his hand, pleased with things on the whole. "I am glad I was invited, this was tremendous fun," She nods. "Thank you both, it was a pleasure. Well, thank you all."

Damon casts a glance back to Yeoman Parry and her table of prizes. Does this mean she provides delivery service for his winnings? "The Deck crew's gonna appreciate them for sure, Commander," he says, returning the smile. "Won in the name of Fleet solidarity, shared in the name of departmental solidarity. Or something like that." Since the game's over, he rises from the table, grinning like a fool. "Aye, likewise," he says to Lunair. Off he goes to Parry's table to figure out how to get his loot to safekeeping.

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