| Everything Will Be Fine |
| Summary: | The S2 and his MP crew swoop on a Raptor SL for some questioning. |
| Date: | 15 Oct 2041 AE |
| Related Logs: | Accidents Happen (Alessandra), Burning Locker of Fire (Sofia), Due Process (Sawyer), & Blanket Party (Constin) |
| Players: |
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| Recovery Room - Deck 10 - Sickbay - Battlestar Cerberus |
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| Post-Holocaust Day: #231 |
| A much more quiet area of Medical, this elongated room is also lined with beds. Each is similarly outfitted with privacy curtains as necessary and even the paint on the walls has been lightened in an attempt to help lift spirits. Chairs are readily available all over the place so that visitors can pull one up to talk to the patients during their recovery. Near the entrance, visiting hours are posted with a very conspicuous 'No Smoking' sign. |
| Condition Level: 3 - All Clear |
Quinn has been stuck here for days now. Her hands quite on their way to being healed but her mind just isn't really settled. She's tried to relax, tried to let it out again, but she just feels cold. Quiet. Not really there. Now she's on her prison of a bed, laying on her left side, staring ahead into the recovery room…
Evandreus hasn't let the added weight of his new set of pins slow him down any, meanwhile. It may well be mum doesn't even know about it, yet, as he's usually in tanks and sweats when he hangs out here, before or after a therapy session or a meeting with the local vampire. He's just getting a prescription refilled, today, and he stops in for a while, of course, wrinkled paper bag in hand, held like a lunch bag by his side, swung in time to a jaunty pace as he heads for mum's bed. "Yo," he greets, dipping in for a smooch.
"Finally," is the mock-diva pronouncement of Trask, as though he has been oh so put-out that Quinn has had the audacity to be sleeping all those other times he came to visit. Evandreus doesn't go unnoticed, so the act goes on a while longer. "Oh. I see how it is. You're actually awake when Bun-Bun comes by. Well, screw you." Apologetically, he looks to Baby, aka Pervy Cow, whom he brought by when he first heard the redhead was laid-up. The plush toy cow stares at him from the bedside with big eyes. "Fergus MacMutton an' I will come back later when we aren't inconveniencing your roommate." Fergus MacMutton being the cutsey, itty-bitty, red tartan sham-wearing, plushie sheep that he's holding.
Quinn blinks slowly up to both of them, trying to bring her brain together, shake out of it. It's still not really working. But she forces herself to smile, since that's what socially acceptable people do, and forces herself to push up onto her elbow, almost sitting though she remains on her side, facing them. "Bunny… Bootstrap… I… I didn't expect to see either of you today… is…everything alright?" She asks, formal and distant. All business still. It's easier that way.
Evandreus wrinkles up his nose in a grimace-cum-snigger when Boots rags on them together. "Everything's fine, Mumsie. The magic s'baypills tell me so," he goes on to joke after his regimen of mood-adjusting meds. "How're your hands feeling?" he goes on, asking after the rest of her, of course, in a kind of euphemistic synecdoche.
"Apart from the standard Apocalyptic pogrom of humanity," yes, he really did say pogrom, "and all the crap that entails: sure." Trask's hands lift, palms up, and he shrugs, his expression that of a 'why the frak not?' smartass variety. "Except," which is a word that never means anything good when he uses it, "not really, see, 'cuz you've decided to go off an' have one of your crazy preggo bouts of preggo craziness." In his frakked-up way, the ECO is sensitive while being insensitive. (1) He's expressed his concern, which both Jugs and Bunny by now know is far greater than any of his flippant displays would suggest; (2) having Quinn annoyed, upset, etc., with him serves to distract her from what's really bothering her; and (3) as long as he keeps on plowing though in his blithe manner, everyone ultimately wins, insofar as anyone can win.
Distantly, Maggie remembers Bunny was hurt. He'd asked her for a bandaid a few days ago and she didn't really catch on. She frowns towards Bunny, looking him over, "How…how are you feeling? Are you still hurt? Sorry, I wasn't really myself, that day, Bunny…" She really must not know that he's been promoted, or she'd be all over him, wouldn't she? Then those muddy green eyes flicker back up in Trask's direction. "If it's pregnant craziness, it'll wear off… Tell them to let me out and everything will be fine."
Evandreus snerks good-natuedly, glancing-eyed with a slanted smile for Boots, "Well, yah, -that-." The world's ended. Old news. A gentle elbow nuzzles warmly at Trask's ribs as all his subtlety is wasted below the sledgehammer of Bootiekins' bluntness. "I'm fine, mum, honest. I was bitten by an angry child. No infection. Just have to watch out if I ever go planetside again. I could turn into an angry child during the full moon."
Everything will be fine? Ha! Ha! Ha! "Yeeeeeeeah," Bootstrap begins, in that 'sorry, you lose, thanks for playing' tone of his, "you honestly believe that, maybe Medical will let you out to see your gingerbread get pinned." Speaking of which, "Bit, huh? That extra weight on your neck throwin' you off, Buns?" And since he's already being sledgehammer blunt, he outright asks, "This, uh, what's her name, with the kids… she knows you're only on-loan, right?" Because the bun in Quinn's oven already has legally-binding dibs on Bunny.
Quinn blinks slightly, "Ginger… bread… get… Pinned?" Maggie really isn't getting that one. She blinks drowsily, trying to shake off more of the distance from her brain and the fog of depression out of her eyes. She pushes herself up into sitting up tiredly. At least it's progress, and her hands are working well enough that she can actually use them to move. The deep wounds are scabbing over, stitches beginning to dissolve. Physically, she really is nearly fine. "Oh…Bunny…I heard…are…. were….Were you promoted?" She asks hopefully, wondering if the whispers she heard are true.
Evandreus doesn't get it either. But it doesn't bother him overmuch, and he plows on ahead, "Oh. Yah," he'll at least admit to the pinnage, when thus pressed. "And no worries, Mama Astra knows I have a little sister on the way. We're already talking play dates for her and the Evans."
The gingerbread joke did not rise to the occasion. (Har.) Ginger :: red-haired as bread :: bun. Trask so isn't going to explain it. "Our li'l Evan is growin' up, Mags," is cheekily gushed, as one hand lifts to ruffle the mop of dark-curls. Which, really, is somewhat funny-looking with how Evan is a good two-inches taller.
Quinn smiles wide and warm, for just a moment. It's a bit of sunshine through utter numbness, but hearing that news about Evan just makes what bit of her is really left wake right up, "Damn… damn… Bunny… that's… amazing… Damn… I'm so proud…" She leans over, reaching one of her bandaged hands up to pull Evan into a tight, warm hug. "Congratulations. Well, well deserved…" She whispers against his cheek.
She then sits straight again, looking back to Trask, exhaling slowly. "I'm serious. Get me out of here. I… I don't know how to fix this. I don't. I don't know how to… shake my brain and wake up… but being here isn't -helping-."
Evandreus makes up for his lanky-limbed height by the way he sort of slouches to the side in a childlike half-cringe from the dread noogies, making the whole tableaux look naturally domestic. Oh, but then he's getting mum hugs, and he sets aside his natural inclination to wave it off, since it seems to be a cheerish subject for the mumsie one. "Thanks, mum," he murmurs, voice warm but a little awkward, stilted in the manner characteristic of one unused to taking compliments. "Are you talking to the shrinks at all? They're really nice." And he should know, by now.
Well, in its dysfunctional way, Trask ruffling Evan's hair, and Evan's resulting childlike side-slouch half-cringe /is/ naturally domestic for this trio.
As Quinn snatches-up the Leontinian in a motherly hug, her request is considered. Laying about, being treated like an invalid really isn't Trask's idea of therapy or promoting recovery. "I'll speak with Cid. See if there's somethin' for you to do until you're cleared for duty." Because there's no frakking way he's letting someone unstable — even if that someone is his BFF — work as the LSO. That can, and likely would, result in injuries or fatalities.
There is No Comment about shrinks. Instead, Kal might be passive-aggressively derailing the conversation with how he walks over to where Pervy Cow is and bobs Fergus MacMutton up and down, as though the two plushie toys are conversing.
Quinn frowns a bit more, "I… am not… good with shrinks. We handled our problems ourselves back home. No head doctors for us. I can get through this. I just needed some time. It's passed now." Stubborn Aerilonian, probably with a good deal more infusion of stubborn in her blood now that she's been back home. Though it's probably also the reason they're not letting her out of here. She breathes out through her nose, looking down to the side of her bed where Trask and the toys play. "Do you need to take someone home for a playdate?" She asks, equally happy to ignore the problem at hand.
| Enlisted Marine Berths - Deck 6 - Battlestar Cerberus |
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| Post-Holocaust Day: #231 |
| Designed specifically to house a small Marine contingent, this berthing is one of the smallest on the ship. The bunks are arranged in standard formation in the classic over-under configuration and lockers dividing each one. However, the lockers here are a bit larger than most elsewhere on the ship to accommodate the bulky combat gear associated with the security details of the crew that lives here. Tables are spread out for use through the area with their standard allotment of chairs. |
| Condition Level: 3 - All Clear |
The entry hatch to the Enlisted Berths is opened, revealing the figure of Corrath and two MP's that seem to be flanking him. Stepping through the now-opened hatch, the S2 takes a quick look around the room before simply pipping out, "Need another MP or Rifleman to accompany me. Bringing some people in for questioning."
By popular vote, it looks like Sergeant Lysander is chosen for the accompaniment. That is, when Corrath and the pair of MPs step into the chamber the marines already settled within look, at first, to the entrance, and then in the marksman's direction upon the statement. Lysander looks around and then opens his locker since he was standing in front of it in the first place. "Questioning? Can do, sir," is offered before he closes the metal door: no use changing out of his duty-clothes. It all leads into his stepping up to the gathered three.
When Lysander pips up and volunteers, Corrath is giving a simple nod of his head to the man, "Thanks, Sergeant. We're bringing some people in for questioning relating to the recent assaults on the Cerberus. Lieutenant Trask's name came up and I've been informed he's visiting in the recovery ward." A turn and the Lieutenant is making his way back out of the hatch and into the hall with the rest of the group, "Should be pretty straight forward, but one never knows. You ever done any questioning of individuals before?"
Lysander gives a stiff nod of his head in reply to the thanks and then offers a more relaxed smile, falling into place with the others as he listens to the quick sit-rep of things. "Ah," he's checking himself over in the process but his attention is still there. "I want to say not exactly, but I have helped in bringing in suspected for questioning during my hay-days against the SSLF. I'll default with a no, to that - sir."
There's a slight quirk of the S2's lips into a smile as he gives a quick nod of his head, "Good enough. This'll be a good session for you, then, Sergeant. Unfortunately, with the lack of new recruits, we'll all be pulling double duty, which means there is going to be times that this will be necessary for you to do." Now, he simply begins to move down the hall, lifting a hand to motion the small group to follow.
| Recovery Room - Deck 10 - Sickbay - Battlestar Cerberus |
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| Post-Holocaust Day: #231 |
| A much more quiet area of Medical, this elongated room is also lined with beds. Each is similarly outfitted with privacy curtains as necessary and even the paint on the walls has been lightened in an attempt to help lift spirits. Chairs are readily available all over the place so that visitors can pull one up to talk to the patients during their recovery. Near the entrance, visiting hours are posted with a very conspicuous 'No Smoking' sign. |
| Condition Level: 3 - All Clear |
If one were to listen closely, they might hear the sudden raised voices outside of the recovery room that seem to object to something being done. Then, the voices suddenly cease and the entryway to the recovery room opens, allowing Corrath to make his way into the room, followed by two MPs and Lysander. Contained within his right hand is a personnel folder, and as he moves into the room, eyes begin to flit left and right as he scans through the beds. Then, he's simply lifting his voice a touch to call out, "Lieutenant Kal Trask."
Out of the frying pan and into the proverbial fire, that's what Sergeant Lysander is doing just this second. He's in tow behind Lieutenant O'Hare and alongside the other pair of MPs, hands clasped neutrally to the front of his waist whilst he watches on. Armed, yes, but the man looks far more intimidating in the group and with a flat expression save for the idle bounce of his gaze from one point of interest to the next.
Playdate? "Nah. I can handle chaperone duuu— what did I tell you about jiggling your udders like that?" Yes, he is chastising the toy cow. Whatever was about to be added is curtailed when Trask notices Stiffy swinging by to yank Evan off for something or another. The smartass comment that prompts also does not launch from his mouth because he is suddenly aware that a group of MPs are asking for him.
"Lieutenant." Brown eyes flick to Lysander, whom, unlike with Corrath, Kal actually recognizes. "Sergeant." Then, might as well round it out with, "Pair of Em-Pees I don't at all know." Honestly not having any idea why he's being sought, his brow furrows as he hypothesizes. MPs /and/ a Rifleman, plus an actual officer carrying some kind of folder… Not standard practice, as far as his experiences go. "I'm surmising you need to speak with me."
Quinn gives Evan a brief wave as he's called off, and she's about to banter wit back, but then the MPs are coming in her and Trask's direction. Meant for Trask, but she doesn't fully know that. She just stares, confused and worried for a few heartbeats. "LT. Sarge… Is… everything alright?" Maggie's now all business, shifting herself into standing next to her bed, right at Trask's side, ready to defend her boy to the death. And yet she's not certain what the defending is about.
Eye's shift in the direction of Quinn, to whom Corrath simply gives a slight nod of his head, "Everything is fine, ma'am." Then, eyes shift back to Trask, regarding the man for a moment before another nod is given. "You are correct, Lieutenant. You're wanted for questioning and will need to accompany .." His hand lifts to motion the two MP's and Lysander, ".. down to the Security Hub."
Lysander shifts his weight from one boot to the other, using the momentum to step better out of the way for the departing air-folk. He inclines his head to the side and looks in their wake before directing his attention forward with a sharp inhale. "Sir," is replied with in turn to Trask by the Sergeant and then he repeats the same for Quinn. There's just a slight smile at the mentioning of the other pair of MPs. It fades with Quinn's question, though, and he looks to Corrath for the answer before focusing on the others of the room and giving a step forward when addressed. Orders are orders.
Questioning. That scratches out a few ideas that crossed his mind. When Lysander and the MPs start to advance, however, Trask's semblance of civility wanes. "Yanno, you could just ask." He'll go, but actually touching him looks as though it would be ill-advised, unless they're aiming to cuff him and read him his rights. "If you intend on takin' a stroll," he quips to the rising Quinn, "why not see about gettin' on the horn to Major Hahn?"
Quinn looks over to both the MPs and then back to Trask, confusion and shock in her pale features. She knows enough not to make a scene, still that professional, at least, but she's worried half-sick. She swallows back tightly, frowning to the trio. "I… I hope everything is alright?" She then looks over towards Trask, and something catches about what he says. She nods curtly, "Be safe, Bootstrap… I… I'll talk to the Major." And with that, the pregnant ex-pilot waddles towards the intercom in the room. Definitely worth reporting to Cidra.
While the MP's do advance, they make no move to physically lay a hand on Trask … at least not yet. Corrath's eyes shift from Trask to Quinn, once more giving the woman a nod. "You may inform Major Hahn that Lieutenant Trask is being brought in for questioning." Then, he's looking back to Trask, his body half turning as a hand lifts to motion towards the hatchway, "Let's go, Lieutenant."
Lysander unlatches his hands from themselves in order to hold palms up toward Trask, not meaning how things are being interpreted. He simply moves to flank the other man and after a pausing step he continues to move forward with hands lowered by then. "I'm sure, well, it's nothing," murmurs the marine offhandedly.
Since the Air Wing El-Tee has no intention of being non-cooperative until provoked otherwise, there should be no reason for anyone to lay a hand on him even once during the entirety of the trip. "If it were nothing," Trask wryly notes to Lysander, "you wouldn't even be here." Still, they're just doing their jobs, and it's not his way to give grief over that. The moment he feels they're doing a poor job of doing their jobs, then the trouble will ensue.
Turning his attention to Lysander and the MP's, then to Trask, Corrath simply gives a nod his head to each before proceeding to make his way back from where he came, moving out of the recovery room, through sickbay and then back out to the hall.
| Dual Stairway - Midship - Battlestar Cerberus |
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| Post-Holocaust Day: #231 |
| This stairway runs up and down the center of the ship. Deck 7 leads to the main forward areas of the ship within the 'Alligator Head'. This is where water tanks are stored and the Combat Information Center is located. Deck 9 leads to the stern area of the ship. The main area of the stern houses the sublight engines and FTL Drives. |
| Condition Level: 3 - All Clear |
Cidra comes up the battlestar stairs at a quick clip. In her flight suit, helmet tucked under her hair. She still looks reasonably fresh, however, so she was likely waiting to go out on patrol rather than returning from one.
Sofia is just sort of here, moving up the stairs towards Engineering. She blinks, seeing people moving at a quick clip. She kind of cranes her neck, blinking.
Corrath and an entourage of marines seem to be leading Trask into the stairwell and then down. For the most part, the S2 doesn't bother saying anything, at least not at this present time. Fingers tap idly against the folder in his hand and every few steps, there's a quick cast of a glance over his shoulder.
Sergeant Lysander is to the rear of the proverbial train, hands kept to his sides and his attention aimed forward and down the path that the other marines and Trask are moving along. His expression is decidedly kept neutral as he walks with idle, sidelong glances to his flanks every once in a while.
Since no one is actually getting all up in his physical space, Bootstrap is being a good boy. Granted, that doesn't prevent him from studying the guard formation, trying to determine if this security detail might actually be for his protection. "Still here, Lieutenant," is drolly smirked. "So, at what point am I supposed to start asking what this is all about an' you tell me nothin' until you think I've sweated enough? 'Cuz I gotta tell ya, I use a strong anti-perspirant, and I have the next CAP shift."
Cidra inclines her head to Sofia as she heads up the stairs, but it is the Marines - and Trask - who attract her attention. She zeroes directly in on them. "Lieutenant. Sergeant." The greetings are polite, if clipped. "What in the worlds is going on? I am told there is some sort of… matter?" A sidelong look at Trask. It's more a puzzled 'What the frak is going on?' than anything else.
Looking as if he's going to reply to Trask, Corrath never gets the chance, for when Cidra's voice sounds, he's turning to the fore so that his eyes can focus on her. Then, he's drawing himself to attention and snapping off a salute before offering, "Lieutenant Trask is being brought in for questioning relating to an ongoing investigation, sir."
Sofia's mouth opens and closes. "And I was looking for -" She was looking for Trask, but seems to have taken that idea and thrown it away like a pair of moldy pants. She just nods meekly and moves aside.
Lysander adores his rank right about now. It means he doesn't have to open his mouth and can simply give a look over his shoulder before looking down and to the commotion up ahead, make a presence known physically rather than verbally. "Sir," is mentioned by the marine though, to the Major, and a stiff smile too before he switches looking from Cidra to Corrath, and between the two. Sofia's taken into account with things and then he relaxes in where he's stopped walking.
Cidra's already here? That was quick. Trask can't help but be a bit amused. "Someone spooled-up the FTL and plotted one helluva jump." Even so, it's good to know the CAG's in his corner. In response to the look he's given, there is a rather glib, "For once, I have no frakkin' idea what I may or may not have done to piss off someone to this extent." Facetious, perhaps, but that doesn't make it any less true. There is no indication that Sofia is seen. Granted, the ECO is literally surrounded.
Cidra offers Sofia a very puzzled shrug. The CAG knows not just yet. "Ongoing investigation?" The question is rather dead-panned. She asks no more questions than that right here but does add, "Well. I shall accompany you. We can speak of this more privately."
"Correct Major, ongoing investigation," is what Corrath offers in reply to the question. Then, he's giving a nod of his head as he takes a couple of steps down the stairs, "By all means, Major. You're welcome to sit in during the actual questioning, if you so desire." A quick look over his shoulder and he's giving a nod to the MP's and Lysander, indicating that they should move on ahead.
"I will desire, yes," Cidra says flatly. She will go with them.
Sofia mmphs softly. A polite smile at Cidra and a meek nod. "Good luck." She offers quietly to them and stays out of the way.
For the time being, Trask is along for the ride. To his credit, he doesn't start asking 'are we there yet?' over and over and over. Instead, he points out, "If this is gonna be a while, I'll need to adjust the CAP rotation and alert my people of who's goin' out in Major Hahn's and my stead."
The Sergeant of the bunch gives a low whistle around the time that 'desire' is heard and bandied about but with the look that O'Hare is giving to him and the other two MPs he tips his chin into a stiff nod in reply and moves back into play. And still it's easiest to let Corrath handle the talking but Lysander does give a brief smile to Sofia in passing.
To Cidra, Corrath gives a quick nod before shifting his attention over to Trask. "Once we reach the Security Hub, Lieutenant, you'll be welcome to make any necessary arrangements that are needed. Though, if all goes well, we will not require too much of your time." Now, he simply begins to make his way down the stairs, obviously intending to continue down to Marine Country.
| Security Hub - Deck 6 - Battlestar Cerberus |
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| Post-Holocaust Day: #231 |
| More than just an office for the Marines and their XO, this room has remote surveillance views of the Brigs as well as a state of the art communications center built into the far bulkhead. A locked and heavily armored door to the aft leads into another room, the white lettering on it reading 'ARMORY.' There are a few desks scattered around the room for getting necessary paperwork done and the Commandant's picture hangs on the wall next to one of the President. |
| Condition Level: 3 - All Clear |
Cidra follows the Marines and Trask to the Security Hub. Still holding her helmet. Posture very straight at the moment. She remains rather confused.
If Corrath was just feeding him a line about being able to make any necessary arrangements as soon as they arrived at the SecHub, Bootstrap's gonna spit it out and make the CMC eat those words. Without fanfare or ado, he makes his way to the nearest com, telling whomever is posted nearby, "I'm entitled to a phone call."
Entering into the Security Hub behind the rest, Corrath shifts his attention over to the duty MPs and giving them a simple nod of his head in response to Trask's statement. Then, he's turning his attention over to Cidra, "I apologize, Major. If you'd like to step into the office, I'd be happy to quickly explain what's going on, before we begin." There is a quick movement of his attention towards Lysander, "Sergeant, once the Lieutenant has made his arrangements, can you show him to the interrogation room and ensure that he gets a cup of coffee, or something?"
How to Interrogate a Suspect 101, it runs through the back of Sergeant Lysander's mind as he walks with the others and soon enough they are amongst Marine Country and he, for the most part, relaxes his regimented posture. Self-consciously, he reaches to his right arm, just above the elbow, where 'MP' has been plastered onto him thanks to the black brassard. "Of course, sir," starts the marine and he drops his hand. He steps up to flank Trask, idly waiting for the call to finish.
Giving the MPs an 'uh-huh' sort of look, aforementioned Lieutenant picks up the horn and gets to work.
[Intercom] Trask says, "Now hear this: JiGs Mara Smythe and Daisy McCoy, report for last-minute CAP rotation stand-by. JiGs Mara Smythe and Daisy McCoy, report for last-minute CAP rotation stand-by. Pass the word!"
That done, the Harriers' SL hangs-up and notes, "Unless it's from the Deck, I'll pass. What you Marines drink… I have no idea what that is." Not coffee by his estimation, anyway.
"I would like this explained to me very much, Lieutenant, yes," Cidra says to Corrath. Tone still very level. A less level, "Thank you, Boots," is offered to Trask. "I do hope we can get this settled shortly."
| Interrogation Room - Security Hub - Battlestar Cerberus |
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| Post-Holocaust Day: #231 |
| This area is devoid of anything but a table, two chairs and a camera up in the corner. The table is bolted to the floor and there are also hooks in the floor to lock chains to the deck, if the person has been placed in custody and is considered dangerous to the crew. |
| Condition Level: 3 - All Clear |
To the interrogation room, that's where Lysander leads Trask once the message has been sent down the pipeline. He gives a look over his shoulder to the rest of the security hub before temporarily closing the entrance behind him. There's a general gesture given to the rest of the room. "Coffee, water, juices, a couple of alcohols, moonshines if you're cheap enough - I'm fairly certain we're human, possibly, but you can take a seat there either way." He eases it all out with a shrug of his shoulders.
After the cheeky, coquettish dip of his head, batting of his lashes, and finger wave for the camera, the SL glances around. "Last time I was in a room like this was to lay down some new wire." Anyone who's read his personnel file would be aware that the first six years of Trask's military career were spent as a snipe in the electrical division. When alcohol is mentioned, there simply is a look shot at Lysander, as if the notion that what was just said is causing some manner of cognitive Disk Error. "Thanks, but I'm high-maintenance," is the sardonically quipped twisting of what was meant. Someone, evidently, has no interest in getting his drink on. "Not sure what bein' human has to do with any of this, but I'll entertain your premise." That said, he sits.
Lysander gives a shrug of his shoulders, "Got somethin' to do with the assaults on folks, or so I figure, Cylons, humans, etcetera," but the marine leaves it at that. A short smile is offered and he moves to stand at the side of the entrance rather than seat himself. It's what an MP does and such.
The info is processed. "So, either I'm a suspect," said somewhat derisively because, in his mind, such an allegation is beyond idiotic, "or one of my people is." Which is a notion that does not at all please him. "Lysander, innit?" Doesn't matter. He keeps going. "Let's just dispense with the bullshit 'cuz, as good as my recalled JiGs are, I'm the one slated to be on that next CAP, and I'd rather they be enjoying their allotted downtime instead of having to shift shifts. So, lay it on me." Slouching a little in the chair, legs splayed. "Either spit it out or get in here whoever the frak is gonna handle this questioning. Just don't waste my time." Bootstrap is ever one to call a spade a spade.
Lysander gives a nod of his head when it comes to his name and he turns back towards the other man, lifting a brow questioningly. As the words begin to filter out his expression flattens just before he rolls out a shrug. "Would if I could, sir, but it's a slight above my pay-grade," he lifts his right hand high enough to rest it level over his head, measuring off, and then drops it with a more focused shrug. "Can always get the others in here for you though," is offered as well.
"Higher-ups tend to like wasting time. They really love to get their underlings involved. I'm fortunate that Major Hahn is an anomaly." And since Lysander more or less responded how Trask anticipated, he doesn't press the matter. True to form, though, he still calls bullshit. "Nah. Don't sweat it. One person who can't or won't actually do something productive is more than enough. I'm sure there are plenty of places that could stand some of that inanity. I'm not inclined to monopolize." That said, the SL slumps further, trying to get as comfortable as he can in an uncomfortable chair. "Right. Wake me up when this is actually going somewhere." More or less settled, with arms folded and hands tucked into the pits, he closes his eyes.
Having completed his conversation with Cidra, the doorway to the interrogation room is opened to allow the Major entry into the room, to which Corrath immediately follows, only to close the door behind him. "Lieutenant, I apologize for the delay, so let's get started." That said, he's moving around the table, opposite Trask, before setting the folder on the table. "First and foremost, I want to let you know that even though this is a simple questioning session, you're welcome to request the presence of a JAG. Would you like us to summon one for you?" Slipping into the seat, the folder is opened and a pen is removed from within.
Cidra follows Corrath into the interrogation room. Posture still straight, features rather inscrutable. As they tend to be. Though she does offer Trask a small, encouraging nod. "I am told you are not being charged with anything, Boots. So I trust this…matter can be dispensed with in short order. This has to do with an ongoing investigation they are gathering information on, which I trust the Lieutenant shall explain further." Still, she does not object to the offer to get a JAG in the room.
Pragmatic man that he is, Kal considers Corrath's offer. "Might as well. We can start, in the meanwhile." He has nothing to hide, including his reasons for any seeming irritation at being detained. Eyes open but he doesn't yet stir, as if he's considering how long he'll be here and whether or not it's worth moving when he's as comfortable as he possibly can be in this room. "So," he prompts, "wha'd'ya need to know?"
Offering a faint 'Hmm', Corrath gives a slight nod of his head and pulls the folder in closer to him and then tilting it slightly so he can jot something down before looking over in the direction of the other Marine in the room. "Notify JAG that Lieutenant Trask has requested their presence, but has give permission to continue." Looking back to the pilot now, the S2 simply watches the man for a moment before beginning to speak again, "Lieutenant, we're currently conducting an investigation into the assaults and threats of assaults against supposed 'Cylon Sympathizers'. Do you happen to know what I'm referring to?"
Cidra chooses to stand rather than sit, leaning against the wall behind Trask. Perhaps a sign she does not intend to linger in the Interrogation room overlong. She's silent for now, eyes focused on Corrath rather than Trask.
"I surmise you're referring to scuttlebutt. The shit with Sophronia — frak, if ever I find out who the frak left that urnine…" That stuff stinks, yo. "I heard Averies got roughed-up, but she seemed a'right at the Emporium." Which would be the initial salvage operation that transpired 5 days later. "Fire in the enlisted berthings, or so Specialist Eames in Engineering told me. A snipe named Wolfe was targeted. Oh, and someone managed to beat the ever-lovin' shit outta your Sergeant Constin." That actually causes a bit of a smirk to flicker at the corner of Trask's mouth, "Although he got some payback, as Major Hahn can attest." Never mind that the timeline of those two events are reversed in his memory. None of it directly concerned him or his people, and it's not as though he has a shortage of responsibilities to keep his mind more than occupied. "More than that, I haven't heard."
A couple more notes are taken as Corrath gives a slight nod of his head, "Right. Right." A brief look down to the paper and then back up again. "Noticed anything out of the ordinary, lately, Lieutenant? Someone acting a little more funny then they normally do? Something that doesn't seem quite right, but you've just overlooked it until now?"
Cidra still has no comment. Just merely watches. The CAG is always watching. A slight tightening of her jaw at mention of the assaults on Sophronia, Averies and Wolfe. But, no comment.
"I'm not sure an increase in general stupidity is anything out of the ordinary, unfortunately." Trask isn't known to hold a high opinion of most people. "Then you have increases in crazy that probably are normal considering an Apocalyptic pogrom of our species. Beyond that, though?" Musingly, his head cants and he gazes into the distance, brow faintly furrowing as he gives the query further consideration.
"Hey, Toast," he asks, quasi-swiveling to peer at her over his shoulder, "When did Averies start sleepin' elsewhere?" For the sake of thoroughness, the LT looks back to the other LT and explains, "Averies has a designated bunk above what had been Captain Sitka's. A while ago, she stopped sleepin' in there. I saw her last week in the laundry. She looked pretty crap. I told her she had a bed and should consider usin' it. She still keeps a locker with the Wing, so I'm guessin' she's been sleepin' in the news room."
As for the other bit of weirdness, Bootstrap relays, "Only other thing that pings as 'what the frak?' is the rumor that Spiral — Lieutenant Pallas Ellinon — quit drinkin'. Somethin' 'bout Shiv ordering 'im. The 'what the frak' part being that Spiral actually seemed to have complied." Yeah, that seriously is a 'wtf?' for the SL.
More notes are taken by Corrath, though what he's actually writing could be anyone's guess. "Why would you find that unusual, Lieutenant? Lots of people have quit drinking. More have picked it up, too. Change for the better, perhaps?" The folder is half closed, pen moving to rest on the table for now. A half-glance is taken to Cidra before he looks back to Trask, "Also, Lieutenant, what's your take on the whole 'Cylon Sympathizer' aspect of things? You condone what's being done?"
"I do not believe she ever formally removed herself from the berthings," Cidra replies to Trask's question about Sawyer. "The bunk is, indeed, still hers for the using. But she has been sleeping in the newsroom for quite some time. She began spending more time there, I do think, after her article about the Mol-Gen matter on Leonis came out." The one that suggested human anti-Cylon experiments might've triggered the Cylon aggression. That little matter. Cidra's own tone is carefully, even more carefully than usual, neutral on the subject.
As for Pallas. "Lieutenant Ellinon was quite… attached to alcohol. Though he did not drink on duty." She is firm on that point. "I am rather surprised as well that it took only an order from Ibrahim to make him - apparently - stop." The apparently is tacked on with equal care.
In a blithely biting tone, Trask remarks, "Pallas Ellinon is likely the biggest drunk in the entire fleet." Nothing careful about that. "That kind of demon isn't so easily banished. It's a sickness of the soul." Sharp and hard becomes his manner, but his history with abuse caused by alcohol abuse is an extremely harsh one, and his contempt for drunks — especially ill-tempered and violent ones — isn't something he could ever conceal, even if he's never revealed the reason for such enmity. Even so, he's not making allegations as far as suspects go. He's merely expressing something he finds exceedingly abnormal.
As for the rest, the ECO simply asks, "Which part? That some people are sympathizing with 'em, or that some other people are displaying some of the worst traits of humanity by 'disagreeing' in such a thuggish manner?" Dry as dust, that.
FADE