| Feathers Up Your Butt |
| Summary: | Sawyer and Stavrian run across the Fleet's newest Ensign, Alexander. |
| Date: | 20 Feb 2041 AE |
| Related Logs: | Meeting the XO |
| Players: |
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[ Laundry Room ]----[ Deck 3 - Battlestar Cerberus ]—
Industrial washers and dryers line each side of this elongated room, which typically has personnel moving in and out all day and night. These front-loading systems are designed to withstand the rigors of a military beating and still function as expected. A sturdy set of counters run the length of the room for crewmembers to fold their own laundry and dress and pins or patches before and after the process.
-=[ Condition Level: 3 - All Clear ]=------—-
Alexander Aurelia is currently waiting on his clothes which are currently in the washing machine. He is currently sitting on top of an unused machine which is facing the washer he is currently using. In his hand is a book on Fleet Regulations and another book beside him regarding the Air Wing as it would appear that he is reading manuals. Though the oddest thing is that he is in off duty Fleet clothing at the moment and the laundry he is doing is a mixture of blues, blacks, greys, and greens.
Weekly laundry again. In his olive-and-red camo pants and a longsleeved gray T-shirt, Stavrian's got his laundry bag along for the ride on his back, the knotted string yanked over his shoulder. Book to attempt to read, there's a set of black wires draped around his neck with small earbuds at the ends, the bottom wire connected to something in his pants pocket.
Ummph. It's early. At least early for Sawyer who doesn't have to deal with pesky things like duty rotations to deal with. No doubt she had a late night, and is now paying for it in the form of the zombie shuffle. She makes her way into the laundry room, not toting a gread deal of laundry. Rather, the woman has a suit on a hanger slung over her shoulder, and a can of spray starch in her hand. As if that wasn't enough to set her apart from the daily grind of military life, she's wearing pink plaid pajama bottoms and a pale pink tshirt with flipflops on her feet.
Alexander looks over at Sawyer as she enters and he spots the pink plaid pajama bottoms and the pale pink t-shirt and then he notices the flip flops and a smile spreads across his face, "Well, if it isn't our own Reporter. I heard you got embedded in with the Vipers." He looks over at Stavarian for a moment and he smiles as he studies the man and then he turns back to Sawyer, "Though it doesn't look like you have been given to much of a hard time yet by the Viper pilots." He looks back at Stavrian, "Forgive me, I don't think we've met, my name is Ensign Alexander Aurelia." Did he just say Ensign?
Stavrian puts his book down on a nearby washer, plopping the mesh bag down beside it. Same washer he used last time. Military's a habit-forming machine. He glances at Sawyer over his shoulder, and then Alexander - and that's where his blue eyes stay. There's nothing but a tense silence, and if someone had been holding a thermometer right next to him? They might've recorded the temperature dropping about twenty degrees.
Sawyer continues her shuffle towards an ironing board in the corner, juggling her possessions in order to fold the thing down from the wall and lay her suit out over the top of it. "Good morning…" A yawn sort of cuts off the last word, and she stifles it with the back of a hand once it's free of its burden. "Mm. Everyone gets up so /early/." She remarks off-handedly while trying to blink herself more awake. Surely Alexander didn't just say he had rank. Leaning over the ironing board, she rests on her elbows and looks between Frosty Stavrian and the colony-wide known actor. "I think I've missed something here."
As Stavrian gets icy and Sawyer blinks Alexander responds, "I decided to join the Fleet instead of researching why not acctually do it, you know? So, currently I am working with the LSO and I hope to get into Flight School or ECO training soon." The words that come out of his mouth seem serious enough and the off duty clothng on his back looks real enough. "I know this must seem to be a shock but I thought it would be the best way to understand what it means to serve the Fleet. I am what is referred to as a nugget."
Was that twenty degrees around Stavrian? No, it's slid to subzero by the time the actor's finished talking. You could walk across the ice in those blue eyes. "Do you think we're stupid, Mr. Aurelia?" By his tone, he expects the actor's answer to be 'yes'. "I hate to inform you, but boot camp and OCS - you know, those required pieces of business - are a little longer than the three days since the last time I saw you, wandering around in cowboy boots."
Sawyer tilts her head just a few degrees as she studies Alexander, "I see you've found your new role." She straightens up and starts unhooking her suit from the hangar to lay the pants out on the board. "You'll have to forgive Alexander, mister…?" She lets that drag out so that Stavrian can fill in the blank should he so choose. "He doesn't mean it as an insult. He's a method actor, and he likes to get fully enveloped in his role. He's obviously obtained some sort of permissions from command, otherwise he's gotten very clever at stealing an entire wardrobe of military attire." This is all said without lifting her eyes, to keep the conversation nonconfrontational. For all intents and purposes, she's just here to iron her day's outfit.
As Stavrian speaks Alexander looks at the superior Officer and he says, "Before I came here I took an abrivated version of Officer Training and I promise you my paperwork is in order. Everything will check out, sir." The Caprican Ensign says by way of explanation and then when Sawyer speaks the Caprican's head nods, "Exactly, thank you." He looks back at Stavrian, "I did not mean any insult at all. I learn how to play a roll by doing something and this is the ultimate way to do something." Alexander offers as he notices how cold Stavrian is toward him, an attitude that he has gotten a lot of from different crew members. Alexander seems to be taking it in stride however since he plans on proving himself despite others wishes for him to fail.
"Cut the shit. You didn't go to boot, you didn't go to OCS in three days, abbreviated or not. And you took no oath to support and defend." Stavrian replies, in the same low, freezing tone. "And the Air Wing doesn't take Ensigns /before/ they've finished Flight School." His eyes turn away, looking at Sawyer now. "Stavrian, and my apologies, Ma'am. The men and women I serve with didn't do things the cheap way and then tell lies about it. They're good people whose lives are on the line for the Colonies." His eyes cut back to Alexander for a moment. "And I hate to see such a mockery made of them." He turns his head, opening his washing machine with a tense movement.
Sawyer shakes her can of spray starch then applies a liberal dose to the leg of the pants laid out on the board. Taking the iron down from it's hook, "Don't apologize to me, Mister Stavrian. You haven't offended my delicate sensibilities. But just like Mister Aurelia…sorry. Ensign Aurelia here. We're all on board for a reason. It's your prerogative whether or not you agree with that reason. I just ask if you two take it to the mats that you let me watch." She flashes a bit of a smile, though it's still sleepy around the edges.
Alexander turns and looks at Stavrian, "Which boot would that be? I've done army boot in the past. I told you I went to an abbriviated version of OCS before I came here. While I can understand your concerns I am for all purposes a member of this crew and I have the paperwork needed to back up what I am telling you. I know I will need to do some on the job training and I plan on doing that before I go to Flight School or to get ECO training. I'm sorry you don't approve of my being in the Fleet but I am here and I am currently an Ensign in the Fleet, even if you think of me as one in the loosest of terms." His words are calm, understanding of the way Stavrian feels, "I'm sure that I look like a pretender coming in to the company of good people but I am here to serve." Alexander looks back at Sawyer, "I hope we don't need to take this to the mats. I mean that would be a bit barbaric wouldn't it?"
"No, until you take that oath, you are a civilian who just thinks it's dress-up day in kindergarden. Sticking feathers up your butt does not make you a chicken, Mr. Aurelia." Stavrian's laundry goes into the machine wholesale, and the lid's clunked shut. His attention goes back to Alexander, not warming a single degree. "If you want to take your corner-cutting ass down to the Marines and let them put you through the right paces, and swear yourself in to real service, maybe I'll see about affording you half the respect I do to the real pilots that risk their lives." Washer turned on, he looks back at Sawyer. "The marines'll take care of that. Unless, of course, he refuses."
Sawyer merely gives Stavrian a rather little nod, her attention now on her ironing as the hot metal plate smoothes out the tiny wrinkles in her suit that were the result of packing it in a rather stuffed suitcase. She falls quiet, becoming the casual observer in this little confrontation. No doubt, however, she's paying rapt attention. Nosy little devil.
As Alexander continues to catch fire from Stavrian he holds his own as he doesn't even look remotely like he is about to show any emotiton other than a dedication to his job at the moment. Alexander does offer, "I'm sorry you feel that way Lieutenant, but, the fact of the matter is I have been cleared for duty and I have been assigned by the CAG into work. I have my orders and everything has been signed. If you are disappointed in me or if you think I am less than an Officer than you are certainly welcome to your opinion but I am here to do a job and to become the best officer in the Fleet that I can."
Stavrian doesn't seem to give a yonk that the reporter's there and listening. Leave it to a Sagittarian to be blunt, and that definitely is a Sagittarian accent wrapped around his pronunciation. As Alexander ducks the offer he smirks. "Yeah. Sure you are. Cause the critics'll love it, right?" He clicks his teeth at Alexander and rolls his shoulders, picking up his book.
Sawyer makes quick work of smoothing out the creases in her attire, soon setting the iron back into the crook of its holder with a little sizzle of heat. She gives the garment a once over, and deems it satisfactory, starting to hook it back on the hangar so she can go get properly dressed. With the can of spray starch tucked under her arm, she lifts the folding board back and latches it properly. Slinging the hangar over her shoulder, she starts towards the exit. Now, is not the time to needle her way into Alexander's psyche nor probe Stavrian for any potential leads. Eventually, if she decides to pursue either of them, it'll be divide and conquer. "Gentleman." She says with a hint of a smile as she breezes back out the hatch, now much more awake that her head is buzzing with the conflict.
Alexander flips his laundry and as soon as it gets in the dryer there is a moment where the Caprican looks over at Stavrian. "Well, it is a good thing I don't do what I do for the critics then, hm? If I did I would be a sad man that would never be happy." He isn't being confrontational by any means as his tone is kind, "I've put up with criticism my entire life and like I said you don't have to like me but I am here to do my job." The man looks at Sawyer, "Talk to you soon. I'd like to catch up some time." He looks back at his clothes, "Anyway, I need to go get some other things done. I'll get my laundry later. Take care, Lieutenant." With that the Caprican is gone.