PHD #018: Forge Ahead
Forge Ahead
Summary: Atreus asks to see Stavrian about a matter, which turns into more matters. And some mutual respect.
Date: Mar 16 2041
Related Logs: Related Logs (Say None if there aren't any; don't leave blank)
Atreus Stavrian 
Chief's Office - Hangar Deck - Battlestar Cerberus
Post Holocaust Day: #18
The room is fairly small, to maximize the area of the deck itself. It contains a smallish metal desk with locking drawers, a computer terminal, a file cabinet against one wall and metal shelves filled with tools, spare parts, and manuals. There are two chairs facing the desk, clearly scavenged from somewhere else. One area of the shelving, nearest the desk, has been cleared and is clean. This holds a coffee maker that constantly seems to have some brew or other in it. Above the chair behind the desk, in a position of prominence, a framed picture has been hung. It is an embroidered image depicting Hephaestus with his two metal helpers. The work is beautiful and almost lovingly detailed. The god is laughing, one eye bright where a patch covers the other. He is held aloft by his helpers, one done in glittering gold, the other in silver.
Condition Level: 3 - All Clear

Note: We lost the first five poses of this scene, so these poses start in media res. Atreus called Stavrian to his office and asked him to go with Deck next time there's a salvage. Stavrian recommended Atreus look into bringing a Marine as well, considering past incidents.

At last the tea is vertical, so Atreus takes the bag out, squeezing it to get the last of the tea out. He wraps the little string about the bag and tosses the lot into the trash. Lifting the mug, he takes a slow sip and sighs, "So. Is there anything we can do to help you? I know that things have been a mess today. Everywhere."

"Pray to the gods to keep your people safe," Stavrian replies, not glib in the least. His arms rest on the edge of Atreus' desk and his hands wrap around his tea cup, letting it warm his palms. "Other than that, I appreciate it but I don't think so. Not directly." He tilts his head. "I did want to ask you though…how are your people doing with the civilians in starboard? I see the place on rounds, but my head's down in medical worries."

Atreus lowers his head briefly, his smile warm. "Constantly. For all of us, really." He turns the mug twice in his hands, interest clear in his eyes. "Hmm. Good question. For the most part, they do not bother us. I think that they are still a bit shell shocked. We sort of circulate through when we can. Just to see if they need anything and to let them know that we are all still here, still aware of them. I think they are more bothered by us, to tell the truth. The most consistent thing we hear is pleas to 'keep the noise level down'. I can't really blame them, though. Especially lately."

Stavrian nods slowly. "I wish we could soundproof it for them, somehow. If just making the marines walk around with pillows strapped to their boots. Not being able to get enough rest is one of the worst things a man can endure at a time like this." He lifts his tea and blows on it, gently. "Listen, Chief…" His soft voice starts again, after a moment. "Could I ask you a little bit of a favor?"

Atreus chuckles just a little, "Yeah, that would be better. Or go barefoot. But, I can't really see either happening." He lifts his mug, eyes still slightly crinkled at the edges, amusement evident. The mug pauses just before he takes a sip, eyes focusing on you over the rim of the mug. Without taking a sip, he lowers it and nods, "Sure. What's on your mind, Lieutenant?"

"There's a civilian. Daniel Petroski. He's…was…part of QUODEL." Stavrian sips from his tea and sets it down again, keeping his fingers wrapped around the cup. His blue eyes focus on the older man's face, the Sagittarian's chin tilted down very slightly. It's a subtle measure of respect, around the constraints of their ranks. "He's been concerned for the people in that bay. I've been teaching him about shelters and crisis needs, and he'll be a good liaison if he can ever learn how to deal with command right. He's a good man. I'd like to introduce you, with your permission. He wants to help, he just needs…guidance."

If Atreus was surprised by the opening statement, it only grows as the Lieutenant continues speaking. Lifting a hand, he sort of lightly scratches the opposite cheek, then hmms softly. Lifting the mug, he finally takes the sip that has been pending for a while. When he lowers the mug, the Chief is nodding just a bit, "I'd love to meet him, Lieutenant though I'm not sure what I can do to help." His smile quirks just a bit, "Other than be an opinionated cuss who enjoys nattering on about what needs to be done. But, if I can help, I'm glad to."

"He's curious," Stavrian shrugs one shoulder. "He doesn't know what goes on up there, nobody down there does. But it's going to have to be a more open channel eventually, and I want someone prepared to step up and handle it. So does he; he's just a little naive right now. An opinionated cuss he can natter with would help a lot. Show him we can be honest people, and that we're not on opposite sides of the fence when it comes to how to treat human beings."

Atreus says, "Curious in what way? Questioning or peculiar?" Though he asks the question, there is a measure of amusement in his tone, "I can deal with either… Or both, for that matter." As you continue, he leans back in his chair and crosses one ankle up onto the opposite knee. "You are both right. If we are going to survive together we need to learn to communicate." His gaze slips away for a moment, then returns, "It is a dangerous time to be naive." Then, a faint blush touches the man's cheeks and he inclines his head a bit, "Thanks, Lieutenant. I'll try not to disappoint. Though if he's talking to you, I'd say he's got a good role model.""

"Oh. Questioning. I meant." Stavrian actually looks slightly embarrassed as he realizes his own phrasing. The JG has a heavy accent, not just colonial but shreds of some kind of dialect that might be more natural to him than Standard is. He sips his tea and, in a moment of pensive thought, keeps his mouth at the rim and blows little bubbles into the hot liquid. Then, awkwardly: "Thank you. But. You know, village to raise a child and everything. Anyway, I will see when I can find the two of you. Just off-duty, you know."

Atreus chuckles, though it is low, "I'm a geek, Lieutenant. A mechanic. We're thought of as peculiar on every colony. Or… Were." The light fades, then the thought is pushed aside. Tilting his head a bit, he nods, "Yeah. I know. I'll look forward to it, Lieutenant. Call whenever's convenient for you both. The nice thing about being Chief is that I can go whenever I like." Course the downside is that off-duty is when it happens.

"I don't think it's so peculiar," Stavrian's eyes flick up to the picture of Hephaestus, then back to the Chief. "We need people like you. People like me break stairs just walking on them." His lips twitch, though one would be hard-pressed to call that a 'smile', then he nods. "Alright, I will check with him and I will ring you." Picking up his tea, he finishes off the warm drink in two more swallows. "If there is anything more I can do…your men or something else…just let me know."

Atreus lifts a brow slightly, his smile warming, "Thanks. I don't either, as it happens." Turning, he looks up at Hephaestus, then hanging still the brightest thing in the room. Looking back, he nods, "Thanks. We need people like you too, Lieutenant." Rising, he leaves his tea where it is, though it is certain that he will return to it, "Actually, there is, though there is no onus on it if you don't care to."

Stavrian stands up, tossing the paper cup in the nearest bin he can spot. He gently rubs his hands together, lifting his chin. "What's that, Chief?"

Atreus pauses, then moves to the hatch to his office, "Two things, actually." Pulling it open, he leans on one side of the opening, crossing his arms one over the other. His chin lifts, "I'm going to be using paintball to teach my people how to shoot. It isn't the same as using an honest firearm, but pull some of their skills out of their boots." Then, he looks over to you, "These people mean everything to me, Lt. I'd like you to hold first aide classes, if you can find the time. I'll make 'em mandatory…" Inhaling, he releases it slowly, "So, that's the first thing. The second?" One corner of his lips lift into a lopsided smile, "If it's off-duty, wouldja call me Constantine or Atreus?"

Paintball? Stavrian's blue eyes blink slowly, and he almost chuckles. "You know Corporal Maragos is holding a MOUT, open to non-coms? You might want to submit your people, once they've had a few turns at that paintball." He reaches up, rubbing the back of his neck. "I will certainly talk to Diego about some classes. I doubt she could find that a bad idea. I certainly don't." And as for the last, he gives Atreus a curious look but there's no recoil. "Ah, sure. And…" He makes a gesture make at himself, as though to extend obvious courtesy the other way. "Jesse. Stavrian. Whichever."

Atreus nods, "Yeah. He is. I'll be sending folks through, depending on how they do at paintball. Don't want them to feel discouraged going up with Marines. Or, other departments with more experience." His gaze turns again to the area outside the door. Looking back, he catches the curious look, "What…?" He nods, "Thanks. I won't abuse the privilege, Lt. Promise."

"Privilege." Stavrian repeats the word as though he found it a little amusing, corner of his mouth twitching again. "It's not a privilege. It's just my name." He rolls his shoulders, catching a glance at his watch. "Well, I should go. But I will be in touch very shortly."

Atreus steps back a bit to let you out easily, "Yeah, it's your name, LT. But, it's use? That's a privilege." Or so he sees it, "Especially in the military where surnames and ranks are common." Standing by the bookshelf, for the office is pretty small, he suppresses the urge to look at his wrist where no watch has lived in ages, "See you soon, then. And thanks again."

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