| Gullible |
| Summary: | Cora encounters Lysander in the halls of marine country, and is inspired to give him a job relating to the interrogation of the skinjob prisoner. |
| Date: | 23 November 2041 AE |
| Related Logs: | Enter C-27 |
| Players: |
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| Deck 6 - Marine Country |
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| It is a corridor. It is full of marines. |
| Post-Holocaust Day: #270 |
Tauron this, Tauron that, it's all blending into a conglomeration of (even more) confusion; or, in Sergeant Lysander's case, all he gets to hear is generalized scuttlebutt and most of his questions regarding anything, everything, and whatnot in-between those two points go left unanswered. He's recently returned from the armory this time of day and carries a rolled up notebook in his left hand, using the right to rub over the back of his neck as he watches some of the members of his squad wander off to their off-duty hours. The last departs and here he is, lingering, thinking over a thing or two while standing amongst the middle of marine country.
Cora is not precisely a stranger in marine country, as her work brings her now and again to the security hub and the offices there, but she does stand out in her dress blues amongst all that marine brown. She moves against the tide as she exits the stairwell to head up the corridor, finally exiting it as she clears the berths and the crowd milling to and from it. Shortly thereafter she encounters Lysander, lingering as he is, and her steps slow as she attempts to figure out what he is doing. "Do you have an appointment?" she inquires as she nears.
Lysander doesn't readily notice Cora's entrance and approach. His attention is held more or less down and cast to the notebook in his hand, bringing it into both. The words shot out in his direction though, well, they're more than good enough reason to have him glance up and then move the notebook into his right hand as he replies in turn. "Ah," is initially breathed before he actually finds words, "Sir," in greeting, "Um - no, I don't, no. I'm just walking really slowly to the berths." He pauses with a short beat and uses it to shift his weight from one boot to the other, squaring his shoulders and looking more formal in the process. He's still in his black battle dress at least. The pause really is short, with him countering, "You?"
"Ah," Cora replies with a nod, and a glance from the marine to the berths before she agrees, "Walking very slowly indeed." There is a hint of a brief smirk before she asks, "For any particular reason?" She carries a notebook as well, a black one, tucked under one arm, and she shifts to hold it in front of her as she shakes her head. "Not an appointment precisely, no. I've come to get a look at the prisoner, though I believe I will wait another day or two before speaking with her."
Lysander goes to mime the words, very slowly, but he just ends up glancing in the general direction of the berths as well before cracking his lifeless expression into something more along the usual, warm, with the beginnings of a grinning half-smile. "Just distracted by some thinking, Cora," he's dropped the pretense of being formal and then eases the breadth of his shoulders into a low, relaxed shrug. "That's not any creepy these days - just staring at folk?" He takes a step forward and turns in order to look to Cora still as they talk and take in the rest of the corridor. "Not that I'm trying to tell you what to do, of course, just, you know."
"It can be dangerous, thinking while walking," Cora quips in return, "You should be careful or you'll find yourself knocked over, or run into a wall." She does not appear to mind the informality, and her lips curve a shade further at the crack about being creepy. "If it were 'folk', maybe," she replies, "But it is a captured humanoid cylon — a model Five, I'm told — currently occupying the brig and my attention. I'd like to get a sense of what she's like before I question her."
Lysander gives a nice and charming har-har under his breath when it comes to potentially running into walls. He flashes a light grin as well before moving to fold his arms loosely over the front of his chest. The notebook gets tucked to the right of his side in the process. "Well," starts Garret after a long moment of just standing there and listening. "Personally, I'd start with a 'hello, how are you doing?' but I can see where that would probably not help anythin' save for my own curiosity. Probably why I ain't Intel," and just an NCO, "But, hey, call me unconventional I guess… Wait, am I about to be hijacked into helpin'?" It's happened before, that is.
Cora snorts softly at Lysander's suggestion. "You favor Major Tillman's approach, then," she tells him, "He was extraordinarily polite to the last skinjob we…hosted. I believe I may have actually said precisely that to it, on his suggestion. From what I hear so far, it will not work with this one…but maybe I will try it anyway, just to see what she does." At the prospect of surprising the prisoner into reaction, she smirks faintly, clearly pleased with the idea, and then turns back to look at the marine, brows lifting. "Helping?" She clearly had not considered it before, but she does now, and after a beat asks, "Would you like to?"
Lysander lifts an eyebrow suddenly, mostly because his awesomeness is being compared to Major Tillman's awesomeness, "Oh?" The brief interjection is followed with him swallowing down more words and then smiling to himself with a light nod of his head, listening to her. There's no need for him to stroke his ego as he stands there. These days, his self-esteem is intact. He opens his mouth to reply and then gives himself pause to think it over and not rush into things. The marine officers like to volunteer him for things. Now he gets to decide for himself. The Sergeant looks down and then back to her eyes. "I'm horrible at interrogations, but I'm good at bein' personable - I think. So I wouldn't know if I'd be good for the job overall, but I'm willin' and able, sir. Never know until you try, and all that jazz."
Cora just watches as Lysander listens and then considers, allowing him that moment or two to think it over before she in turn ponders his reply. Her head tilts faintly as she looks at him — up, but only slightly — and then asks after a moment, "If I were to ask you to be personable to the prisoner, and to allow her to think you were doing it without anyone's knowledge and even against the will of your superiors and myself, do you think you could do that? Good cop, basically, and bait. Someone gullible-seeming to dangle before her, to see if and how she might try to manipulate you."
Lysander reaches up to comb his right hand's fingertips through his dark hair, debating on the option presented to him. He gets to play the hapless marine nice guy? Well, he does happen to have a rather charming smile and wondrous physique at least, in his honest opinion. It leads to him pursing his lips into a thinned but appreciative, haughty smile. He's almost smirking, almost. "You want me to try and get manipulated by a known humanoid model, well, I hear she has a hard-on for destroyin' all humans, but," he tips his chin respectfully to Cora and further adds while sobering up his expression and once-excited tone of voice, "I can do it. I can look gullible."
Cora watches once again, observing in silence as Lysander contemplates his choice. She shifts but subtly, fingers loosening and repositioning themselves around the edge of the notebook she holds as she waits. "Good," she replies when he agrees, continuing, "I have heard this model is particularly aggressive about its hatred of humans, and so it's possible you may not get anywhere at all. But I think if you play it right, perhaps she'll say something interesting."
There's a short but easily noticeable glance given to the notebook that she has but the man doesn't question it. It's assumed to hold secret intelligence secrets. He returns to folding his arms casually over the front of his torso and stiffly nods upon her agreeing with his agreeing. The smile lingers upon Lysander's expression and keeps it from falling neutral. "I take it no one gets to know about this either, eh? I'm fine with that, of course," subterfuge and the like, "Did you want me to do it now, or?"
As if Cora would write down secret intelligent secrets in something as easy to steal as a notebook. …unless they were encoded secret intelligence secrets, at least. Right? As far as anyone knowing, she considers that, lips pursing faintly in thought before she shrugs. "Major Willows-Cavanagh and Lieutenant O'Hare ought to be aware, so you don't accidentally end up in trouble. And no, it does not need to be now. You'll be put into guard-duty rotation in some fashion and that will provide opportunities to interact that will see more organic."
"They happen to be one of my favorites around here," not that when it comes to marine officers that there is a gross amount of pickings to choose from. He gives another nod of his head and then takes a bit in simply worrying over his bottom lip, thoughtful about it. He nods again. "I should probably stop distracting you and go about contacting the Major and Lieutenant, shouldn't I?" Lysander opens his mouth to speak up further, mayhaps in going to correct his choice of words, but he leaves it at that and looks on expectantly instead.
"I'm glad to hear it. I'll mark that down your votes on my ranking sheet," Cora replies a shade dryly, though it seems to be amused rather than annoyed. When he nods, she follows suit after a moment, confirming, "Yes, I ought to get to work. Please speak to the major and the lieutenant about this as soon as possible. I will mention it as well if I see them. Don't come on too strong from the start. With the skinjob, I mean," she clarifies, "I think this one is smart enough to suss out a lure if it's not carefully done." She is quiet for a moment, her turn to appear as if she might be about to add more, and then not. Instead she nods again. "Very well. Let me know how it goes."
Lysander inhales and then nods in agreement to Cora, understandably so when it comes to the skinjob in the brig. He glances aside and then over his shoulder towards the pathway that leads in its direction and then looks to the berths before changing his mind off of that. He'll head for the offices first, speak with the officers. "Well, Captain Nikephoros, it was a pleasure as always." The Sergeant gives a bow of his head once more and a good-natured smile before stepping aside to pace himself, not so slowly this time around, to beyond just the corridors of marine country.
"It was, Sergeant Lysander," Cora replies, her own head tilting more faintly in response to his nod. She smiles, a little crookedly, and offers, "Good luck," before shifting that noteback back under an arm and heading down the corridor in the opposite direction. Time to be creepy.