PHD #119: Homework Detail
Homework Detail
Summary: Sunshine and happiness in the Pilot Berths.
Date: 2041.06.25
Related Logs: Directly followed by Get Angry
Alessandra Coll Evandreus Tisiphone 
Pilot Berths — Naval Deck — Battlestar Cerberus
Post-Holocaust Day: #119
The battlestar's pilots call this place home. Bunks line the walls with grey curtains to cover their sleeping areas. Lockers sit between each pair of bunks and a round metal table sits in the center, furnished with simple but comfortable steel chairs. A hatch at the rear of the room leads to a communal head.
Condition Level: 3 — All Clear

The smell of a freshly brewed pot of rationed coffee wafts through the air as it brews, the maker itself making the happy little gurgling and bubbling sounds as it forces the water through the thrice-used grinds, that accompanied by the steady drip-dripping of it as the urn is steadily filled. It's a process that takes mere moments but for Allie, who is grossly under-slept and groggy, it feels like it is taking forever. That, along with the folder she's looking at, is giving her cause to mutter, the Lieutenant pacing while she pours over a report of some flavor or another.

Evandreus is in bed. This is no surprise. He's -still- not back on the line, and sleep seems to have consumed the better part of his life. As the gurgling and coffee-smell invades his bunk (the curtains are open, after their usual fashion), he gives a gret grunt and flips over onto his back, wearing just a pair of fatigues trousers, sans socks, shoes, or shirt. Pillow goes over his face and both arms fold overtop of it, as if he were trying to smother himself.

A stranger in this country? The last time Coll saw this room she was paranoid and under light interrogation from Quinn. That crushed and tortured soul has taken a detour somewhere along the way and is allll smiles when she enters the hatchway. Dressed in her off-duties, she's huffing a little as she wipes the sweat from her brow. But it would seem that nothing is going to stand in the way of her mood. That brushed aluminum binder is tucked into the crook of her arm as she raps her knuckles gently on the frame of the door. "El-tee? Got a few things I wanted to talk to you about." Is she..glowing?

The sound of pillow put to face is quiet but gets Alessandra's attention anyhow, it causing her pacing to cease. Casting a fond look Bunny-wards, she approaches his bunk and kneels down it, watching him as he fights off whatever it is that got him to cover his hhead. "Sleepy head. Would you like some coffee, hun? It's almost done." That is said just before Coll's voice announces her arrival, Allie looking over with a smile. "Lauren. Come on in, hmm? Coffee's on. Almost done. Help yourself to a mug." The fact that Coll said she has something to talk about gets her to stare at the deckie, her expresion bordering on curious.

Evandreus moos. Or. That's sort of the noise he makes, groaning into the underside of his pillow, the fibers muffling it until it comes out the other side sounding positively bovine. Whether he's mooing at the smell or the people talking or specifically at the question he gets asked is unclear, but that's all the answer Duckie gets. One knee rises slowly toward the top of Bunny's bunk while he stretches out his other leg, trying to work out the tension in his lower back with a faint arc of his body.

The hatch spins and swings open to admit one (1) Tisiphone, fresh from CAP. She's still in her flight suit, the front undone and pulled open against sweaty tanks. Her expression is tense and shuttered — a tough time out there, perhaps — and frosts over the rest of the way at the sight of Alessandra. Her eyes slide from her to Coll with a flicker of unfriendly curiousity, before she detours toward her locker. "You brought your entry toll?" is asked of the Deckie. "The booze or smokes go over there." A nod toward a short footlocker near the door.

Coll smiles to Alessandra. "Thanks, sir. Wanted to talk to you..and..maybe others?" She slides a little bit of a glance to Tisiphone as she steps the rest of the way inside. "I didn't bring my toll, sorry sir. Though I bring other offerings and tidings? Whether or not its good enough, well I'll leave you to be the judge." She glances to Evan up on the bed and then back to Allie while she stops at the table, setting the binder down. "We're at the point where we are looking at gun and cannon armaments. Needed some advice. I've been out of the game for a bit and you all would know your threats better than I would."

Alessandra grins at the Evan-Bunny-turned-moo-cow, giving him a quick touch. "I'll get you a mug and set it nearby for if you decide you want it." The straightening from the knelt position, groaning some when her knees decide to protest at having been bent and made to rest on the deck plating. Seeing Tisiphone has her nodding once to the new JiG but her attention is further drawn away from the half-awake form to Coll, her explaning why she is here making Allie pause. "I'm by no means a tech but I can try to answer any questions you might have." The maker makes one last, long gurgle and then a hiss is emitted, the signs that the brewing has been completed.

The pillow over Bunny's head rises just enough for him to replenish his air supply and toss out his own half-formed opinion on the matter, eyes still bleared shut: "No guns on my boat, dude." Then, edict having been delivered, neck collapses head back onto mattress, arms tuck pillow overhead again. At least now you know he's listening. He toes his blankets and murblemoos through the pillow when he's touched, shifting his hips and generally looking less than comfortable. His stopwatch begins to beep at him and an arm flails back to grab at it and turn it off.

"You might want to make your first contact point someone more combat-capable, Crewman," suggests Tisiphone, looking back over her shoulder to Coll as she peels an arm out of her flight suit. It's still not a friendly look — and she eyes the binder on the table as if it might stain their furniture. "Your information's only going to be as good as the pilot you're taking it from. I'd recommend Broadsides Captain Matise or Petrels Captain Sitka. They've both got experience actually worth listening to." She turns again, back to her locker, peeling her other arm from her suit.

Coll is about to begin when Tisiphone starts up. She slides her gaze from the Jig to Alessandra and back again. "And no recommendation for yourself, sir? Well, hey, no problem." The glance to her binder isn't missed either. "I can take a hint. Apparently the swinging brass in here is a little too heavy for me." Pissed off? Nope. Just concilatory. "I'll take this project elsewhere. Lieutenant, sir? Let me know when you have time for a meeting. I'd like to talk to you about this before I speak with the CAG tomorrow. I'll be giving her the plans then." A single nod of her head toward Allie and she moves off back for the hatch with her paperwork.

Alessandra gathers a few folders after pouring two mugs of coffee, one for herself which is left black, the other sweetened and left for Evan, it doctored up only that far since she doesn't know how he takes it. "There you go, Bunny." Giving Tisiphone a pointed look, Allie grins and quips easily, "Well, since you're such an expert about who is and isn't worth listening to, I'm sure you'll love to write a report about that very subject. I expect to see it on my desk by tomorrow evening…Lieutenant." Her mug is gathered and then she's tailing after Lauren, intent on having the meeting with her now if how she's following after is any indication.

Evandreus throws his pillow against the wall, and even after it flops back onto his chest he sits up and lets it slide off of him again. Hair all catawompus and greasy, he sits there, slouched and blinking a few times before he slides his legs off of the edge of his bunk, brows furrowing together as he goes through the process of extracting all his various pills from their various bottles. He doesn't say anything, yet. Not getting in the middle of -this- one.

Laughter drifts over Tisiphone's shoulder, richly-amused and thick with black mirth. "I'm counting myself in that same group, Lucky," she scornfully points out, glancing back for just a moment with that frosted-over stare. "But you need me doing your homework for you? You got it." Head tipped, teeth still bared with a grin, she starts working her hips and legs out of the tail end of her suit. "Get a good source before that goes to the CAG, Crewman," she calls after Coll. "She actually /knows/ her shit."

Coll stops by the hatch and quirks a brow as she looks to Tisi. She cocks the binder between hands and shakes her head. "Geez. Kinda glad I didn't apply for the Wing again," she demures to Alessandra. "Seems like some of the members forgot what it was to conduct themselves like officers. Not sure I'd fit in with this pack, Lieutenant Sophronia." She gives a pointed look towards Tisi and moves on back out the door.

Coll leaves, heading towards the Deck 4 [Out].
Coll has left.

"I'll keep that in mind…" Allie intones indifferently, that accompanied with a slight shrug that is equally lacking of care. She exits the berths, utterly unflapped.

Alessandra leaves, heading towards the Deck 4 [Out].
Alessandra has left.

Pills. Mouth. And Bunny's shoving off of the edge of his bunk and landing on the floor, fortunately enough on his feet. He approaches the coffee, then turns aside to go to the sink, instead. Water > hot coffee, for swallowing pills. Once they're down, he stands up again, squinting back at Tis. "You okay?" he asks her, voice gravelly.

Tisiphone drops her flight suit the first time she tries to hang it up, crouching to pick it up and try again. Second time's the charm, and then she brings a leg up, foot braced on the edge of her locker, to start unlacing her boot. She takes a deep breath that catches at the end, as if she's about to speak, then just blows out a sigh, instead. Boot off, foot down. Other boot up. As she unlaces this one with agitated gestures, she finally says in a thready voice, "Any of that /sound/ okay to you, Bunny? Frak." Frustration.

Evandreus heads back from the sink, not retreating to his bed again, for once, but coming around the table to face Tisiphone, just resting his butt against the table edge, arms at his sides, posture open and vulnerable, but at the same time not shrinking under the agitation. "No," he answers honestly. "That's not going to work, in the long run, Cubits. You're not going to be able to convince Toast to go back on her decision. And mouthing off to your SL at any given opportunity isn't going to help your squadron in the least. That said…." he pauses, lifting a hand to scratch through stubble striving for beard status again. "You showed some restraint. You didn't hit her. That's… a good start."

"Change the CAG's mind? Frak /that/, man." A tight bark of dubious and dispirited laughter. There are some things even Tisiphone's not fool enough to believe are possible, it seems. "She /trusts/ Lucky." So disgusted to say those words, the frustration and… fear?… roiling around beneath. "Said she trusts /me/, too, so who the frak even KNOWS what's she's thinking-" She throws her towel to her bunk and, as turning back to her locker, slams the door against the frame with a gunshot-like WHANG! that sends it flying back open. "Frak," she repeats, curling her hand at the back of her neck, nails biting into the skin.

Evandreus' whole frame stiffens briefly at the gunshot noise ringing through the berths. When he manages to unclench his jaw, he slides back into motion, easing forward off of the table edge and reaching with one gentle hand to coax it between Tisiphone's claws and her neck, lest she injure herself. "All of us serve under an SL or CAG we can't stand at one point or another. Most of us were… lucky enough to pull that duty when we weren't all facing imminent death. I'm so sorry, Tis."

The sharp noise served as a bit of a RESET button for Tisiphone, perhaps — she just stands there, adrenaline bleeding out through trembling fingers, as Evan approaches. There are faded pink lines across the back of her neck — some previous struggle for calm — and fresh crescent-moon nailmarks, when her hand's moved away. "All's I frakking care is that I'm never on her wing again," she mutters. "She can try to kill the rest of the Knights off first before she gets a frakking crack at /me/ again." She struggles through a few deep breaths. O calmness, where art thou? Finally she twists, finally bringing her hectic, too-bright stare up to Evan. So rarely there's eye contact with him, until /after/ she's done raging. Perhaps she's ashamed to do so. "I'm- listen, Bunny. I'm gonna grab a shower. Hit the punching bag. I'll- see you in a bit, okay?"

Evandreus moves fingertips over crescentmoons, as if a kindly touch could heal. "Okay, hon," he begins, hand brushing down her upper arm a little bit as he retreats, letting her go. "You know where I am— if you need me, okay?" Eye contact is easy, if lethargic, energy-free eyebeams there for hers to push into without resistance. Backing up to the table, he reaches aside to take up the coffee cup, keeping eye contact with Tis as he does so.

Tisiphone turns and picks up her towel, throwing it over her head like some sort of drab, military-issue headscarf. "I always need you, Bunny," she says as she turns, looking back to him. Sort of wry, that look, as if it's a beat of honesty that pains her to let out. Two steps carry her over to him — and his sleep-flattened hair, which she rumples into some new, equally-disheveled configuration with still-quaking fingertips. "Just show it for shit, sometimes. I'll catch you in a bit." A final tousling before she turns, beating her retreat toward the head.

Evandreus hates coffee. Duckie, evidently, has not caught onto this fact, yet. Still, he holds it a moment as if summoning up the nerve to drink some— maybe it'll give him the kick he needs to stay out of bed, today. Instead, though, he sets it back aside, eyes warming with a sort of grateful fondness as Tisiphone comes closer, arms at the ready to wrap around her, soft, gentle and warm as she comes close, folding around and them unfolding again, responsive to the first signs of her retreat. "I'll see you later."

A folder full of paperwork is delivered to the CAG's office, late in the evening. Attached to it is the following note, printed in a neat, somewhat blocky hand:


Earlier today, LT Sophronia expressed her unfamiliarity with basic Viper weaponry loadouts and requested I educate her on the matter.

Enclosed please find the pertinent schematics and performance parameters for all standard Viper Mk. VII loadouts, as well as the bibliography for available books in our library. The majority of them were required reading for completing flight training at Lefka Ori.

I had assumed this information was basic knowledge for all pilots, but I am happy to be able to help the LT reacquaint herself with rudimentary combat details.

I would pass this information along directly to her, but I am uncertain where the LT is keeping herself these days, barring our brief interaction in the berths. I appreciate your assistance in this matter, as I would hate to fail in my first duties to my new SL.

LTJG Apostolos

(OOC: The 'L' rather looks like she started to write an 'E', first.)

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License