| PHD #222: Hot and Bothered |
| Summary: | Devlin meets the new Black Knights SL and gets an ass-chewing for free. |
| Date: | 06 Oct 2041 AE |
| Related Logs: | None |
| Players: |
  |
| Pilot Berths - Naval Deck - Battlestar Cerberus |
|---|
| 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. |
| Post-Holocaust Day: #222 |
Devlin heads in through the hatch, still dressed in a flight suit, not that that's an uncommon sight around these parts. He heads towards a bunk marked 'DEVLIN, P.' and takes one step up the ladder to peek under the curtain. Apparently he does not find what he was hoping for, since he is frowning a little when he sets back down. He looks around for a moment, eyeing the berthings, and then leans back against the ladder to begin peeling off his flightsuit like he can't stand to be wearing it any longer.
Shortly after the nugget's entrance is the freshly minted Captain Khloe Vakos, wearing her dress blues, and shouldering a large duffel. It's a rare sight to catch Poppy out of her blues, other than flight times and her usual hour or two a day in the athletic center; even as a lieutenant in the Checkmates she usually walked around in uniform. Fatigues, it seems, don't agree with her.
She slings the duffel down by the door but out of the way, and takes a look around the berth. Maintained much like any other on Cerberus, it's always a chore trying to find out where to live and stash your stuff. Her eyes alight on Alex, and she asks, "Something wrong with your flight suit?"
Devlin isn't the biggest fan of fatigues, it seems, since he's forgone the shirt beneath his flight suit, peeling it off to reveal tanktops and those green trousers. He looks up quickly at the unfamiliar voice, and then when he's sure a moment later that his feet won't be tangled, he straightens up and salutes, "No, sir. Just kind of warm all of a sudden. Sorry if I bothered you somehow."
Khloe waves off the salute. "Relax," she says, although it's not clear if she's annoyed or not. Poppy always comes across as an emotionless automaton, most of the time. "Devlin, right?" She asks, walking past slowly, eyeing the name plates on the various bunks. "I heard about your 'performance' during the sim versus the Areion's sticks. You hang a chunk of meat outside your cockpit or something?"
Devlin drops the salute, though 'relax' might be a stretch. "Yes, sir," he nods at the name she guesses, and then shakes his head at the next question, "No, sir. Not sure why they did that, sir. Guess that's just how they play." He glances once at the new squad leader, a little bit sideways as she walks past, and then turns his gaze back ahead, focused on the bunks across from him. That one with the DEVLIN nameplate, by the way? Even the drab military curtain drawn across it can't disguise the neon pink bedding.
"Wound one of your prey so the rest are slowed as they care for you," Khloe says in her usual clipped pace, as she finds a rack that's got no one in it, above or below. She pulls back the curtains to be sure: yep, bare mattresses. "We divert resources to protect the nugget, and then they have more predictable targets. Although it didn't quite work out that way for them, that was probably what they had in mind. Or, they were just frakking around with you." She glances back over her shoulder at Alex, then turns to face him. "I heard you also kept your cool."
"Could be either, sir," Devlin agrees with a nod. He refocuses his eyes from middle distance to Khloe when she turns to face him, though it's more obligatory than searching, or even seeking out eye contact. He replies simply, "I try, sir. It was only an exercise."
Khloe makes a soft snorting sound - could be out of derision, or it could be what passes for a chuckle for the new squad leader. Either way, she crosses back across the berths to claim her bag. "No one's been in those for a while, have they?" She asks, verifying. "Oh, and those sheets aren't regulation," she says as she picks up the duffel by its straps and starts walking it over to her claimed space.
"I suppose not, sir," Devlin replies. He watches as Khloe walks away and claims her bunk, bending then to tug his flightsuit the rest of the way off his toes and fold it carelessly up. About the sheets, he just nods again, "I'll let her know, sir."
"Her?" Poppy tosses her bag down, not quite turning to look at the nugget. She's definitely smirking now, a corner of her mouth turned up. "Oh, that's not yours. Sorry. I just assumed." Then she crouches down to unzip the bag and begins unpacking. Everything in the bag is folded, creased, stacked perfectly. Everything comes out in the same orderly fashion as it went in: uniforms, skivvies, civilian clothes. Several sketchbooks and a box of what is likely pencils and erasers. The whole lot is, bit by bit, transferred to the corresponding locker.
"Lieutenant Psyche Devlin, sir," Alex supplies, "That's her bunk. Mine is in the recruit berths, since I haven't been commissioned." He watches as she unpacks and then blurts at that smirking assumption: "Really, sir?" He sounds a bit skeptical, but follows up quickly, lest he seem too rude: "It's awfully pink, sir."
Inside her locker door at eye level, Poppy installs a small mirror with what appears to be magnets affixed to the back side. Click. She angles the open door so she can see Devlin without turning around. "Could be your thing. I once shared rack space with a pilot at Tau Garrison. Gayer than a fake tan." She shrugs lightly, unfolding extra blues carefully and hanging them up. "I'm not one to judge."
"I suppose that's possible, sir," Devlin concedes, "But no. The lieutenant's my wife." Hence the same last name, obviously. Devlin is silent for a moment, and then ventures, "You are the new squad leader, sir, correct? Captain…Vakos?"
Khloe bends down to carefully tuck her sketch pads into her locker, beside where an extra pair of combat boots, flight boots, and some athletic shoes get tucked. When she comes up, she turns to face Alex, one of her eyebrows going up. "Captain Khloe Vakos, formerly of the Checkmates, and now the Es-El of the Black Knights. And you, Midshipman, came here straight from duty, still in your flight suit, hoping to enjoy nuptials during off-hours with your new wife. Which means you weren't thinking about your duties. You were distracted. Am I right?" Shoulders square up as Poppy makes her inquiry in her command-alto voice. Hoo boy.
Devlin looks, for a moment, like he's going to say something, and by the way his arm and expression shift it looks most likely to be a greeting or welcome of some sort. Of course, then Khloe goes on, and he stays silent instead, until the end. "No, sir," he replies after a moment, "I don't have duty shifts, sir, but I do have my first CAP in the morning. I was hoping Psyche would come to the sims with me, to go over some things I was just out practicing."
"You don't have duties?" Khloe repeats, circumventing the table and crossing over to where Alex is standing, so she can be several feet from him while continuing to yell. Well, speak sternly to, anyway. She hasn't raised her voice yet. "I didn't realize this was a country club, my apologies." Clearly she's not apologizing. "And what sort of sim training involves taking off your suit before you practice? Like I said, Mister, I'm not judgmental, but I think the kind of stick practice you were looking for didn't involve a sim pod."
Devlin frowns a little, dark brows inching inwards. His jaw sets, but he doesn't say anything, at least not right away. He waits a moment, until Khloe seems finished or at least well-paused, and then replies, "No one has ever asked me to wear a flight suit in the sims, sir, and I just meant that I'm not on the official duty flight rotation. I take my training seriously." He also takes staring at the wall next to her head pretty seriously, at the moment.
Khloe nods slowly. "Then from now on, consider it. A Viper's cockpit is designed to be comfortable enough to allow for some pretty fantastic aerial acrobatics, but it's not meant to be pink sheets and ruffles. Sims shouldn't be comfortable. Sims should be done wearing required gear, else you get used to operating under unrealistic circumstances." A beat. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Midshipman. You're dismissed. Unless it's naptime?" She glances back past him at Psyche's bunk again, then back to him.
Devlin says nothing, continuing to look straight ahead at the wall. He's tense, almot palpably so, but other than a lingering frown, he doesn't give any real voice to it. "No sir," he replies simply, and not very loud, turning to step past her and towards the hatch to exit.
"Nice meeting you, nugget," comes Khloe's final quip as she turns to go back to unpacking.