PHD #285: How We Deal With Loss
PHD #285: How We Deal With Loss
Summary: The sticks of Battlestar Cerberus each deal with the reality of Tisiphone's suicide in their own way. Some lash out, some cry, and some are there to lashed out at or be cried upon.
Date: 08 Dec 2041 AE
Related Logs: None.
Andrea Cidra Khloe Malone Psyche Wade 
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: #285

It is certain that the Black Knights have been suffering. Heck, not just the Black Knights, the entire Air-Wing. Still, life goes on and duty still needs to be fulfilled. Because of this, Wade just got out of CAP. The man steps inside the Berths, wearing his flight suit at the moment. He carries his helmet under his arm and idly looks around for a moment, not really looking for anything in particular. Finally, he opens the door of his locker and takes a deep breath as he pushes down his front zipper, unhooking the safelocks across his chest and stomach area.

Sitting at the main table is Captain Vakos, dressed rarely in her fatigue greens. She has a shoe polish kit out, and is apparently going over the boots to her uniform. Probably one of the few people who actually expends the effort to shine her boots on a weekly basis, she's been known to hoarde things that make precision military life easier, such as black shoe polish. Still, it seems she uses only the smallest amount to get the job done, working hard to ensure her boots are clean and unscuffed.

Wade looks over his shoulder, seeing the Black Knights SL doing that. His attention moves back to his locker as he keeps getting out of the flight suit. Wade hangs said suit and places it inside his locker, not closing the door yet. Now, he wears his off-duty greens, what he had underneath and his regulation pants. "How's the polishing going, Captain" idly asks the man, now turning around again to take a seat close to where Khloe is. He leans his back against the chair and leans his head back, rubbing his fingers over closed eyes.

"I once knew a drill sergeant who told us that if you could eat off of your boots, you could lose weight," Khloe tells the story as she finishes the last section of heel on her last boot. "Basically, the idea was, anything you put on top of the boot would look twice its size. So you were actually eating half of what you thought you were." With one hand inside the boot, she lifts it up so she can give it a quick spit to finish the shine. "It sounded like a better story fifteen years ago."

Wade shows a very brief, very faint smile "Also toxic, given contact with the shoe polish" There is a soft chuckle and then he takes a deep breath, looking around the area. Right at this moment, there aren't many pilots around. And Khloe and Wade seem to be the only ones there that are not sleeping. Both hands go to his face and he starts rubbing it, later sliding his fingers through his hair. "But I guess I can understand the point there." And yes, it would have a different appeal years ago. "What are you planning on doing afterwards?"

"Afterwards?" Khloe repeats the question, looking confused. Not often does anyone ever ask her what her schedule is like. She sets the boot down, and begins folding up her shine rag and packaging up the shine kit. "Well, laundry, really. And then I was planning on going for a run or hitting the athletic center. And then probably some paperwork." She rarely, if ever, sits still. "Why?" The question seems to carry a certain distrust with it; Khloe glances over at her locker, which is mere feet away, but has been left open as she is in immediate vicinity. She's been locking it ever since Hosedown mucked with her personal effects.

"Yes, afterwards. Whatever comes next…" offers the man with a bit of a smile. He arches both eyebrows and does smile again, it is an easy smile, not force "There's no why, I was just asking out of curiosity. Don't worry Captain, I'm not going to ask you on a date or something like that." He shakes his head at that, still smiling a little. He leans his back against the chair again and adds "Also not trying to pull pranks by attacking your locker." Another nod and he takes a deep breath "Just some…conversation. But hey, I know how that makes you nervous"

Khloe stands up, a smooth motion, and gathers up the folded-up kit and her boots. She carries them over to her locker, and they are stowed with deliberate placement. "I'd have to turn you down, Drips, because of fraternization rules. Well, that, and you're not my type. I appreciate you not asking me on a date." She wrinkles her nose, shaking her head. No, the prospect of that evil four-letter word, 'date', doesn't look like it's something she'd ever consider. Especially not in perpetual wartime. "I'm not much of a conversationalist. But I suppose I can get my paperwork out of the way now, if you don't mind a lot of nods and 'uh-huhs'."

"Yes, because of the rules and…yes, also not your type" says Wade, still carrying that smile. He presses his lips together for a moment as if considering something. This is done while she moves around putting order to her things "Yeah, don't worry, I noticed you aren't" informs Wade, but "So!.." starts the man, clearing his throat and shifting on his seat "What kind is your type?" The man actually stands up, moving to his own locker to take a couple items from there. Mostly, shower items. His attention moves back to Khloe and he says "You know, I take the Military is your life and yadda-yadda…but, you are still human, are you not?"

Sigh. Khloe set herself up for this. Producing a folder from her locker, as well as a black ink pen, she heads back over to where she was seated, not waiting for Wade to finish gathering his things. "You know, Lieutenant, the last thing I need is for the rumor mill to start churning about what gets Captain Khloe Vakos all hot and bothered. It's not appropriate, and I really don't want to have to bust heads open." With some irritation, she flips the folder open, and starts sorting a variety of printouts and reports. "Human, yes, sadly. Flaws and all." Flip, flip.

Wade moves back to take a seat once again and chuckles with amusement at her first words "I respect that you don't want to say what gets you hot and bothered tho I will admit that I'm really curious. However, know this…I am no rat, I don't go around telling people what they tell me" He shrugs at this, and he really isn't. Heck, he kept the secrets of a lot of people, and they kept his of course. The Horsemen? A real Band of Brothers. "Why sadly? Human condition, as flawed as it is…is a great thing." He shrugs "With our flaws, we learn to be better, don't we?"

"Good," Khloe says to Wade on his comment about not being a rat. "There are things I can trust you with. But let's just draw the line at that, shall we?" Flip, she turns over a report that looks suspiciously like it's a summary of a toxicology report. "We learn to be better, or we die trying," she comments. "Preferably at the hands of our enemies, and not ourselves."

Wade snaps his fingers at that and smiles "Well, fair enough. I will admit however that I had to force myself not to 'completely' look when you walked out of the Berths, well…doing that walk" Now, he smiles once again, she'll know what he is talking about. He goes silent for a moment and then adds "Unless you don't try to be better, which is the case for many many people. Not everyone shares your views Captain" says the man, now tilting his head at the last part "And not ourselves? Meaning?"

Khloe narrows her eyes slightly; there's nothing provocative, at least deliberately, about how she walks. But she lets it go in favor of a subject slightly less irritating. "The Cylons can kill us down to the last man, Drips. But our own worst enemy is ourselves. I won't speak for all of humanity, as I'm far from a shining example," she begins. "But I'm a creature of vice, naturally. If I didn't wrap myself in rules, regulations, and constantly keep my mind moving in the direction of what makes me a better soldier, I would slip. I'd slip up and break my neck on something as simple as someone leaving a lit cigarette in an ash tray, or a bottle of whiskey, or something that you might consider benign. And then that would translate to someone in the squad getting injured or killed on my watch." Her jaw shifts a little as her face darkens. "It's why I reviewed the Aerilon footage until my eyes practically bled. I wanted to make sure that I didn't kill her." Meaning, of course, Lucky.

Andrea arrives from the Deck 4.
Andrea has arrived.

Wade leans against his seat, listening to what Khloe is saying. He crosses his arms over his chest and while she speaks, he does internal math, tying points, figuring things out. The man rubs his fingers over his cheeks and takes a deep breath, leaning forward on his sit, tapping on the table with his fingers. Before she stops talking, his attention goes to the papers in front of Khloe. Now the man looks at Khloe once again and nods "And that, you didn't" About killing Allie, he is talking about. He clears his throat now and looks at the papers again "Are those about Money Shot?" he asks, sitting back once again right after. "What does it say?" Yeah, this is something that has been around his mind since she died.

"It's… need to know," Khloe replies to Wade, continuing to thumb through several pages. Including a blank 'notification of next of kin' form - it seems she requisitioned the form without even really thinking about the current situation of the battlestar and the Colonies. "Suffice it to say, we lost another good pilot. And again, I'm following the letter, making sure that I, as her SL, didn't frak up somewhere." When she gets to the end of the folder's contents, she rubs her face with both hands. It's clear, whatever she knows, it weighs down hard on her.

The door to the head opens, and in walks Andrea, all dolled out in sweats and carrying a rather dirty looking toothbrush. In light of that, she has a small smile on her face, at least until she catches the mood of the room. She gives them both nods, though her eyes rest for a while on Khloe, not used to the captain showing emotion that isn't either rage or mostly contained amusement.

Wade presses his lips hard, now seeing that she won't tell. He takes a deep breath and continues to tap on the table with his fingers as he looks deep into Khloe's eyes "Yes, yes we lost another damn good pilot Captain. We lost a damn great person." Now he sees her reaction and he shakes his head "I need to know, Captain" says Wade. He thinks he knows, but there is a hint of hope there. Still, he needs to know. He wants to know. Now, he hears that someone just stepped inside the place. Wade looks over his shoulder only to see Andrea there; he nods in silence and remains silent for a few seconds "Hosedown"

It's almost as if Khloe, in her emotional state, is about to reveal precisely what happened to Tisiphone. But at the mention of Hosedown, she sits up suddenly, clearing her throat, and quickly closing the folder. "I thought I heard brushing sounds," she's quick to quip, but slow to turn in her seat; it's almost as if she has to find her grrface again. But she does, and she does. "I hope you properly dispose of that toothbrush when you're done, Hosedown, or put it in a baggie for the next Nugget to frak up something fierce. Yes, definitely. Save it for Mr. Wright."

Andrea's reads Wade's reactions a bit like a mirror… she interrupted something. Her eyes express an apology as Khloe turns to her, and she puts on her smile. Hey, she's the happy go lucky one, right? "Sounds a lot like something mama would say," she quips back, and then looks at the brush. Ewww. "I was thinking I might keep it around, a reminder by which I might mend my ways and walk the straight and narrow."

Wade looks at Khloe in silence and then stands up again, walking to his locker. Well, time to start getting ready. While the two of them talk, he takes off his green tanktop and gray tshirt, moving them into his laundry bag. Dogtags hanging over his chest as usual. Now he turns around to face them both saying "That tootbrush probably smells like crap, literally…I wouldn't keep it around" He smiles a little again, trying to regain his usual mood even if it is very hard for him to do so at this time.

"Yes, don't keep that disgusting thing in the berths. I'll make it an order if I have to," Khloe says. She, too, rises to stand, taking her folder with her to her locker, into which she tucks it safely - apparently, it wasn't locked from the last time she closed it, which was probably not long ago. "Find a jar of deck shine or something to stick it in and seal it tight… something that'll kill the smell."

"Hear you loud and clear, sir. I hear reminders to mend your ways are just wastes of space, anyway." She glances at the disgusting thing, then grabs a small plastic bag from her bunk to shove it in, probably to seal away. Or maybe airlock. What were they feeding these people? "Look, both of you. I… I never really got to know her. But sorry. I really am."

Wade just shakes his head at the whole, dirty ass tootbrush thing and resumes what he was doing. He takes a fresh towel from his locker and pushes down his pants, taking off one leg at a time. The pants go into his laundry bag as well and then he unrolls his towel, folding it just to place it over the chair for a moment as he keeps searching for stuff in his locker. Soap, check. Tootbrush (clean), check. His whole checklist thing gets cut when Andrea mentions the last and he turns around, looking at her "Thank you. I didn't her all that well either but she had a major positive impact in me" He nods to this and then his attention drifts to Khloe. He still wants to know, damn it.

For a brief moment, Khloe's usual stony gaze softens a bit, particularly around the eyes. But it's gone in a flash. "This isn't frakking chapel. I'm not about to hold hands and talk about our feelings. Build a bridge." Where that venom comes from, and where it's directed to, is anybody's guess. She simply rests a forearm against the locker frame and leans in a bit into her personal space, digging around for something. Or, making it look like she's searching when she's actually trying to hide how emotional she is.

Andrea glares a bit as Khloe snaps, and when the Captain's back is turned she raises up the bagged toothbrush, and seems to consider tossing it into the locker. Lockdown's no damn good, and angry is better than nothing, right? It's how Poppy KNOWS to show emotion. She then glances at Wade, however, even as her arm starts the throwing motion. She did promise him to be more careful. Stopping her arm in motion, she sighs, and double bags the brush before putting it down to deny herself the temptation.

Wade sees what Andrea is trying to do and there's a invisible facepalm there, in his mind. However, he can't help but to smile just a little and shake his head at this. When she stops herself from doing that, he nods at her and then looks towards Khloe, pressing his lips together. He knows the SL is not a Robot, so he knows something is going on there. Still, he opens his mouth and says "Not everyone can build a bridge that easily, Captain" He is not saying that she can't, he is just saying that it's a hard thing to do. He takes a deep breath and finally speaks "Money Shot…we flew together a few times, she was outstanding at team play."

There's a sniffle and a wrist that gets rubbed under Khloe's nose. She "finds" what she was looking for, in the most precisely organized locker left in the known universe: her sweats, rolled up military style, and her sneakers. "I'm going down to the athletic center," she says quickly as she closes her locker and gives the dial a spin. As she goes, without saying goodbye, it's clear her locker lock didn't actually find purchase and the door hangs a few milimeters open, and probably not intentionally. She heads for the berths hatch, jaw set and eyes dark, and maybe a little red.

Andrea's eyes fly to the locker. It's too frakking obvious. She takes a deep breath. "Sir… before you go." She steps forward, her eyes going to Wade. It's the frakking right thing to do, right? Did he see it, too?

Cidra arrives from the Deck 4.
Cidra has arrived.

Wade also sees that Khloe's locker is open, his attention moving to Andrea as she speaks. He notices her look and then his gaze moves to Khloe "Captain…stop" calls out the man in a firm tone of voice. Not an order per se of course, but he wants himself to be heard on this one.

Khloe halts by the hatch, which is likely about to swing open on its own, revealing a grim-faced Captain Vakos whose eyes might be considered red, depending on the angle of the light. She tucks her rolled-up sweats under her arm, and turns to regard Andrea and Wade. "Yes?" She inquires, giving the two of them something short of a glare of doom.

"Your locker didn't close all the way… it's not locked. Best be careful… I hear there are untrustworthy people about." Andrea crosses her arms. "We're a wing. We help each other. You're an SL, not a machine. The machines are the BAD GUYS."

Cidra is just off CAP, so she's still in her flight suit (sans helmet) as she opens the hatch to make her way back in. Though the Khloe glaring on the other side of it makes her pause. She looks mildly from the Knights SL, to Wade, to Andrea. "Ah," she murmurs to herself. She's walked into something, clearly.

Wade's expression doesn't change after receiving Khloe's glare of DOOM. He nods to her and then looks at Andrea as she speaks. When she is done, he looks at Khloe once again and nods "Yes, that. Your locker" There is a very faint smile from coming from his lips as he looks at her. See, in another scenario, he would offer a hug, and potentially get punched for it. But now, since others are there, he doesn't do that. And now the CAG appears! Well, Wade at this moment is wearing just his boxers, because apparently, he is getting ready to take a shower. "Major" offers the man to her, nodding.

"Then close it for me, Hosedown," Khloe states, coming across as a little edgy, perhaps, to Cidra - although she is walking into something already in progress. "Maybe it would be better if we all acted a little bit more like the Toasters. You know, more precision doesn't hurt a unit. Oh, and they don't frakking commit suicide, either." That last little pearl is uttered when Khloe finally notices Cidra standing there, virtually beside her. "Oh." She sniffs again, and straightens up a bit in her posture - she looks tired. "Major. Uh, excuse me. I was just… leaving."

Andrea walks over to the door, drawing it open and then shutting it with a tang of regret. Of course, locker unlocked is just to easy, and now is clearly not prank time. She sighs, though. There is no right thing to say, it seems.

"Drips," Cidra says to Wade with a brisk nod of her head as she heads inside. She takes very little note of the fact that he's in his boxers. Nakedness in the berths is hardly unusual. "Hosedown. Poppy." A look between the three of them. Merely mildly curious. Until Khloe makes that comment about the Toasters. And suicide. Her spine straightens visibly, and she gives the SL and long, flat look. She looks tired as well, though she schools her features of any other visible emotion. Still, the look is *long*. "You are excused, Poppy." She steps aside. "As for Lieutenant Tisiphone Apostolos." Each syllable pronounced quite firmly, as if to put the name in the air. "I shall be conducting a traditional burning of her remains when Medical releases her body. It should not take long. The matter is straightforward. As her squadron leader you may, of course, assist if you wish." Though she waits not for Khloe to yay or nay this, chin arching as she strides past rather stiffly.

Wade just looks at Khloe as she tells Andrea to close the locker, then tilts his head when she starts to talk about how we should be more like the Toasters "That doesn't solve….." and then goes dead silent, just staring at the SL of the Black Knights. The man blinks a few times and presses his lips together, clearing his throat right after that. He takes a deep breath and looks down. His attention stolen by Cidra as she speaks, and when the last part is mentioned, little matters to him that he wasn't the one addressed "I will go" simply states the pilot.

Khloe looks as if Cidra stomped on her puppy. All the wind gets sucked out her sails, and any rigidity to her posture at the presence of the CAG just melts away. She has nothing left but to duck through the berth hatch and disappear into the hallway. Slink away, even. And she doesn't respond to Cidra's words except with a half-mumbled, "Yes, sir."

Andrea watches the scene, and suddenly looks… a bit angry. She curbs it pretty quickly, translated just to a straighter back and not quite looking at the CAG, before retrieving the double bagged head-cleaning toothbrush. "If anyone wants to go and is on CAP, I'll take their shift. Folks who know her should be there, if they want to."

"If you wish, Drips," Cidra says to Wade simply, inclining her head. "Thank you, Hosedown." That to Andrea as the CAG goes to muss about in her own locker. She looks over her shoulder to watch Khloe's exit. Half-looking as if about to call out something to the departing Viper pilot. But she does not. Instead she asks the pair of them who remain, "What was the import of all that?" Her tone suggests a straight answer is rather expected.

Psyche has arrived.

Wade watches Khloe as she leaves and then looks again at Cidra. For a moment, he just turns around and keeps getting stuff from his locker. Shampoo, check. Shaving machine, check. But then, the CAG asks something. He looks over his shoulder and then turns around "We lost a good pilot, and a good person…" to this, he shrugs "None of us is happy" That's a straight answer right? The man takes a deep breath now, looking at Hosedown for a moment, as if waiting to hear what she says.

Andrea nods along with Wade. "And some pilots who would prefer to be invincible… aren't." She shrugs. "But we can't MAKE her admit to feeling anything. Just… try to let her know that its ok to do so, I guess. Twelve hells, I spent the better part of the year alone and underground, I have no business psychoanalyzing anyone."

"None should be happy. Money Shot's death was a waste, and a tragic one." Cidra's does not look at either of them as she says that. Her focus is on her locker, within it. She takes her gloves off, hand lifting to remove a set of prayer beads from a hook inside. Not her usual pale beads of olive wood, if one takes note of such things. Darker ones, with tassels tipped with metal. She winds them idly around her fingers. "None of us are invincible. I have heard the call of the empty places. It tempts like a siren. But we have a duty. To this ship. To each other. To those that remain. We are defenders…and there is still something in that…there must still be something in that…" She trails off, and clears her throat. Turning back to face the pair of them. "She came aboard a rook who flew with courage into the attack of the Cylons and survived it tempered stronger. Many of us would not be alive had she not flown beside us many black days. I give honors to her service and prayers to her soul, but all should anger at her passing. Despair is a potent weapon of the enemy, and I shall not surrender to the empty places yet, to spite them better."

Enter Bubbles, uncharacteristically… unbubbly. Her earbuds are in, but no psychotically happy, ear-searing bubblegum pop fills the space around her head with its tinny ode to joy. The faint throb of bass can be detected, and the banshee wail of electronic strings. It's music to fight and die to, today. Her expression is blank. She makes her weary way over to the love nest claimed by herself and Decoy, opening the Hers of the His & Hers lockers, stripping off her flight suit with mechanical movements. It's almost possible to hear the servos whirring.

Wade listens in silence, finally having gathered all his shower supplies. He closes his locker now and gets the towel over his right shoulder. For a few moments, he considers Cidra's words but his attention drifts to the hatch as Bubbles steps inside. He looks at the LT for a few moments, then looks down at the floor. The man takes a deep breath and nods, if reassuring himself of something. Finally, he looks up again and gives yet another nod "So say we all" says the man. Once again, he lifts his hands and rubs his face with them, letting fingers run over his hair, still considering many things at once. Now his attention moves from Cidra, to Andrea, to Psyche.

"There is," Andrea says simply, then starts changing out of her sweats… every square inch cleaned first with a toothbrush, and then with her knees. Scrub, scrub! Nasty. "But defending only goes so long. There needs to be more. Like games. Stupid pranks. A dance or two, violent or otherwise." She smiles a bit. "I'm still a bit busy feeling saved to get too depressed."

"What do you fight for?" Cidra asks the question under her breath. More to herself than the others. And as if she's considering it rather than asking an answer of any of them. She starts stripping off her flight suit, nodding short at Andrea's words. "There has to be more, Hosedown. There needs to be more…" She watches Psyche's entrance, eyes following the blonde. "What do you hear, Bubbles?" Voice raised to a timbre that will hopefully carry about the buds. The CAG can project when she wants to.

Psyche cocks her head — her master's voice — and closes her eyes, not quite turning around. She's still and silent for a moment. "Echoes," she says finally, throat working in a swallow. That smile looks like it tastes damn bitter. Out come the earbuds and off go the tunes. "Lots and lots of echoes. Frakking ship is full of ghosts." She kicks off her boots. BANG. BANG. Into the bottom of the locker they go. "It's like… we brought them all with us, y'know?" She flails her arms a little, gathering up the souls. "We brought them allllll with us, but still we make more. Can't frakking breathe in here, half the time. It's just. Crowded." She pulls her hair back so tightly it gives her an grisly and unneeded rictus of a facelift. "Frakking Tis," she whispers.

"We fight for the ones that couldn't, we fight for the ones that died doing it…" says Wade "We fight to keep going…" He shrugs after he says that. The /why/ we fight, is a personal thing and potentially, everyone has their own views. "And maybe for the chance to start over" He presses his lips together at that and moves his attention to Psyche and nods "That we did, all of them" The man takes a deep breath and clears his throat "Our families, our friends…" Now he looks down and places his hands over the top part of one chair, just leaning forward, looking down…just thinking.

"We fight because we're human. Luckily, the Cylons gave us someone not human to fight against. Course, the moment they go away, we'll be back to fighting each other again, but for now?" She grins. "We fight to protect the human race, and enjoy that race while we're at it."

"Ghosts…" Cidra murmurs, going from her locker to her bunk. She sits down but does not close her curtain. Eyes staying on the Viper pilots around her. "I believe in ghosts, you know. My grandmother claimed she would feel them. Hear the whispers of the spirits. I never could. They walk, tied to the mortal world by business unfinished. Regrets. Missions they only understand in death. But they are not evil forces. Merely sad. I listen for them, though I still hear them not, and pray to find a way to aid them. And that those I loved might still walk beside me. Selfishly, as they would be happier in the Elysium. But part of me takes comfort that they might still be with me."

Psyche whispers, "We fight because we have no choice…" She casts a venomous look at the empty bunk beneath Andrea's. "Because we detest and revile the alternative." She slams the door to her locker. Hard. "We shouldn't bury her. Or burn her. We should dip her in plastic and display her in a glass coffin. Right in the middle of the frakking mess. So no one ever forgets. Look everyone on Tisiphone Apostolos — this is what defeat looks like. This is what surrender looks like." Her eyes glimmer, gimlet hard behind her tears. "You hope she's happier, sir? I don't. I hope she's carrying a… leaky jar around or rolling a boulder up a hill." She takes a violent swipe at her eyes with the back of her hand, trembling. "Gods, hell is lame. Who comes up with this shit?"

Malone has arrived.

Wade just listens in silence once again. Heck, he should be going to get that damn shower once and for all really. He looks at Cidra as she speaks of ghosts and meditates on that, pressing his lips together in thought. However, whatever he was thinking about gets moved out of the way by the violent outburst of Psyche. He arches both eyebrows now, looking at her and just…looking at her. He sees her tears, the man nods to Bubbles and he says "Let it out, let it all out." Because really, sometimes it's a good thing to discharge someone's anger in form of words; instead of bottling everything up.

Andrea sighs, and sits down on her bunk, still just in underwear. Wrong time to try to cheer folks up. "Peace to her. But lets not BE like her." It's mostly said to herself.

Stepping in from the corridor outside, and looking like he's been doing some serious working out, Malone looks around for a few moments now. Nodding to the people present as he pauses just inside.

"I shall see her body deposed in the traditional manner. I owe her that, for her would have done me the same. But I shall not follow her to the empty places." Cidra says the last soft last said soft, almost fiercely, but again mostly to herself. No real argument with Psyche, though. "There is naught but defeat there for all of us."

Psyche laughs, an unsteady, unhealthy sound, tears glimmering on her lower lashes. "You do NOT want me letting it all out," she tells Wade with a fierce grin. "I'd set fire to her frakking bunk." She nods at Cidra, swallowing hard, pointing at the CAG. "No empty places for you." She dashes at her eyes again, this time with the heel of her hand. "For frakking serious. I couldn't take it. We're all frakking connected here." Her teeth grind, hard enough that it's audible to anyone close by. "She took a leg right out from frakking under us. You'd take our soul." Preaching to the choir, perhaps. But perhaps Lieutenant Devlin has regrets about things she left unspoken — until it was too late.

Wade shows a faint smile to Psyche as she says that first part. Now, he steps towards her and looks at the woman in the eyes "And we'll be here to prevent that fire from expanding" He grins at this, takes a deep breath, and then nods to her. He looks at Cidra now, silently nodding at her "We do not follow" now he looks around the room, including the recent arrival "None of us" A firm nod is offered to that and then he looks at Psyche again "So yes, let it all out…but know that we remain still, and we have to stick together"

"I would really rather you didn't…" Andrea says to Psyche, "As that would involve you lighting a fire under ME." She chuckles to herself. "I might start wondering if I was really welcome here." She glances over at Wade and smiles.

Malone shakes his head a little as he listens to the others. "Well, being fried like that would be one thing," he remarks as he hears Andrea's words, "Be really scared if someone would try to eat you afterwards…"

Cidra offers the faintest of smiles to Andrea. "You are one of those the Cylons did not manage to squash, Hosedown. You remind that there is something perhaps to salvage on these burnt worlds. You are most welcome." She stands again, striding toward Psyche. "I will not." It's said simply, though there is a note of a promise behind it. Made, again, almost more to herself than the blonde Viper pilot. And then…she hugs Psyche. Or tries to. The suddenness of the gesture, in one so given to remoteness as the CAG, comes rather out of nowhere.

Psyche blinks a few times at Wade, sniffling. "GODS, you're so nice I want to kick you in the head!" she exclaims, uttering another tragic, off-kilter laugh. She takes a breath to say something else, perhaps to explain how head-kicking can be meant with love — then she's being hugged. She doesn't flail or resist — she stiffens for a moment, looking wholly alarmed, like someone just pulled a gun on her… then she clutches the other woman tight. And lets it all out. Well. Right. Not all. There's no arson. But close enough. It starts with a hitch-choked hiccup, and it gets ugly from there. A keening, high-pitched wail crumbles like a wall into full-voiced, chest-deep sobbing. Bubbles bursts into a sobby, phlegmy, snotty wreck, shaking head to toe. "Oh, frak!" she moans, like someone gut-shot, dying by inches. "FRAK!"

Wade smiles to Pscyhe and just says "Well, getting kicked in the head is my specialty" Her laugh makes him smile a little bit more and then he steps aside to open some room for Cidra as she goes in for the hug. His attention moves to Andrea and he nods at her, as if trying to reassure Cidra's words to her. He was one that was picked up from Leonis, and he found a new family here. His attention returns to Cidra and Psyche when the blonde woman starts to let it all out. He presses his lips together and nods, staying where he is. He moves one hand and places it on Psyche's back, as if trying to add extra support. He lets his hand rub her back and he has to take a deep breath, because her crying is getting to him.

Malone pauses as he listens to the others now, looking like he's not sure of what to say. Or what to do, judging from how he keeps looking around the room at the moment. Finally deciding to head in the general direction of his locker, a bit slowly.

Andrea smiles, then sets her head back and closes her eyes. She's still too new. Plus, the less she saw, the less she would have to lie about seeing, pilot egos being what they were. Still, it was always good to let it go.

Psyche clings to the CAG, shaking like a leaf, heaving with sobs. She's not a graceful crier, either, if earlier allusions to snot and phlegm didn't completely drive that home. She gets all red and blotchy and swollen, face scrunched up like a newborn, eyes shut so tight that the lids damn near turn inside out. Her nails may leave marks on Cidra's shoulders, but the decimated blonde really only knows one thing — the harder she holds on, the less it feels like she's going to fall apart. So hold on she does. For dear life. It's a long, long time before she's calmed to whimpers, kittenish mewls rattled each time she tries to draw a shaking breath and winds up choking, coughing miserably.

Wade pats Psyche's back a little when she chokes and coughs; not hard of course, just a little bit to help her with that. Now, he takes a deep breath and looks around, at the others. He lowers his hand and takes a step back. There is a moment in which the man does nothing, at all…but soon, he turns around and walks to his locker once again, opening it. Is he looking for something? Not really, he just did that, allowing him to stare into the damn thing. Finally, he clears his throat and just looks at his bunk, taking a seat there. All his shower supplies? Still on the table.

Cidra pealed off the hard vaccuum protection of her flight suit, alas, and her offduty tank does little to shield her from Psyche's phglem and nails. She'll live, though. "So say we all, Bubbles," she murmurs, a catch in her voice. She doesn't try to say much more beyond that at present.

As the shouting quiets to deep breathing, Andrea opens her eyes again. "Could… could have used that a long time ago. Good to know its here, now." She smiles, and glances over to Wade. "Showers are overrated, anyway."

Malone opens his own locker, looking at the things inside it for now. Otherwise keeping silent as he studies the stuff inside the locker of doom.

Slowly, slowly… Psyche kind of gets the impression that she's making the CAG all snotty. And might be drawing blood. Neither of these things is very cricket. She squeaks a pathetic, concurring whimper to Cidra's words, slowly letting go and pulling up the topmost of her tanks to mop her face. "I slimed you," she says in a tiny voice. "That's… wow. Really gross. I'm sorry. I usually… b-buy people dinner before… covering them with my b-bodily fluids… and stuff." Little joke, there. Very little.

Cidra pats Psyche's shoulder. "I will not insist on dinner. I think that would be too near the boundaries of fraternization." It's sort of a joke. She blinks. "It is all right. I will live."

"So say we all" repeats Wade in a low tone of voice. His attention drifts to Andrea and he can't help to chuckle "Well, regardless, I am in need of one right now" With that, he stands up again and moves to the table, picking everything up. "The…/and stuff/ is a little worriesome tho" says Wade to Psyche. He smiles at this and chuckles just a little bit.

"At least it isn't acid…" Malone doesn't seem to have noticed that he spoke out loud, but he did. Still studying the inside of his locker, he reaches for something inside it now.

Andrea grins, then puts her head back. It feels like… well, home.

Psyche looks… rather lost. Pithed, without her anger to sustain her. She looks around at the berths, the fairly small audience to the spectacle of her grief… embarrassed. She swallows again, the working of her throat audible, her face still sort of purple. "I loved her," she whispers by way of explanation, almost apology. She tries to smile at Wade's quip. "Yeah. Well. You'll have to ask Alex about that."

Wade smiles after hearing that Bubbles loved Tisiphone. Now, with everything needed for shower in hand, he walks towards the hatch. He chuckles softly at her last words and shakes his head "I don't know if I want to ask /that/ question" Now, he places one hand on her shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze "Alright everyone, see you guys later." And with that, he leaves, on his way to get a nice shower.

"I loved her, too," Cidra says simply, wiping at her eyes. Patting Psyche's arm once more before taking her leave back to her own bunk. She'll linger in the berthings for awhile. Which isn't precisely usual of late, but it seems the proper place to be just now.

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