PHD #445: It Took A War
It Took A War
Summary: Peace-time rank meets war-time promotion.
Date: 17 May 2042
Related Logs: None
Players:
Mathers Madilyn 
Colonial Pete's - MV Elpis
Colonial Pete's is the long-awaited successor to Kythera's Aquarian Pete's, though this version is more bar than strip club. Not that there aren't any strippers here, in fact there's even a raised platform complete with pole built just for them. The majority of the room, however, is dominated by mis-matched tables and chairs and a long bar. Lighting is haphazard, the harsh fluorescents that came with the place usually left off in favor of lower lighting from scavenged lamps and even a bit of neon rustled up from somewhere and hung behind the bar. There's a pretty decent sound-system playing a wide variety of music, and a couple of low-tech bar games, like a mini pyramid arena.

There are always a few burly-looking guys around to keep an eye on rowdy patrons, and especially to guard the doors to the back rooms, where the stills are kept along with (rumors say) a few private alcoves for those willing to pay extra for one-on-one time with the girls.

A large black chalkboard that once adorned Cerberus' Ready Room hangs behind the bar. Scrawled on its surface beneath a crude picture of a steaming bowl are the words 'SOUP OF THE DAY: MOONSHINE.'

Condition Level: 3 - All Clear
Post-Holocaust Day: #445

Mathers has passed on the soup of the day: moonshine, and instead has opted for something a little more stout and something he no doubt had to barter for. The glass of amber liquid is being nursed by the marine XO, fingers toying with the glass tumbler more than it's lifted to his lips. The scenery has his attention, because what warm blooded man who bats for team heterosexual wouldn't at least enjoy the view? Even though he's idly watching the eye candy, he doesn't seem to be interacting with the dancers.

The dancers are certainly the last thing on Madilyn's mind when she catches the next scheduled Raptor over to Elpis, and thus to Pete's. Rumor around the berthings was that Mathers was headed over here after shift himself to get some R and R before the going into nailbiting mode the next day. Or maybe that's just her? Regardless, she's got a number of vouchers and a stiff drink wouldn't be so bad. So there she comes through the door of Pete's, in off-duty threads, rocking the Delphi Legion ball cap and ponytail out through the back. How's that for ruining the view?

Judging by Mathers' Fort Cetus hat that he's currently peering out from underneath the bill of, Madilyn might just be more his speed right about now. But then again, there is something to be said for the tasteful application of glitter and baby oil. He must spy Madilyn as she enters the establishment, because he raises a hand with a finger extended to hail her. It's a silent offer to share his table with her.

The only thing that seems out of place to a casual off-duty outfit is the sidearm attached firmly to her thigh. It's been an ever-present thing since the capture of Abbot. She takes the signal and hits the table, wasting little time in slapping down and voucher and ordering a glass of whatever rocket fuel they have on tap tonight. "Word was that you'd be here, with the pending mission tomorrow. I've never been one to drink before ops, but when all you can do is pace and fret until you hear word, good or bad…" she trails off with a little shrug.

"There will be enough time for stone cold sobriety tomorrow, trick is to skip the hangover." In lieu of a proper salute, Zane raises his glass and tips it slightly in her direction. "So you found me, boss lady." He stretches out his legs beneath the table, slouching down in his chair a bit and tipping up the bill of his hat with the prod of his index finger. "What can I do for you?"

"You know how it is in the calm before the storm. The papers are all signed, the plans laid, the briefings complete…and you get to thinking. Or maybe you don't, I don't know. I certainly do. By this time tomorrow, I'm not going to have and fingernails left, you know," she says with a nod of her head at the waitress who is quite prompt in bringing the drink over.

"All that can be done in preparation has been done. Our people are well trained, well armed, and ready to go. The only thing we can't be prepared for is the unexpected, and there is no sense worrying about those. All we can do is give them the tools to make the right decisions under the worst of circumstances and we have. So for that, I say we deserve a drink. Because next time we have one, it may be after we've counted our losses." There's a click clack of his teeth as Mathers grinds them together, and then with a saccharine smile he takes another drink from his glass.

"Saying it is one thing; believing it another," she replies with a nod of her head to the speedy waitress who's already returned with a glass full of that clear killer. "I know that we've sent the best people for the job to the job with the best instructions, but I still worry. It is my nature, really. I can't be there, so I have to be here and worry. At this rate, it's not going to be any Cylon that kills me, but a heart attack." While she talks, she dips a finger into the liquid and takes a little taste, deciding if this is sippable, or if it must be taken like medicine.

"Or crazed ship Commanders." Mathers reminds her of her recent stint on the Areion, not like it's far from any of their minds. His words are separated with a long pause as he toys with his glass. "So worry, Madilyn." He offers quietly, using her first name given the casual locale of the conversation or the topic. "But better you do it here with me over drinks then where any of the men can see you. It's contagious, you know."

"I can recall being told that once or twice back in the academy, but that was ages and ages ago. Practically a whole life ago, really." She pats a spot on her chest right about where her dogtags would be, looking like she might have heartburn or something - maybe the feeling's similar, rough though the comparison may be? "They know their shit though, honestly. You all do. Better than I probably ever will, if only because all of you are living it, because you're on the ground living it. All the learning in the worlds and I've still got captains and looeys telling me how it goes."

"You forget, I'm a desk jockey just like you. I was born and bred to be an inventory control specialist who just happened to have a shiny commission that went with it. The most action I've seen outside of training exercises has been since War Day. We learn, we adapt, we overcome but it's your job and mine to instill a sense of confidence in our people that they can do that without our input. Because the reality is, most of them are fantastic at one or two things in particular. Our job is to be good at all of them. But you don't need me to tell you that." Mathers hoists his drink again, as if to say he's done seeming as if he's lecturing her.

"Aren't we the pair, huh? A quartermaster and a sapper, jawing over hooch, while our people are getting ready to leap out a Raptor at insane heights and perform recon on an enemy-occupied Colony. I never imagined I'd live to see the day." She's unable to keep a little smile, chuckle, and shake of head suppressed when she says it. "They must frakking hate me, you know? Rank by peace-time service. Every grunt's biggest fear, right? Academy-trained but without a bit of experience," she continues, while taking a swig of the booze complete with wince, gasp, and the scrunchy face.

"My father always used to say, if you're not savvy about something? Surround yourself with people who are." As if spurred at the mention of his father, Mathers raises a hand to cup over the curve of his bill, giving it a squeeze which no doubt accounts for the well broken in thing. "I think we're both on the right boat for that. But if you really want to inspire confidence in your men? Don't let them see your hooch face." The man cracks a smirk.

"It took a frakking war to make me a drinker…and don't tell anyone, but I enjoy the occasional cigarette from time to time. That is very much against doctor's orders, but…what the frak, huh? There's not much to lose anymore. But speaking of rank, and peace-time rank…here's a little more hate for them." As casual as you like, Madilyn fishes around inside a pants pocket and comes out with two pins in her palm, setting them down on the table. "After all the stuff we've been through, and with all the stuff coming up, I figure you're about due. And I also assumed you'd want to keep it casual and low-ley. So, how do you feel about being brevetted major?"

Zane watches as Madilyn sets the pins down in the neutral space between them, not yet reaching to take possession of them himself. "It doesn't make the pins any less shiny, does it?" Mathers keeps his eyes locked on the little metal accoutrements, as if having a starring contest with them. His glass makes a return trip to his lips, and another sip is taken all the while looking at his Major pins. "Thank you for this." He says at length, the emotion he would normally keep in check is clawing its way up his throat from the benefit of alcoholic lubrication and, of course, their casual setting. At attention, he can be stone cold, but now? Now he has to clear his throat before he continues. "Thanks." He repeats, now reaching out to cover the pins with the cup of his hand, dragging them towards him to fiddle with.

"Now those…those are definitely not peace-time pins. You were on Areion and missions before that. If they're shiny, it's only because the blood's been cleaned off." Maybe that's a literal statement! "But like everyone else, you've earned it. Even if there's no pay bump, or if it really doesn't change much in the 'structure' of things, you've earned it. Congratulations…major," she adds with a tip of the brim of her ball cap and a toast of the glass.

There's a little snort of laughter that appears at the mention of pay bump. "Not as if any of that means anything to me right now. I'm happy to be your second, and I'm pleased as punch that I'm not getting these pins just because you dropped them. You saying I earned them means more than waiting my requisite years to get them just as a formality." Mathers shifts, finally tucking the pins away in his pocket. In off-duties, there's nothing to pin them to, at the moment.

"I'd offer to buy you a drink, but then, there's nothing to really buy is there?" Even so, she does flash another little voucher, and forks it over his way. "Here have one on me?" She leans back in the seat now, and pulls the cap off her head, smoothing hair down, and readjusting the ponytail from scratch. "Don't even remember when or where I got this damn hat, or why I even like the frakkin' Legion. We were from Cap City."

Zane isn't above a free drink, it seems, as he takes the voucher and uses it like a little flag between two fingers as he waves down a waitress. Maybe he will be hungover tomorrow after all. "Mine was my father's. Sort of the last thing he ever left me. Ballcap suits you, though. If I can overstep my bounds enough to say so. Always liked a girl that could pull off a ball cap or a pair of heels, given the situation."

"You know? I'm torn on that…the latter, I mean. I could go the rest of my life without ever wearing a pair of heels I think, but that would mean I'd go the rest of my life never having a reason to wear a pair of heels. I'd really prefer to at least have a reason to, you know?" While she talks, she's untying and then straightening out then retying the ponytail, and gives a shrug of her shoulders. "The problem with coming from some money is that your parents send you to schools that expect you to wear uniforms, even though those heels hardly count anymore."

"I went to college on a scholarship. Guess I wouldn't know anything about uniforms unless they were military issue. There aren't any rules about wearing civilian clothing while you're on leave, Madilyn. Find yourself a reason to wear heels again." As if reminded of something, Mathers checks the watch strapped to his wrist. "You'll forgive me for cutting the short? I've got one last place to be before shit hits the fan tomorrow."

"Of course. You know where to find me, of course. Right behind the desk or passed the frak out…if I'm not pacing." That seems to be what Mathers will get from her as a goodbye, as she turns back to her drink and looks intent on finishing at least one of the potent things. If there was any sage advice she might have for him, she would've said it here, but alas, nothing.

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