PHD #198: Lack of Contrition
Lack of Contrition
Summary: A full brig is (slowly) emptied, despite the best efforts of its various occupants.
Date: 12 Sep 2041 AE
Related Logs: Sting Like a Bee
Alessandra Cidra Sawyer Devlin Tillman Mackay Sitka 
Main Brig - Deck 6 - Battlestar Cerberus
Tiny and cramped, the Main Brig seems designed to be claustrophobic. The steel bars lining the three cells have been set into the steel bulkheads on each side. Inside each cell is a stainless steel toilet and a bunk that might be too short for some of the taller crewmembers. The dreary conditions don't seem to be helped by the presence of a Marine guard who is there twenty-four hours a day, as long as a prisoner is in custody. The whole room is under surveillance via camera system in the Security Hub and every visitor must sign-in and abide by the rules.
Post-Holocaust Day: #198

Ah, the joys of the Brig. Sawyer was divested of her high-heels, her suspenders and her jewelry, just in case she might use any of them for weapons. Right now, she doesn't look terribly intimidating, sitting along on one of the low long benches they call 'bunks'. She has a bloodied lip, and her hands are massaging at her left knee ruefully through the material of her trouser leg. "Well. That went well." She says to no one in particular.

Devlin sits on the one opposite, trapped on the uncomfortable bench by the Psyche asleep with her head in his lap. He is giving her an affectionately exasperated sort of look when Sawyer speaks and he looks up, smiling crookedly and replying, "At least nobody got around to breaking off bottles and cutting each other. That's something."

Sawyer glances up to the responding voice, flicking a lock of blonde out of her eyes. "You'd be a fool to think there wasn't any lasting damage done, though." There's a smirk on her lips, a little self-satisified looking thing. "Together we rise, separate we fall. Or however that cliche goes." She gives a little nod to the slumbering Psyche. "That your girl?"

"Yeah," Devlin replies with a nod, "I mean, I don't think any of those MPs are likely to forget it anytime soon. Wrong group to piss off, too," he adds with a little shake of his head. He reaches up to touch gingerly at a bruise, and then glances down at Psyche as Sawyer nods at her, and nods himself in response. "Yeah. Didn't realize she was so blood-thirsty when I agreed to it," he half-jokes with a crooked smile.

Sawyer prods her lip experimentally with the tip of her tongue, licking away a bit of the metallic tasting blood that still clings there. She wasn't deemed wounded enough to be seen by a medic, but then again, she didn't really raise a fuss either. "Didn't think she had it in her. From what I saw, it was impressive. Though, that was just the ball busting part when I was knocked on my ass. Take care of her, yeah? She's a good one."

"I guess I'm not that surprised," Devlin admits, "She takes loyalty pretty seriously, seems like." He scratches the back of his head and then chuckles, nodding, "Yeah, it was… possibly literal ball-busting." He still can't seem to quite help wincing a little, but it's quick to shift back to a smile as he nods at the reporter and then glances down at the blonde once more as he nods, "Yeah, I do my best. She definitely is." After a beat he asks curiously, "How come you got involved?"

The Journalist shifts a gaze towards the bars, but of course there are always eyes watching in the cameras above. She seems to chew over her words for a moment, jaw working with a flex of muscle before she looks back to Devlin with a bit of a shrug. "That marine. The one who started the fight? Was not operating with full knowledge. I don't particularly care for that Constin fellow, but slinging words like Cylon and sympathizer around without a lick of proof? Sits wrong with me. Fair trial. Evidence. Truth. Someone has to stand up for it. But then again, I didn't really get involved, did I?" She smirks.

Devlin listens as Sawyer explains, nodding a little. "I guess that's a good reason," he offers, before pausing and going on, "Or… would be, if you got involved in a fight, sometime. You know. Hypothetically." He smiles, and strokes Psyche's hair absently, rubbing at that bruise on his temple again. He exhales a deep breath and leans back, nodding a little. "I… I mean, I hear one of the civilians claimed he'd seen her around, you know? Like the other skinjobs? But they killed him before he could explain. So… who knows? But yeah, not cool to attack other people over it, even if it is true. I'm betting this is not gonna be the last time that happens, either," he says, nose wrinkling a little. He is seated on one of the hard metal benches that pass for bunks in the brig, with Psyche asleep, head in his lap. Sawyer sits opposite as she and the nugget talk.

Between needing to be checked out by medical and then the processing being slow thanks to the sheer number of people brought here, it's taken Lieutenant Sophronia a bit to be placed inside the cell, the pilot looking sore and worn as well as just outright defeated. Frowning, she looks around at those who are her brigmates but doesn't seem to see them, her gaze just a few feet shy of holding a thousand foot stare to it. Finding a slab of deck, she sits down, back slid against wall as she does, beging careful not to bend one knee too much as she tries to make herself comfortable.

It likely took awhile for word of this incident to reach the CAG, dealing with the aftermath of the Cylon encounter and the casualties incurred therein as she was. But, nonetheless, Cidra comes as soon as she can. Still in her flight suit. She hasn't even had time to shower. She looks very tight-lipped and grim and she pauses to chat with the Marine guard on duty. A short "Ah" as he points her back to the cell(s) her people occupy. "Thank you very much, Private." And back she goes.

Swollen lip, tender knee, and vaguely bemused, Sawyer sits in a cell opposite Devlin, the two sharing quiet conversation while Psyche snoozes in his lap. "Hey, I don't know what the other guy saw, but I wasn't in fight. Some guy took a swing at me, and merely subdued him until the proper authorities could arrive." She smiles, the expression a bit lopsided with her split skin. "Someone has to put a cap on it, is all. Or the next thing you know, boys'll be breaking up with girls and instead of the girl crying rape, she's going to cry Cylon. Or the next time some guy uses all the hot water in a shower, or…well, you get the picture." She glances up as Alessandra gets processed in, and she gives the woman a little up-nod in greeting.

Devlin has a shiny new bruise on his temple and one on his cheek, and Psyche's got one nice black eye starting, though the extent of the swelling is a little tough to tell since her eyes are closed anyways. The nugget plays with her hair absently as he nods to Sawyer, "Yeah, I mean… this is almost the best way for it to happen, when you put it like that. At least it's people just saying it out in the open and being clear about what they think, even if it is… you know." He shrugs a little and then winces, clearly regretting the movement as it pulls on additional bruises hidden beneath tank tops.

Devlin also lifts his chin in a nod to Alessandra, greeting, "Lieutenant."

The nod from Devlin and Sawyer is noticed and she quirks a quick smile, it being all that she can muster the strength for, her body just too weak to do anything else. When the Major enters Allie winces and looks to the side, turning her head to do so. She doesn't say anything to the CAG just yet, however, awaiting for her to addess them first, not wanting to risk Cidra's ire by speaking out of line.

Cidra descends upon the cells. Alessandra is Looked At. Psyche and McQueen, if they are visible, are Looked At. Sawyer is blinked at with some surprise, but spared a glare. It is Devlin, however, who the CAG fixes her attention upon. And there it stays. "Mister Alexis Thaddeus Devlin." All his name. "You will tell me precisely what happened, in detail, and you will tell me now. The rest of you will not talk until I ask you to talk." Her tone is low, but that is never an indication of softness with her. Toast's anger doesn't burn hot. It runs cold. Very cold, at the moment.

Damn, it's hard not to crack a grin when Cidra rolls in and has to be the boss. So hard, in fact, that Sawyer has to glance quickly away and bite the inside of her cheek. No doubt, however, a crack of a grin was visible momentarily for Cidra to catch with her wary Momma Bird eye of hers. At least, however, Sawyer is blissfully quiet, as she doesn't want to ruin her own chances of getting out of here any time soon.

It feels more like a Momma Raptor eye, and not in the sense of the school bus spaceships so much as the dinosaurs that rip you to shreds in three seconds flat. "Umm. Sir," Devlin replies, coloring faintly beneath his bruises as he is called out, and by his full name at that. He licks his lips and clears his throat, and goes on, "Major Hahn, sir, the marines were harassing Sergeant Constin and talking about Coll being a cylon and him being a cylon-lover, and Psy—" he glances down and amends, "Lieutenant Athenos told them to stop, and then they began harassing her as well, and then one of them punched her, and one attacked Sergeant Constin, and the rest of us helped defend them. Except Miss… ummm." He looks to Sawyer, apologetic, "Averis? Sawyer," he picks finally, going on, "She tried to stop the fight and helped subdue one of the marines until the rest of the MPs got there to end it."

"I am told one of the Marines who was 'harassing' my poor, defenseless pilots lost two teeth, has a minor concussion and a cracked rib," Cidra says flatly. "Another will be in hospital a week with an injury to his *groin.*" The lot of them are glared at again. Her gaze then settles on Sawyer. Who she's still not actually glaring at. After all, the reporter isn't her responsibility. "Sawyer, what in the seven hells actually happened?" Alessandra is still not asked for her account of this.

With the fact that Allie has already resigned herself to the fact that she's going to be in trouble, there's no flinching, no worry or much of anything else to be seen on her expression, the only reaction given by her is a faint quirk of a brow when Cidra uses Devlin's full name to address him. THAT is never a good sign.

Tillman arrives from the Deck 6.

Sawyer looks back to Cidra, coming the hair out of her face with a drag of her fingers back through the blonde bob and a quick tuck behind her ears. "There was a woman I'm unfamiliar with, a marine. She was slinging shit and throwing accusations at the one they call Constin or…Elf? Anyways, blood began to boil. The room was divided. The female marine threw the first punch. Your boys, and Constin, defended their own ground, and proudly. The marines got their collective asses handed to them. The situation couldn't have been diffused otherwise. Something surely not to be applauded, but not punished either. At least my article will say as much." This said as Sawyer rises, because she isn't a chastened puppy in all of this.

Cidra is standing near - albeit very much outside - the cell various people are held in at the moment. Talking to Sawyer. Talking *at* Devlin. Just kind of glaring at everyone else. "It is certainly *not* to be applauded," she says flatly in reply to Sawyer. Though, still, her icy ire is not actually directed at the reporter.

It's about this time that another Marine guard comes by. Moving to unlock the cell. "Got his paperwork done, sir," he says to Cidra. "If you could sign for it? Then you can take him." A gesture to Devlin. And not anybody else.

Tillman wanders through the hatch in his off-duty duds. His green duty blouse is flopped over his shoulder with a single finger hanging it in place. The man surveys the brig and all of its inhabitants with a lofted brow. "Brawling. Over Cylons, no less." A glance to Cid and back to the occupants. "Averies. Weps." He motions towards the now-closed cell door. "Word through the grapevine is a bunch of people pissed all over the grave of Sergeant Constin's wife." He looks like he's excepting to get that clarified or denied.

Devlin watches Cidra and Sawyer, not saying anything further even as the CAG basically calls him a liar. His attention continues to flick back and forth between the two women as the reporter gives her version of events, and then the marine is pointing at him and his brows furrow, somewhat confused and not liking the sound of that, it seems. And then there's the XO! He doesn't speak up to answer.

"I didn't know what had been said, sirs," Allie mutters absently while staring straight ahead, the distant gaze returning. "A friend of mine was in trouble and I was not about to sit idly by and not help." Throat tightening, she darts a quick look to Tillman and adds abruptly, "The ones who are pissing on my best friend's grave are the ones who are accusing her of being a Cylon, sir. Without bothering to find out the truth. Those are the bastards who are doing it…" Tears falling, she looks down again and whispers, "I'll kick everyone's frakking ass to defend Lauren Coll's honor sir. And I'll do it with no frakking regrets. Ever."

There's a look up from somewhere in the cell, as the Weps does raise his head via the call out. Yes-he would be the pirate looking fellow in the brig. One hand coming up to rub his sore jaw, before the old man is starting to rise. "Word, should be that someone was being a frakking cunt-an got her ass handed to her, as did a bunch of pussy ass marines." And so the Captain is looking to the major with a grin. "Heya Clive." rumbled out. Well, that's Weps for you-not one to take his opinion out of the matter.

"Brawling over accusations that one of the deceased crew was a skinjob, yes. And that is not precisely how I would characterize the situation, Clive," is Cidra's mild response to Tillman. Not that she argues with him, really. "Just a lot of hot-headed stupidity from my view of things." She sighs heavily. "Get up, Mister Devlin, and I will take you back to your berthing. Lucky." This to Alessandra, directly addressed for the first time. "Inform Bubbles and Queenie, when they are conscious, that they will be here for a day or so. Given the casualties we suffered today, I can little afford to have *three* of my Viper pilots off CAP just now, but if this sort of behavior is what I can expect of all of you, I do not particularly want any of you flying until you have cooled to some semblance of sense. This is the last thing any of us needed right now. I hope you are all proud of yourselves. And I did not ask you to talk yet, Sophronia. Please at least pretend you remember I pulled your backside out cold space not a half day ago and pay me some respect."

Sawyer doesn't have shoes. Was divested of her suspenders and jewelry, and she has a busted lip and seems to be favoring her left leg. Other than that, she's standing with as much prim and pride as she can muster at the moment. "So Coll was his wife? Then I'd say he had every right to defend her name. And it /was/ defense. I'll swear on it." She takes a few steps forward, not putting much weight on her left leg. "I think in the morning everyone will just be embarrassed over this entire thing, and I'm certainly not going to be pressing any charges. I need some ice. On my knee and in a drink. Get me out of here, won't you Clive?"

Devlin frowns a little further, heavy brows drawing down and together. He carefully shifts Psyche's head off his lap and rises, but it's to fold his hands behind his back and straighten up a little stiffly and tell Cidra, "Actually, sir, I'd prefer to stay. With the others."

Tillman leans against the bars and looks to Allie. "She's your friend, Lieutenant. That's your right. But you get into brawls like this and you pay the price." There's a glances to Cidra and the man nods. "Hot headed stupidity or not, Major, I ain't a fan of someone taking the liberty of insulting dead members of this crew. Everything I've heard about that name seems to suggest solid service. More importantly, I trust Sergeant Constin." He then looks back to Mackay. "Yeah, if you were throwing punches, Mack, I'm betting it wasn't over spilled milk. Though I wouldn't put it past your ass to deck a Marine just to see what happens." He then looks to Sawyer: "Yes and no. Charges aren't yours to file. That's up to your commanding officer. Or in this case - me. But yeah, that was his wife." He clears his throat and looks about. "Someone provoked Constin about the death of his wife not two days after it happened? You kick a lion in the ass, I hope you got a godsdamned good plan for dealing with those teeth when it turns."

Looking at Clive, Allie lifts her chin, that causing her head to throb. Stupid headache. "I never said I wasn't willing to pay the price, XO. I was just giving my account." Looking around one Major to look at the other, Alessandra addresses Cidra directly. "Sir, if I may," she starts only to then go on, not even bothering to wait for permission before doing so. "I'm just doing what my friend told me to. She told me that I need to stop being a frakking doormat and to start making people be held accountable for their actions. And, while I do feel marginally bad for going to the extremes I did in the rec room and by breaking the ECO's nose, I do not once regret standing up for myself and for Lauren. Do with that, and with me, as you see fit, CAG. And, for what it's worth, thank you for saving my ass."

"Hell, I was saving that for my birthday Major." A grunt as he is rubbing a hand along his cheek. "Did you know that Marines blink when they see some old ass bastard moving for em?" snickering before he's turning to spit-over by Sawyer. Sorry. "It don't take much to piss me off, but you never send that many people against one man after you ass scoot over his wife's dead name. Ain't right that. No matter what she was, or wasn't." He'll simply leave it at that. "I bruised my frakking knuckles on some kid's face- Ain't built, like I was used to." The CWO remarks, before looking to Cidra. "Evenin' Major Hahn." apparently brig time is like an Aerlion social for the Captain.

"The boy got his ass handed to him by a female civilian reporter, asking you to press formal charges against him would just be insult to injury, don't you think, Clive?" Sawyer smirks at Tillman, made even more lopsided by the split in her lip. As Mackay spits, she reflexively comments. "Watch the shoes." Even though she's not wearing any. Apparently high heels are considered weapons in the brig. "But I just subdued the boy until the sober MP's could arrive. Put him in a fancy hold and everything. Aren't you proud? Those lessons you told me to take paid off."

Cidra eyes Devlin. And the sleeping Psyche adjacent to him. She shakes her head. "Men…" is muttered in a not complimentary fashion, followed by a string of…something in Old Gemenese. She sighs heavily. "Fine. Know you shall not be punished further from this, Mister Devlin, and this incident shall not be held further on you from me after you are released." Again, that's just to Devlin. As for Alessandra. "Do not call me 'CAG' again, Lucky. I am a person, no an acronym. Why so many persist in doing this, I do not know. And there is a great difference between being a doormat and being a hot-headed idiot. Think on that. Shiv can deal with you further. There are fourteen good pilots, good men and women, who did not make it back to the ship today and I have matters to attend to in that. I have more important things to deal with than *this* right now." A blink. And turn of her head at the greeting. "Captain Mackay. A…good eve upon you." Cidra is ever-possessed of her manners. The social greeting seems particularly appreciated just now. She steps aside so the Marine private can loose…whoever is actually leaving.

Tillman dips his head towards Alessandra. "Fair enough, Lieutenant. You got rights and good advice, sounds like. But I can't save your hide. That rump belongs to a different Major." He tilts his head towards Cidra and looks back to Mackay with a grunt. "Yeah. I can see where you're comin from, Sig. Frakkin mess. Someone tried pullin' that shit with me, can't say I would've done much better." Is his voice? Is he jealous he wasn't there? He then looks to Sawyer and smirks. There's a bit of a choked laugh and a nod. "Aye. Yeah, Sawyer. A hold ain't assault, now is it? And not askin me to press charges? Well that's just speakin' to all sorts of character." He glances to the MP on duty then the cell door before looking back at Sawyer. "Glad to see you taking a stand, Sawyer. I'm quick to judge but I must say that you're the single most enjoyable person for my opinions to be proven wrong about." Clive can't help that grin of his. Though he looks to Cidra as she finishes chiding Lucky, the expression fading. Yeah. About those losses. The MP inserts the key to open the cell door and let Sawyer and Mackay out.

"Sir?" Devlin is definitely surprised and puzzled by that, and while he doesn't interrupt, he does interject before Cidra leaves: "Sir, not to complain or anything, but… umm. Why? I mean… I wasn't less involved than the rest of them or anything." As Sawyer and Mackay are allowed to leave, he offers Sawyer a nod of farewell and a little bit of a smile.

Alessandra's tongue's set to full wag and she just can not shut up. "Yeah, I'll remember that the next time I want to kick someone's ass, sirs. But maybe someone should remind people that there's a fine line between being opinionated and shit and being deserving of getting their dicks, real or proverbial, slammed in a hatch until they can learn to frakking behave." Grunting, Allie hunkers down, slouching against the wall, butt scooting on the deck a bit, looking so very much like a petulant child who has just been scolded and put back into place. Grumpy Allie is most definitely grumpy. The number of losses hits Allie but she doesn't say anything about it, that being another bout of angst she'll deal with in her own way in a private place.

Sawyer flashes Devlin a quick wink as she ducks out of the cell, tapping her knuckles against Tillman's middle-section as she moves out for processing.

"Well, next time Clive- I'll tell them to hold the frakking phone and wait, so I can call your ass to come on down and join me. Ain't like I was lookin' to whoop anymore ass tonight." After all their guns had a dazzling performance this evening in aiding that weird little CEC. "Though" Sig muses, before he's laughing. "I am kinda glad I did. Good to know that I got that shit still in me." There's a faint glance over to Sawyer for a moment before he's shrugging, and moving on our behind Miss Sawyer. "You want a drink, Clive?"

"Because they are your superiors and your examples to follow, Mister Devlin," Cidra replies to the Nugget. "Which, it does appear, you did. And I expected better of them than such as this." Alessandra just earns a long, disappointed look that Toast has probably spent years perfecting. But she's done talking to her lieutenant. She's on point of taking her leave of the brig entirely, in fact. Inclining her head to Sawyer as the reporter is led to freedom. Sweet freedom.

Tillman looks like there's something he wants to say, but holds it back for the moment. His eyes settle on alessandra and flicker to the CAG briefly. He smirks to Sawyer on the way out. "Catch you later, Averies." The XO's then settles his eyes on Mack and chuckles. "Do that. I'd have come down and had my share of words. But nah, I'm gonna decline the drink this time. Gonna hang out here for a few and talk to the inmates. Welcome to join, though." He gives a nod to Devlin, face turning up as he nods to the Midshipman.

Sawyer leaves, heading towards the Deck 6 [Out].

"Oh," Devlin nods to Cidra's explanation as he listens, and finally replies, "Understood, sir." He's not about to quibble with that bit, even if he is an idiot who'd rather stay in the brig overnight. He nods again to Cidra, and then to Tillman, though he looks a little unsure about the XO's scrutiny and what to do with it. After a long moment of what feels like hesitation, he eases back down to a seat on the bench, though it's clearly not a comfortable process.

Alessandra's used to the whole father-and-failed-child thing with Tillman, it being something that has been a part of their relatively short, familial-like relationship as much as the caring and every other aspect has been. When he looks at her she looks right back, tilting her head to the side yet again so she can keep her head leveled at an angle which keeps the headache to a dull throb instead of the skull-splitting explosive…ouch that it is if she holds it up for too long. "Sir?"

Cidra turns on her heel and strides out of the brig, without anything further.

Sitka arrives from the Deck 6.

There's a faint smile given over to the XO, as a hand reaches out and pats Tillman on the shoulder. "Lemme shower, an get this blood off me, an I'll come back t' chide an shit." said with a laugh before he's nodding to the MP. "I'll want my lighter and cigarettes back.." said as he moves to the door. Mackay exits, stage right.

Tillman looks between Alessandra and Devlin. Its not an admonished look of disapproval. While the CAG might look pissed, the XO seems very..relaxed. The way he leans agaisnt the bars and holds his shift over his shoulder? He doesn't seem inclined to shake a finger anytime soon. "Copy that, Sig. See you back here soon." He watches Cidra and Weps go with a dip of his head before looking back towards the still-awake/conscious people in the brig. "Major Hahn is mad, obviously. She's gotta be because a bunch of her people got into a brawl and blew up. She lost some people today. I, for one, am damned proud of you all. You stuck to your guns, didn't fall apart, and most importantly? You didn't let a man dive into something alone. You had his back. Even facing down a bunch of MP's, you held your own. Attitudes like this?" He looks around to individual faces. "This attitude is why we are still alive and fighting. Whether or not this Crewman was a Cylon is irrelevent. The point is that you stayed together. Lucky? Damned impressed with that attitude."

Sitka's a bit late to the party, but he does eventually stroll in through the main doors of the brig after being briefly harassed by the marine guard. Sweaty-haired, slightly disheveled, and still (mostly) wearing his flight suit and sidearm, he trudges on up the row of cells. Hard to say whether he looks displeased or merely.. curious at what's transpired.

Major Hahn is watched carefully to make sure she is well and truly exited before Allie says anything else, respectfully. Once Mackay departs and it's just her with the Major and the others, she speaks again, her weariness starting to show in her voice. "I don't like being so angry. I don't want to have to fight. Especially not people I am supposed to be a comrade to. But I refuse to let anyone…not to Lauren. She gave so much of herself to protect us. All of us. And I'd rather die myself than to let anyone talk badly about her, especially to Constin." Tucking her legs in close, Allie pillows her head with them, her eyes closing just after Ibrahim makes his appearance. "Sir. Good to see you."

Devlin doesn't seem to have much to say, now, having retaken his seat on one of the cold, hard benches sticking out from the wall. Psyche is back to sleeping with her head in his lap, and he settles back as comfortably as is possible, which is to say not very comfortably at all. Alessandra and Tillman are left to speak, the nugget not really pretending he isn't listening, but not choosing to speak up at this point, either, except to reply simply to the XO, "Thank you, sir."

"Nobody likes to punch a comrade, but when it comes to something like that, like you said. Sometimes they need to have their dicks knocked in the dirt. You guys weren't out to kill. ..Don't know about Constin, though. But sticking together is the important thing. Standing up for yourselves and what you know is right? Like I said, Allie. It ain't about Coll. Its about Elf. And Devlin. And Psyche. For each other. Speaks well that you're sticking around here with the brawlmates, too, son." The Major nods to Devlin. "Just remember that I ain't giving tacit approval for punching other people. You people frak up? Your ass belongs to your boss. I will not rescue you from charges. At the end of the day, the only opinions who matter are those of your CAG and.." Tillman looks up to see Sitka and chuckles. "And the Captain, here."

Sitka glances over at the XO as he comes a halt opposite the cell holding the pilots. Knights, all of them, by the looks of it. After a protracted pause, he gives the man a terse nod. It isn't precisely friendly, though the accompanying twitch of his lips seems to try to make it so. He clears his throat before speaking, "Hey, uh, Sophronia. Devlin." The sleeping Psyche gets a brief swoop of his eyes, before his attention returns to Tillman. "With respect, sir, that's a load of bullshit. I'd like to speak to them in private, if you don't mind."

Devlin nods a little to Tillman, and shifts against the wall, maybe regretting that act of loyalty that sees him still sitting here instead of in his berth. When Sitka arrives he straightens up a bit, with another faint flicker of a wine and replies, "Shiv, sir."

Shiv's calling out Tillman's feelings on the subject does very little to get a reaction from Alessandra who is still kind of hovering between the peace the Major's approval and pride gives her and the guilt and anguish over the past two and a half days, it putting her on a roller coaster of the emotional variety like nothing else can. "I know, sir." Peeking one eye open, she looks at Devlin and Psyche and then to the two higher ranking officers, something getting her to arch a brow. Uh-oh. Shiv's wanting to talk to them? Alone? Lords, where is the eject lever when you frakking need one?

Tillman snorts, chuckling. "'With respect'? Nice. If I wanted to be called an asshole, I could just ask for it." The Major leans off the bars and winks to Allie, glancing to Devlin. "When the Sergeant wakes up, let him know that I'd like to talk to him once Major Cavanaugh lets him out." He taps a salute to his temple towards the contained pilots, Marines, and various other personnel. "Good Hunting." The man turns for the hatch and walks off through it with a smile on his face.

Tillman gets a small smile in return from the Captain; amused, perhaps, or merely polite in deference to the man's rank. Maybe it's the way his scar turns it crooked, or maybe the way it doesn't really touch his eyes, but it's probably not the former. Once the XO turns to go, he begins digging for his pack of cigarettes; Devlin's addressed first, "I heard from Cidra that you all got yourselves into a bit of trouble. Don't worry—" He holds up his palm briefly. "I'm not here to lecture you. But I'm not, uh.." More rummaging. "..I'm not going to tell you it was valiant and admirable, either. It wasn't. I was, believe it or not, a hotheaded young jock once, too." He flashes a brief grin. And finally digs out his smokes.

"I appreciate the Major's feelings on this," Allie sais. Of course she's a hair biased, seeing as how she recieved a fair amount of Tillman's pride and what not, the woman reduced to being a girl who gleefully clings to her father's praise as a result. "But I also understand your feelings too, Captain." Watching Tillman now that she has said that, she turns one ear towards him and the other towards her fellow pilots, her attention neatly divided down along the middle.

Devlin nods to Tillman, replying, "Will do, sir," to that direction before saluting in return (though without rising). He is silent as the XO leaves and as Sitka speaks, just nodding at the captain's words and making no attempt to interrupt. He smiles a little, crookedly, and shrugs, "They hit Ps—Bubbles, sir," as if that explains it. Maybe it does. He adds after a moment, "But I understand."

Tillman leaves, heading towards the Deck 6 [Out].

"I'm sure I would too, if the XO was condoning my shitty behaviour with glowing praise," Shiv answers bemusedly. Not yet lighting his cigarette, he darts a glance at the clock on the opposite wall, then looks back to the incarcerated pilots. Devlin, in particular, when he mentions Psyche. Offered almost gently, and without the sharpness that one might expect, "Doesn't excuse it, and you know that." Back to Allie, "And you should, doubly so. I expected more from you." His admonishment ends there, upon an tired-sounding sigh. "I've got some duty reports to get done. Don't see any reason you all should be wasting space in here, so I'll, uh, I'll see if I can get you released to quarters."

Alessandra takes a deep breath in; that is exactly the kind of reaction she expected to get from the Captain but it still stings regardless of the fact that she did. "Like I said to the CAG, I am sorry that I took it to such extremes but at the same time, sir, I think I can safely say I'd do it again if the same circumstances were to present themselves." Slowly getting to her feet, Allie wobbles once she's fully upright, her head swimming something awful. "I don't know if I'd be any better off in the berths, sir. Seems some people have taken to consider some of us Cylon lovers, me being one of them. But if you think arrest to the berths is for the best…thank you." Taking a few steps, Allie mumbles something about needing sleep. The cot that is undoubtedly provided for those detained is laid out upon, Allie saving as much room as she can for someone else, and then, with a quickly muttered, "…goodnight…" she starts to drift off.

"I suppose I could've picked her up and made a run for it," Devlin replies to Sitka, only partially joking. He seems resigned to his current situation and its consequences, glancing over at Alessandra as she speaks, and adding nothing as he looks back to Sitka. Not on the matter of whether he'd do it all the same again, at least. As for getting released, he nods, "I'd appreciate it if you did, sir. I didn't want to go and leave the rest of them here, but… I think even the floor in the berths's more comfortable than this bench."

Sitka also has no reply to Alessandra's maintaining that she'd 'do it over again'. He tucks the cigarette between his lips, lights it, and levels a long look at the back of her head as she drifts off to her cot. Mulling something, perhaps. Blue eyes flick back to Devlin after he's dragged off the smoke, and gives a slight shake of his head. "Like I said, I'm not here to lecture you about it. I'm sure you've already been treated to the usual procession of brass. Just.." He doesn't finish that thought. "There should be someone by to let you two out shortly. Quarters for the remainder of fourty-eight hours, and all that. And make sure she-" Psyche's indicated. "-gets herself up to medical, if she hasn't already." With that, he glances at the clock again and turns to amble back out.

Devlin waits while Sitka mulls and then just nods to the captain, replying, "Yes, sir." And then again as Psyche is pointed at, "Will do, sir." He frowns a little then, somewhat thoughtfully, as if something has just occurred to him and he is mulling it over. He looks up like he might call after Sitka, but then decides not to, sitting back to await release paperwork, instead.

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