PHD #175: Lions and Nuggets and Hippos!
Lions and Nuggets and Hippos!
Summary: A slightly disjointed log wherein various people labor on the surface of Sagittaron. Devlin is excited to be there, Tisiphone is a dirty liar, Sitka is slacking, and Sofia is a wounded gazelle.
Date: 20 August 2041 AE
Related Logs: The Widening Gyre
Constin Devlin Sitka Sofia Tisiphone 
Sagittaron - The Farmhouse
This is a sad and squalid patch of loamy earth, the blackness of which is broken up every few meters by rotting bits of green. Located on some of the highest ground near the Jharkand Delta, the farm went to seed a while before Warday — making it good only for growing weeds. A barn and farmhouse are the plot's most notable features, perched as they are at the very summit of the hill. Those rickety structures aside, only two other hints of civilization remain. A poor excuse for a road winds its way down the slopes, its grey-white gravel partially obscured by encroaching dirt, while a small broken-down water pump creaks idly in the breeze, its handle worn by decades of use. The fields themselves have the undisturbed look of once-flooded ground — before the intrusion of men. The remains of broken tractors, plows, and various other farm implements have been carried by rising waters to their final resting place by the base of the farmhouse. Just enough barbed wire fences have survived to mark the edges of the twenty-acre property.
Post-Holocaust Day: #175

Average lows of 70, average highs of 95. Welcome to the Jharkhand Basin in August. It's early- or mid-morning, depending on how early one got up, and a pair of Raptors bearing supplies from the Cerberus is just setting down in a gust of dead grass and the blasting whine of engines.
Ensign Apostolos is one of those who got up early enough to consider the supply run a 'mid-morning' thing. She's finishing her cigarette at a safe distance, stripped down to a single tank-top, a red bandana tied across her scalp.

Devlin isn't the first out of the Raptor, but it's pretty clear he'd like to be, chatting with those inside and sticking his head out as soon as there's room, even though it takes another minute or two for the doorway to be cleared enough for him to exit. He hops out, landing heavily enough for feet to kick up some dust, though that's hardly difficult in this heat. Shiny silver-tinted aviator sunglasses are dug out of a pocket and put on and then he cranes his neck back to look up at the sky, chest lifting with what must be a very deep breath. He straightens up then, and shakes out his arms, and turns to start helping unload the raptor, lifting a crate of supplies up onto his shoulder and heading towards the camp.

"Air smells like frakking air, doesn't it?" Tisiphone's voice, coming in as the surging whine of the Raptor's engines fade away. She crushes her cigarette underfoot and stalks over, tipping her chin upward at Devlin as she nears. "Welcome to Sagittaron," she says, unsmiling. Her arms have a few fresh scrapes on them, and all of her exposed skin is oddly, albeit faintly, discoloured. "Supplies are going to the barn, unless it's food," she notes to nobody in particular. "Got something for the barn in there?" A crate is handed over in short order, and she joins the line of labourers.

"Smells like dust and grass and raptor exhaust," Devlin calls back after he's looked up and identified Tisiphone. His face, always mobile, usually defaulting to something near a smile, today seems to take it a step further, a barely-suppressed grin lighting his features almost equally with the sun. "So, yeah, awesome!" he adds, letting that grin flash for a second. The pilot's lack of a smile is unnoticed or ignored and he adds, "Hey, Tis. How're you? And yeah, barn for this one, they said. Yours too?"

Tisiphone doesn't look /surly/, at least. There's a good sign, right? Maybe it's just too early in the day to smile. "Yeah, barn for this one, too," she says, pulling long legs into a quicker stride to catch up to Devlin. "S'up this way." As if the large structure could somehow be missed. "Smiled cutely until the CAG let you throw your back in down here, hey?" she wonders, a few steps later.

Devlin doesn't seem to be trying to speed ahead of Tisiphone or anything, it's just that walking fast is the only acceptable alternative to things like running and jumping and the even less-allowed frolicking. He slows things down a bit when she catches up, though, swinging his feet in occasionally lazy kicks at clumps of extra-tall grass, instead. "Pretty much," he admits with a big, sheepish grin for the question, "I begged. Said I'd do any kind of work they needed even if it was only for a half hour or something."

Like an overgrown (and sunglasses-wearing) puppy this close to being let out for WALKIES! Are nuggets housebroken? Oh, crap. They're outdoors. Tisiphone's mud-caked boots crunch softly through the loam and brittle grass, her head slightly downturned to keep the sun out of her eyes. Her red bandana was faded before it ever made it back from Leonis; by the end of Sagittaron, it'll be lucky to be considered a sickly salmon orange. "We're gonna need a clothesline while we're down here," she notes. "Might take more than half an hour to put one of those together."

They're outdoors! OutdoorsoutdoorsoutdoorsOUTDOORS! Even behind those sunglasses Devlin can't quite hide his delight in every crunch of grass and scuff of dry dirt and especially that sun that rises higher and beats down ever harder as it goes. The crate on his shoulder is shifted a little and he glances over and down at Tis and grins, "I can help with that. Any sort of building stuff I can help with. I did construction for a bit. Or just moving stuff around. You know. Whatever." Beam.

"Little of this, little of that, please don't send me home, mom-m-m?" Tisiphone glances over, and her unsmiling features lift a little, some of the nugget's enthusiasm warming her pale eyes. "Yeah. If we catch Shiv or Cora around, maybe they'll have something else for you, but in the meantime let's get a clothesling running." Since, technically speaking, she /can/ command the tender nuggetflesh about — what does she think she is, an officer or something? "Hold the door," she calls ahead, suddenly, as some of the other crate-carriers start stepping into the shadowy barn interior.

Constin might be called a later riser, but only if one were unaware that he didnt bunk down until six hours ago. The sergeant is up and about in the battledress blacks, emerging from that same shadowy barn and regarding the goings-on of the camp for a moment before starting toward the unloading. "What we got here, sir?" the marine asks the pilots evenly, before lending a hand to the lifting.

Devlin flashes Tisiphone a quick grin, shoulder not balancing a crate lifting in a shrug. "Maybe something like that," he replies, smile returning and sticking around longer this time, "Sounds awesome. Man, it's hot out here!" It does not sound like a complaint. Constin's appearance in the barn door and his questioning their crates draws the nugget to hoist his down so he can peer inside, saying, "Looks like ammunition, to me. Where d'you want it, sergeant?"

"Hey, Sergeant," Tisiphone greets Constin. Isn't 'sergeant' his name, when it's not 'the Sergeant'? "Supplies sent down from the Cerberus," she chimes in — it's vague, but it's all she knows for certain. She doesn't seem nearly so eager to set the crate down for a look only to heft it up again. Her back is more /stubborn/ than /strong/. "Just touched down a couple minutes ago. Backseater's probably got the cargo manifest?" She picks her way into the shade — this early in the day, the barn is still deliciously cool — and heads for a traffic-free spot to heave the crate down.

"Birds or boots, mister?" Constin answers Devlin's answer with a question of his own, peering into the crate himself to answer the question, "Gainst the wall to the left, Raptor munitions and such go to the right," he directs Devlin, before nodding once to Tis. "Sir." Then it's boots toward the bird as he follows Tis' advice and glances over the manifest.

"Uhhh…" Devlin clearly has no idea what Constin is talking about, and after a second he laughs and shakes his head and admits, "I dunno." The marine's already checking for himself and his head bobs in a nod at the direction, replying, "Alright," and heading over towards the wall on the left as directed. The crate is piled into place, the weight not seeming to be the annoyance for him it is for Tisiphone, and then wipes his hands together, turning back towards the pilot, "So, where are you wanting this clothesline?"

<Tisiphone fades out for RL.>

"Air Wing munitions or Infantry, mister," Constin drawls in clarification, belatedly. A quick look over the manifest results in a pair of nods, and a search through to locate a few of the particularly larger boxes. "These go in next," he mutters to Devlin as the nugget return empty handed; even the big sergeant not intending to attempt lifteing the bulky box by himself. "You say clothesline?" he clarifies idly.

"Gotcha," Devlin replies to Constin as he glances around the barn a bit and then heads back out. He eyes the marine and the big boxes and offers, "Need a hand?" already stepping over to get in position to lift one side of it. "Yeah," he replies to the question, "Tis was saying they could use one if folks are gonna be here a bit, asked if I'd help get it set up once the unloading here's done." He grins, "I said sure."

Constin grunts wordlessly and nods to the offer of help. The box isn't exceptionally heavy, but it's bulky. "Best to probably string it up in the barn. Don't wanna obstruct line of sight inside the camp- and sure don't wanna give any eyes a better count of how many bodies we got in here, mister. Lift on one- two- three."

"True," Devlin nods, "Though people trying to count shirts and guess at numbers is kind of a funny idea." He lifts on the count, letting Constin take the lead through the doorway since he knows where this is going. "Oh, and it's Devlin," he offers, "You're… Constin, right? We met at the carrier landings thing."

"Less funny for me, suppose," Constin notes simply to the comic value of rebels counting shirts. The belated introduction is met with a nod. "Right. You're one of the Air Wing recruits, mister. If you call that meeting," he tacks on dryly a moment later. "How long you been in training?" Elf wonders before indicating one direction with his head, "This way. Set it aside from the munitions."

"Yeah, I guess so," Devlin concedes, though it doesn't seem to do anything to dampen his good mood. "Yeah, that's right," he confirms with a nod before chuckling, "I mean hey, I remembered it. That's something, right?" He grins a bit, heading in the way Constin indicates as he replies, "Umm… about a month?"

"Fair enough," Constin mutters dryly to Devlin's unexpected recollection of the stupid pilot tricks. "Done any live flights, yet- or you still in the sims?" the marine wonders as he begins to set down the military standard crate upon reaching the appropriate out-of-the way spot.

"Just in the sims," Devlin replies, "Supposed to get a live on in the next couple days, but the captain's down here, so it'll probably get postponed a bit. Soon, though, I hope. I'd like to get the first one over with, you know?" He shrugs a little, and then bends to set the crate down as Constin does.

<And fade for Devlin's RL, now, and then back in to…>

The nugget wants to stick around. There's plenty of jobs to do. It's a match made in…well, Sagittaron. Tisiphone's not around to pitch in with all of them — she's called away during the heat of the afternoon for some reconnaissance in the Viper — but she checks in, more often than not, to see what's being done and what's next on the list. It's not just ammunition that can be pre-loaded, after all.

As evening creeps in and the blazing heat starts ebbing away, the 'idle' jobs start running out. And, like magic, cue Ensign Apostolos, stalking through the base camp with a keen eye. In Seach Of: Nugget.

Devlin is more than happy to take on whatever jobs there are, an endless string of them, from setting up that clothesline (marine-located in the barn) to unloading a second batch of raptors to helping rearrange crates poorly organized by others to shoring up and sometimes boarding up windows in the farmhouse, etc., etc.

By the time Tisiphone comes to find him again, he's chatting with some of the marines near a pallet of bottled water, lifting a hand in farewell as they head away and he exits the house. The bottle of water in his hand is mostly empty, and he dumps the last bits on his head, scrubbing at his face with both hands before wiping them on his tank top. His skin is already past tan to a sort of burnished red in places, the kind that looks like it will turn into an even deeper tan tomorrow rather than blistering and peeling like the fair-er unfortunates. He spots Tisiphone, and waves, still grinning.

The pilot, as might be expected, is still not smiling. Still not /scowling/, either, so maybe the day's luck is holding. Her olive drab jacket is tied around her waist, having been worn against the worst of the sun for as long as was bearable, but there's already a dusting of pink across her forehead, cheeks, and forearms. "Harder you work, frakking harder you smile," she theorizes, shaking her head with good-natured disgust.

Devlin laughs and shrugs, "Something like that. The more work there is the longer I get to stay. Besides, nice to do something easy for a change, something I'm good at." He scrubs at his head with both hands again and then pats a pocket like he's checking to make sure he has something before asking, "How're you doing? Haven't seen you in a couple hours. Look like you're getting a sunburn," he adds, pointing at her arm.

"You call carrying crates of ammunition easy?" Tisiphone retorts. She slowly rolls her shoulders in remembrance of the munitions supplies, as if her muscles still ache from it. For as many failings as the pilot has, being unwilling to pitch in (even on jobs best left to the brawnier) isn't one of them. "Shiv and I did a quick patrol," she says, rubbing absently at her forearms when they're pointed at. Whatever actual purpose and intel were sought, the part she relates — with some enthusiasm, even — is: "Spotted some hippos, can you believe it?"

"Compared to what I usually do all day, which is learning to fly a viper? Frak yeah," Devlin laughs, "Cake walk." He grins, and bends an elbow in her direction, teasing like he's going to nudge her but stopping short of actual contact, "The crates haven't got as many pounds on me as they do on you, case you hadn't noticed." He nods when she mentions patrol, and then his brows lift, and he grins in surprise, even delight, "Really? Hippos? That's so cool! Where?"

"Cool from a distance, man," Tisiphone mutters, pointing her chin in the direction of the camp's perimeter as she starts to amble that-a-way. "Joke used to be you didn't want your husband to be a Jharkhand man, you'd lose half your children to the hippos and crocs." She digs out her cigarettes, rattling the half-empty back absently in her hand. "Spotted 'em further upriver. There's- well." Her teeth run across her bottom lip a couple times as she considers. "Northern continent took most of the beating," she finishes. "You want a smoke?"

"Oh, yeah, I've heard about that," Devlin nods, "That they're actually vicious, and, like… kill more people than sharks and lions put together, or something?" He shakes his head a little, "But they look so chill! Just floating around all day. Too bad I still can't fly yet and go see them." He doesn't look terribly disappointed, though, meandering along with Tisiphone towards the perimeter. Her offer gets a shake of his head, "No thanks."

"Think they're the animal kingdom's fat kids that got teased one too many times on the schoolyard," theorizes Tisiphone, lighting up her cigarette and taking the first deep drag with visible relish. "And now, you look at 'em the wrong way, and they're out for your frakking blood." She blows out a smoky chuckle. "Don't care what the travel guides say. Make me choose between sharing a river with a croc or a hippo? I'll take the frakking hippo."

Devlin laughs at that explanation, nodding, "Yeah, maybe that's it. I mean, they're so pudgy, and they have those two teeth," he lifts his fingers in vague demonstration and nods again, "They'd totally get made fun of if they were people. But yeah," he nods some more, agreeing, "I mean, hippos have got to be easier to see coming and get away from, right? Crocs just look like logs and then all of a sudden SNAP you've got no legs."

"No shit, right?" Tisiphone takes a casual (but healthy) detour around one of the little orange flags embedded in the earth. Here Be Explodo, Yo. "I guess…" she demurs, pulling a slow and thoughtful drag off her cigarette. Her eyes narrow in consideration. "I guess the real catch is that Sagittaran hippopotamuses are carnivorous." She looks out toward the distance as she says it, cigarette bobbing where it's caught between her lips.

Devlin follows in Tis's footsteps almost as they skirt that mine, eying the flag warily, like he half expects it to attack all on its own. His attention snaps back to the pilot as she provides that little factoid, and brows rise, but then rapidly dip again, head tilting. "I don't remember ever hearing that." His mouth widens in a slow smile, "I think you're full of shit."

Sitka has been fairly scarce about camp during the last twenty-four hours, on account of being tasked with a goodly amount of manual labour. It's the downside of having a decent pair of arms, no bullet wounds, and spare time on one's hands. He emerges from the farmhouse dressed in stripped-down fatigues and tank tops, dust and grit clinging to sweat clinging to skin, and a cigarette he's in the process of lighting up. He hasn't yet spotted the pair drifting away from camp, nor overheard their debate about hippos.

"Naw. Frakking truth, man." Tisiphone shakes her head slowly — poor little offworlders, not understanding how it is, such a tragedy — and plucks her cigarette from her mouth as she exhales, leaning forward against the rickety barbed-wire gate the pair has paced up toward. "Carnivorous. Why the frak bother with river weeds when there's crocs to eat? They- float right up to 'em and-" It's as far as she gets; the careful drag she was pulling off her cigarette to try to keep her voice straight sputters out to a burst of laughter.

Devlin catches a finger in chain-link and stares out, across the landscape of the basin. "No way," he shakes his head, looking back towards Tis, though just for a moment it seems like she might have succeeded in putting some doubt in his mind. Then she laughs, and he laughs and reaches over to give her shoulder a friendly shove, "Liar. I knew it! I used to watch those nature shows all the time, one of my buddies had this GIANT," he illustrates with both hands, "TV, super high quality. It's like you're on the savannah or whatever. It's crazy."

The sputter of laughter draws Shiv's attention after a moment, and a bit of squinting seems to verify that the pair moseying up to the gate are, in fact, friendlies. After tucking away his pack of smokes, he trudges off on a rough intercept course. It isn't a stealthy approach: the rough gravel and overgrown weeds make certain of that, and his boots kick up a fine, dusty grit that the occasional breeze doesn't quite carry away.

Tisiphone's eyes widen, and she stabs her cigarette at the nugget. "You believed me!" she says, still laughing. "I totally had you there for a second. Frakking flesh-eating hippos, man!" She shakes her head until the laughter subsides, then leans into the weathered post again and scratches absently at the splintering wood. "My, uh. Uncles. Used to say there were lions across the mountains from where I- lived. Used to tear into the goats sometimes. One of 'em tried to scare me one time, hunting, said he saw one." She snorts again and straightens up, too restless to lean for long.

"I said you were full of shit right off!" Devlin protests, laughing too, "I so called it! You did not have me at all." His grins disagrees, conceding that maybe she did juuuuust for a second, but he shakes his head and shakes it some more before leaning up against the fence again in the fashion of one accustomed to leaning on chain-link fences. "Were there really lions, you think?" he asks, "I mean, there are some on Sagittaron in general, right? I don't really think of lions up in the mountains, though. I guess mountain lions, but those are different." And not quite as awesome, says his faintly dismissive tone.

"Was wondering where you two'd taken off to," Shiv murmurs as he draws up alongside the pair. Not so near as to intrude upon the conversation directly, but a few feet off to Devlin's right. His gaze is cast out over the once-flooded countryside long since overgrown with weeds and dotted with rusted-out farm equipment. "I guess we're done hauling everything inside." Finally. He scrubs grimy fingers through equally grimy curls a couple of times, before dragging off his smoke again.

"Not mountain lions, lions," says Tisiphone to Devlin, with the faintest eye-narrowing and undertone of don't try to teach your grandmother how to suck eggs, boy. Her eyes slide from the nugget to Sitka, watching him close the final few paces. "Can't work him /completely/ to death," she says to the Captain. "We're taking a breather." With real, live Marines on the ground to attend to perimeter defense in a skillful manner, it's left her 'free' to play gopher and attend to odd jobs — and load the nugget up with work whenever he stopped to gawk.

"There could be both," Devlin suggests, "I mean, couldn't there? Do normal lions really go in the mountains? That's what I was asking." He turns as Sitka arrives and smiles, "Hey, captain. And yeah, seemed like they were out of chores to do for a bit. I'm hoping they come up with some more soon or just forget I'm here for another hour or so, you know?"

There's a soft, amused snort from the Captain, whose eyes tick sidelong to regard Devlin for a second before shifting back to the landscape beyond. "I don't know, a delicate constitution isn't going to get him far in a viper cockpit." He's teasing, obviously, judging by the wobbly grin he's not quite giving into. Then to the pilot-in-training, "Naw, don't worry. I didn't come out here to give you work to do. Just needed a smoke. Though.." He glances at his watch. "I should probably get back in there and help with the 'fortifications'." Which he puts in air quotes. Conspiratorially, "I won't tell anyone you were slacking off, if you don't tell them you saw me."

"He's bent, man," Tisiphone says to Sitka, flicking a quick little grin along with the words. "The more work we find for him, the longer he can stay. Another hour and he misses the last trip back tonight." She turns the smile down to the fencepost as she peels a fraying splinter away. "I won't tell if you won't," she tells the sun-weathered wood. "Catch me before you rack out," she adds, glancing again to Sitka. "Something about the village last night we should discuss."

"Oh, I'm not slacking, or didn't mean to be," Devlin says, "I mean, if they need more hands with the fortifications, I'll come help?" He leans off the fence as he says it, clearly more than willing to pitch in. Tis explaining why draws a sheepish, crooked smile and he shrugs, "I mean, if it's an accident…." He scrubs at the back of his neck and shrugs sun-darkened shoulders, "Anyways, lemme know if you need me. I could always come back tomorrow and help then, too," he grins.

Tisiphone just gets one of those looks from Shiv, as he backs off from the fence. One that says that if that was bait, he isn't rising to it. "Sure." Murmured distractedly around his cigarette. Once more glance at the overturned, rusted out hulk of a tractor he'd been eyeing, then he begins trudging back off again. "It's fine," he tells Devlin over his shoulder. "Take it easy while you can." A quick, crooked little smile for the younger man, and then he's off.

Tisiphone waits for Sitka's heavy footfalls to fade away to silence, then turns to watch the Captain vanish into the barn. "He really likes having someone to teach, you know?" she says, glancing back to Devlin before sweeping her attention over the sunset-lit camp as a whole. "You ever let Bubbles go on about flying? He's nearly like that." She pulls a final drag off her cigarette and drops it to the ground, crushing it into the loam. The topic veers abruptly, then, to: "CAG would have your balls if you 'accidentally' missed the last Raptor back."

Devlin lifts a hand in farewell to Sitka, leaning against the fence again, back to it this time, even as it sags a little at his weight. "He's good at it," he replies about the captain teaching, "I mean, I like learning from him. I feel like I'm learning, and stuff. Hopefully I won't totally fail and disappoint him." He scratches at his head with a hand and the snorts, muttering in quick retort, "I'd give the CAG my balls to miss the last Raptor back." He breathes in deeply and lets it out in a sigh, reaching up above his head, stretching as he nods, "Yeah, I know. I'll be on it."

There's a quiet, lurking sort of presence arriving from behind the barn. What wicked wind comes this way? Well, it's not so much wind as an engineer, but given the dazed, quiet expression on her face, Sofia may as well be blowing leaves around. She pauses. Here be pilots. She blinks owlishly at the pair of Tisiphone and Devlin. "Oh." She pauses. "Hello sirs," She remembers her manners and smiles faintly.

"Chance of getting down here again drops somewhere below zero if you miss that Raptor," Tisiphone points out, even though Devlin seems to have talked himself into it. The Jharkhand Basin never really qualifies as /cool/ in August, but the fitful (and engineer-carrying) breeze that's picking up as the sun sets seems that way, after the blazing sun; she digs her hands down into her pockets and hunches her shoulders against it. Her chin lifts a little as she spots Sofia coming out from behind the bar. "Hey," she greets. "You're looking better than Lieutenant Oberlin. How you feeling?"

"I know, I know," Devlin nods, "I'll be on it, Tis, I promise." He won't like it, but he'll do it. He sighs again, and stretches his arms out to the sides, maybe to catch the breeze, and tilts his head back, eyes closing for a minute. Just for a minute, and then he's shrugging at Tisiphone again, eyes on the dirt and his toe scratching in it, "I mean, I know Leonis sucked real hard for all of you, but… I don't think I've ever spent a full day indoors my whole life more than a couple times and now it's been six months. I don't care how hot or dusty or full of lions and hostiles and huge crates that need carrying this place is, right now I love it." He looks up then, and smiles to Sofia, "Hello."

Sofia half-smiles. "Yeah, I guess unlike him I came with built in crash landing devices," She jokes wryly. "I hope he's okay. I was really worried," She admits. "He seems alright," Nod. Alas, as enlisted many of the officers are distant, powerful entities. She pauses. "I'm okay. Alive. Kind of thinking, and Gods know the trouble that causes," Sofia shakes her head a little. "It's an interesting place. And I am glad to touch solid ground, but I don't think I belong here for good," So best not to miss the raptor. "And lions? There's lions?" She goes a bit wide-eyed. As the slowest antelope in the pack, it's a very valid concern. She's the one that gets nailed sidelong by a lion while the audience goes 'Ooooh' and some announcer comments on the lion's prowess. Jerks. "How are you two?"

"Leonis sucked real hard, and when it was time to head back? We still had a person or two thinking they might stay planetside." Tisiphone runs her tongue along her bottom lip, prodding at a cracked spot, before she looks up at Devlin, pale brows lifted just so. "I wasn't one of 'em. And then the first week back onboard, breathing recycled air, all I could think about is how maybe nuclear winter wouldn't be so bad after all." Her gaze moves back to Sofia, then, as she draws a little notepad from the breastpocket of her duty greens jacket and thumbs it open before digging for a pen. "Hippos, man. We spotted hippos on patrol today. Upstream a hundred miles or so. I'm fine. Ache from frakking head to toe, but it's still- better than you and the Lieutenant." And Penelope. But that little bit stays unsaid.

"Don't know if there are lions around here, but somewhere on the continent," Devlin nods at Sofia. Her question draws a shrug and a crooked smile, "I'm alright. Today was… great. But I've got to go back in a few, here." And he doesn't wannnnna. He just nods at Tisiphone, "Yeah, I know just how you mean. What're you doing?" the last asked as she draws out a notepad and pen and then he nods back to Sofia, adding, "Better than if a hippo had tried to eat you, I bet. They're carnivorous here, you know."

"Yeah, I'm kind of sad I missed that. I was worried about a lot of you," Sofia admits. She smiles sadly. Then a pause, her eyebrows lift and she nods. "Hippos are pretty mean, even if they look kind of goofy." She considers. She is grateful the bit about Penelope goes unsaid at least. Engineering tends to have a horrific attrition rate for some reason. She smiles at Devlin, "Oh I see. And I think being eaten period is bad for me." She considers. "I do kind of like the warmth and solid ground, but I have this nagging feeling that I really just don't belong here. Maybe I'm self-conscious but…" She furrows her eyebrows, "I'm not big enough to be a hippo or fierce enough to hang out with lions," A shrug at that. "So we're checking another spot or leaving entirely?" She looks puzzled.

What is she doing? "Nothing," says Tisiphone to Devlin, even as she uncaps her pen and starts jotting down a note, using her thigh as a writing surface. "Don't… listen to him," she adds, as she writes. "He's lying. Sagittaran hippopotamuses aren't… frakking carnivorous. /Everyone/ knows that." She's grinning again, from the sounds of it — and considering the way her cheek's more curved than it was, a moment before. "Considering the… supplies we're laying in? Gotta be planning to… stay here a few days at least."

"I wish I got a choice," Devlin replies to Sofia, shaking his head a little. His brows furrow slightly in vague confusion at her analogy but he nods and says, "Yeah. And I don't know the mission here, the raptor I'm headed for is just taking a few people back to Cerberus. Those of us who were just helping with supplies and stuff, I think. As Tisiphone calls him a liar he pulls a face at her and gives her shoulder another shove before explaining to Sofia, "She tried to pull that one on me earlier. Anyways…" he looks around wistfully and sighs again, "I had better be going. See you guys soon, I hope. Watch out for hippos and lions, Tis."

Sofia smiles a little at Devlin, "I see. Well, hopefully next time. And oh, they aren't? Still sucks if they tip your boat over though I guess." She considers that. She hms and nods, "That makes sense." Maybe there's some friendly Saggies and not quite so disgruntled ones. Sofia can dream. She looks to Devlin. "It was nice to see you again. I hope to see you soon too," She nods at the Nugget(TM). "Be well," She waves a little at Devlin. "I was just kind of drifting around since I wasn't really being called for anything at the moment."

The nugget gets a brief eye-narrowing aimed at him for the shoulder-shove, but it relents almost immediately thereafter. "Hold up, hold up," Tisiphone mutters, finishing her scrawled note and tearing the page off. She replaces the pen and notepad in her pockets, then folds the page up into eighths before offering the little folded square out to the nugget between two fingers. "Give this to the CAG," she says to him. Beat. "Don't read it. And-" She falters, giving the nugget an odd look. "Maybe she'll let you down again before we're through. Say hey to Bubbles for me."

"Yeah, Tis was lying to me about it earlier I thought I'd pass the joke along," Devlin explains to Sofia as he begins to move off, "But NOOOOO." That is directed, obviously, and the note-focused pilot. "Nice to see you again too," he offers to the engineer, "Be well, have a good time. Enjoy the sun." He smiles crookedly, and then pauses, brows rising and then furrowing again a little at Tisiphone. He takes the note, and after a moment, tucks it into his pocket and nods. "Okay. And yeah, I'll tell her you said hi. She'll be jealous she can't come tan, I bet you." He flashes her a quick grin, and adds, "Stay safe, Tis. See you later."

Oh dear. Sofia is quiet, tilting her head and listening. She smiles as the note is mentioned. "Thanks, I'll do my best." Then a grin and a wave at Devlin. "You too." She seems quietly happy and amused for the man. Maybe he'll get his wish! "I think they have us take turns so one person doesn't get to go all the time or so someone who wants to help isn't left behind," Sofia considers. "Probably just depends on what's needed too," She taps her chin. "Oh well. Did you need help with anything?" A peer to Tis. "I feel strange… being able to just sit and think somewhere like here."

Have a good time, the nugget says, and Tisiphone gives him another one of those odd looks. She grins, faintly, but it doesn't quite sit right on her face. She tries, though. "Be safe," she echoes, raising a hand to him. "Enjoy yer frakking bunk, we're in sleeping bags on wooden planks down here." The fingers on her raised hand wiggle briefly before they drop — along with the rest of her hand, thankfully — to dig back into her pocket. After watching Devlin move off for a few seconds longer, she turns to look at Sofia more directly. "Marines are handling the perimeter patrol. All the supplies are loaded up. I'm running out of things to keep busy with, myself. Should probably get in closer to the buildings, though. It's getting dark." An upward nod of her chin, as she starts ambling toward the farmhouse. None too quickly — she's not interested in leaving Sofia behind.

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