| Lost In Transition |
| Summary: | Still new to the Cerberus, Sergeant Lysander finds himself lost. Cora comes to the rescue, and the two have a friendly chat. |
| Date: | 27 Sep 2041 AE |
| Related Logs: | None |
| Players: |
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| Dual Stairway - Midship - Battlestar Cerberus |
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| This stairway runs up and down the center of the ship. Deck 7 leads to the main forward areas of the ship within the 'Alligator Head'. This is where water tanks are stored and the Combat Information Center is located. Deck 9 leads to the stern area of the ship. The main area of the stern houses the sublight engines and FTL Drives. |
| Post-Holocaust Day: #213 |
This is why Sergeant Lysander heavily dislikes being aboard the Cerberus. He's two steps away from being completely lost. It's thanks to the aid of Private Sholty's assistance, or his own gullibility, but a shortcut has turned into unknown territory amongst the Battlestar and him placing his hands at his sides as he looks around the stairway. There's no one to grovel to for help. Idle and incessant noises echo in the background. He checks the time on a wristwatch. "And now, two minutes off-duty," it's murmured under his breath while he turns in place to look down one way over another. His expression grows all the more bemused.
Cora comes from above, descending the stairs like an angel of mercy from—- alright, she's just coming down from a couple floors up at a convenient moment. Off-duty herself from the looks of it, with a lingering tan that must denote time spent on the surface, since it doesn't look likely to be her natural skin tone. Boots appear before the rest of her, and then she lifts a brow at Lysander loitering the way he is. He's observed for a moment before she asks: "Lost?"
Lysander reaches up with his right hand now that he's looked at his watch and rubs his forehead. That way is probably going to be worse. It's not familiar. He turns around to look in the other direction only to hear someone approaching and he leans back in glancing over his shoulder to the arrival of Cora. He knits his brows, just a bit, since he's been called out so easily. That leads to flattening his expression if only to not be so obvious about things. "Just a bit," is thickly admitted, not wanting to. He starts to speak up further and then angles a pointing hand down a ways, "I take it… this doesn't lead to deck six?"
Cora's lips shift and twitch slightly at that grudging confession and she follows the way his hand points before shaking her head. "No," she replies, "You've gone too far, I'm afraid. New to the ship, I take it?" she asks, looking him over with a quick flick of a glance, still barely surpressing a smile, "Or did you just fail orienteering in boot camp?"
Lysander glances down to his hand and she shoots down his glorious idea, which leads to him dropping his hand back down to his side and stiffening up some for the incoming correction. He leans forward slightly and offers an apologetic smile. "And still not used to it," there's a pausing beat and he lifts his chin and brow curiously. He gives his smile the chance to turn into something more amused. "Aced it, I assure you, but," in a comedic, good-natured fashion he rolls his eyes with a low shrug of his shoulders, "I'm used to the dirt."
"Understandable," Cora assures, "It took me a bit to figure the place out after I got here. It's the newest of the bunch, and not laid out quite the same as the others." As for his orienteering skills being mostly dirt-based she ahhhs in understanding and nods. "Used to navigating by the stars and moss and trees and all that?" she asks, lips curving once again in that hint of good humor, "Or is that more scouts than the marines?"
The Sergeant shifts his weight with a slow turn in order to face Cora while he casually folds his arms over his chest, listening to her. He's not being teased or anything. That's a definite plus. "Nah, we all get a dose of it sooner or later. Some like it more than others. I liked the part where my Cee-Oh points and tells us to march, best navigation course ever," and the sarcasm wanes in lieu of him remembering his manners. Upon an inhale, he speaks up again, and this time more appreciatively than sardonically, "Sergeant Garret Lysander."
"I like the ones where you're given a point on a map and just have to describe how best to get to another point on the map," Cora replies with a sardonic smirk of her own. When he introduces himself she turns it into a friendly smile, and extends her hand to make the greeting official. "Cora Nikephoros," she replies, "Tactical. Nice to meet you, Lysander. Were you picked up with the marines on Sagittaron, then? Or here on Aerilon?"
"Oorah," is echoed under his breath a bit in reply to remembering fond memories of boot camp and training. Lysander takes a step forward in order to meet her incoming handshake and unfolds his arms in order to offer his right, taking hers in turn with a comfortable firmness. "Oh," he says out of sudden surprise, but it's better than suddenly leaving himself with mouth partly agape. He wasn't expecting that. "Sir," is added in hindsight and then he remembers to release her hand and he retreats that partially-taken step of his. His hands come to rest at his sides again. "That would be Sag', but I would've loved to have a posting here on Aerilon instead. No offense to anyone aboard from that little slice of Hades, but." He innocently shrugs before focusing back on Cora.
Cora's handshake is firm as well, and her gaze watchful, taking in that moment of surprise. "There are enlisted in Tactical," she tells the marine a bit dryly as he retreats suddenly on receipt of her name and department, "I could be one, you know." And she did not give her actual rank, apparently deliberately. The chances that she is enlisted, however, are admittedly not good, especially given her tone. As for Sag, she nods, "The situation here is certainly preferable. But at least both of these planets were relatively un-radiated and not currently occupied. Things on Leonis were far worse in that regard, even if there wasn't a human terrorist presence."
Lysander makes a face along the lines of believing it when he literally sees it, with regards to there being actual enlisted in Tactical and not imaginary ones. He gives a mental wave of his hand and erases his slight dubious expression and returns to his confident half-smile. "And yet, there's somethin' about you that screams officer." He lets that observation fall quiet and nods to her incoming comments. He goes back to folding his arms. "I'll be taking your word on that, if you don't mind, Cora," he nods again, reluctant to grin but he gets close to it, "I don't think it's possible for Tactical to speak in rumorese."
"Is there?" Cora lifts one slender brow in an arch when told something about her screams officer, and she glances down as if looking for the give-away before narrowing shoulders are lifted in a lazy shrug. "I'll take that as a compliment," she informs him, a twist of a smile curling her mouth for a moment. As for rumorese, she shakes her head, replying, "Intel is in the business of rumors, but I'm speaking from experience, actually. I spent four months on Leonis before Cerberus personnel picked me up."
Lysander offhandedly drops his gaze down from Cora's face for a lingering moment. Hey, she's doing it too, and to herself at that. He lifts his eyes from the glancing over when she does and he gives a small nod of his head. The Sergeant would rather go with a compliment over anything else right about now. Give or take a couple weeks, the marine had spent eight months post-Warday amongst what was left on Sagittaron and he can only nod, knowingly, to what Cora says. He smiles reassuringly upon that. "Experience, that's a nice way of putting things," idle sarcasm is seeping back into his voice and he trails off with a glance around. He remembers why he's in the middle of nowhere. "I - I am going to change into something less formal, and then eat, but talking with you, Sir, is nice."
Cora snorts softly and nods, "That's the nicest word I can think of to describe it," she replies, her own tone as close to a drawl of sarcasm as that cut-glass upper-class Caprican accent can get, "Notice the total lack of adjectives." When Lysander trails off and makes to leave, she nods, but not before flicking a glance over his clothes and asking, "Less formal than off-duties?" It seems like she might comment further, but then she doesn't, instead just nodding and replying, "Nice speaking with you as well, sergeant." She points at the stairs going up and replies: "Two more."
"Could've used frakkin', sir," points out Lysander offhandedly as he begins to head down a pathway, only to be corrected. He totally knew that was the wrong way, totally. The marine makes a face and then turns around in order to walk back towards Cora before moving to rise up the two levels necessary. The distaste turns into a small laugh. His rising requires passing her though, which he doesn't mind, and he briefly grins, "I have this great new shirt that says 'I heart Aerilon' on it. It brings out the polish of my boots." However, he really is off-duty and her as well so he brings up his right hand to casually salute her in passing rather than do it formally.
"Could've called it a frakking gods-forsaken pit I'd rather shoot myself than go back to, sure," Cora replies, "But that goes without saying to anyone who's been to Kythera, I'm sure, or anyone picked up off a planet." She smirks faintly when Lyander starts the wrong way, and then laughs at the mention of the Aerilon t-shirt, calling after him: "I hope it's tartan plaid!"