| On the Surface |
| Summary: | Devlin delivers to Cidra the note Tisiphone gave him, and then they talk about the last time they were on the ground. |
| Date: | 20 August 2041 AE |
| Related Logs: | Lions and Nuggets and Hippos! |
| Players: |
  |
| Port Side Hangar |
|---|
| Giiiiant room full of planes and deckies. |
| Post-Holocaust Day: #175 |
Devlin took the first supply Raptor down in the morning and now hops off the last one returning this evening. He is dusty and a little bit sweat-stained and past tan to a sort of deep reddish-brown that thankfully doesn't look like it will either blister or keep. He steps back onto the hangar deck with visible reluctance, head dropping so he can rub at the back of it, eyes on his boots for a long minute or two before he lifts his head again, snagging a pilot heading past and asking if they happen to've seen the CAG.
Cidra is on the hangar deck. It's been largely between here and the map plotting rooms for her lately, with so many changes in the flight roster as pilots head down for surface patrols. Not to mention the Raptor search and ship-to-surface ferrying efforts to arrange. As the next Raptor due in comes, she moves off so she can meet its crew. It's a chat with the pilot, after they're done with their post-flight, that is likely her aim. Though, when Devlin is spotted, it's he her gaze falls on. She just watches him.
Devlin doesn't seem to notice he's being watched, not until the pilot he speaks with points him in the right direction and he spots Cidra across the hangar. He heads her way, head dipping in a polite nod when he stops in front of her. "Sir," he greets her, before offering, "Thank you for letting me go down to the surface today, sir. I really appreciate it. Ti—Ensign Apostolos asked me to bring this up to you," he goes on, reaching into his pocket and drawing out a little square of note paper folded into eighths, which he holds out to her.
"Mister Devlin." Cidra's long-legged strides take her to meet with him shortly. "No thanks required. All assistance getting the base camp set up was most needed." Not that there weren't an abundance of fully-qualified grunts drafted to take care of that. Not that she mentions that. "Did she now?" This missive from Ensign Apostolos is eyed, taken, opened, and read. "Ah…"
"I was happy to help, sir," Devlin nods, lips canting in a crooked smile, "As I think I mentioned. In any case, thanks." Having no doubt seen just how many grunts there were, he repeats it despite her assurance, and then stands and waits while the note is read. He seems curious, but not overly so. "Is everything alright, sir?" he asks, "Do you need anything from me? She didn't tell me what the note was about."
"Ah…hippos…" Cidra murmurs. That is all the explanation of the note Devlin is going to get, apparently. Though she is smiling, ever-so-faintly, as she looks back up at him. Tisiphone's missive is folded back up and tucked into her fatigues' pocket. "Not at all, Mister Devlin. Get some rest. I am sure you have earned it." A pause. "When was the last time you had set foot on a planet's surface?"
Devlin's brows lift, and his lips curve as he asks: "I hope she isn't claiming they're carnivorous again?" He starts to nod at the dismissal, and then pauses at the question, his smile faint, almost wistful. "Warday, sir," he replies, adding unnecessarily, "Six months ago."
"About a month before the Cylon attacks for me. Perhaps a little more," Cidra says. "Picon. As I was leaving for this assignment. Oh, my feet did hit the earth on Leonis. Once before Warday, though that was just a few hours lay-over at the spaceport. Transport from my flight in to my Raptor to Cerberus proper. And then I took part in the mission to retrieve the Vipers from the airbase there, when we returned to the colonies after the attacks. But that, again, was just boots briefly on the ground. Running from runway to Viper cockpit, in the space of perhaps fifteen minutes."
Devlin listens, nodding once or twice in acknowledgement. "You should go down, sir," he suggests finally, "It's sunny. Whatever else it might be, it's sunny." And that, apparently, is enough for Devlin. More than enough even, as he admits, "Not that I wouldn't have stayed all day if it'd been raining, of course. Do you get used to it?" he asks, curious, maybe a little bit hopeful, "Being in the ship all the time?"
"I intend to. I am told the heat is rather intense, but I am of the belief it is the humidity that really gets one," Cidra says. A pause at his question. It's one she does take a beat to think on. "It is funny. I was two years planet-side on Picon. Stationed at Fleet Headquarters previous to this. My assignment was advanced SAR instruction. And I was…completing some personal training of my own." Tone rather wry as to that. "Anyhow. I did itch to be back in space when I was there. I never so much minded it;. Living aboard ship. It all…well. I had seen little of the worlds before I joined the Fleet. The grandeur of it…never quite stopped hitting me. But now…I feel it pressing on me more now these days. I suppose it is a matter of the planets…not being there to go back to when one needs them."
"It is crazy hot in the sun when it gets high," Devlin confirms with a nod, "But I didn't really mind it so much. It's a change, you know? Something different from in here. And not humid, at least," he adds with a smile. He falls silent to listen as she answers his question, and nods, "That makes sense. If they were there to go back to whenever, it might not feel so…" he struggles for a word and doesn't find one or can't choose, instead switching to an earlier point: "I remember all the recruiting saying it was a great way to see the colonies. Joining up, I mean. I was lucky enough to get to do a fair bit of that anyway, traveling and moving around, for various jobs and stuff. I was moving to Picon, actually," he offers, "On Warday. I had friends there. Nice place."
"Picon was a nice place, yes," Cidra says, smile turning, perhaps, a little wistful. Just perhaps. "I used to have a house in the Lake Country. A lifetime or two ago. Pointless, really. I was never there. But…if I had to call on of the colonies home, it would have been that one." Perhaps an incongruous statement, so very obviously of Gemenese origin is she. But she sounds as if she means it. She clears her throat.
"I've been to the Lake Country," Devlin nods, "For a— for work. It was beautiful. If I'd ever managed to actually save up some money I might've bought a house there. Or on the beach in Aquaria," he admits with a quirk of a smile, "Depending how much I saved. I…" he pauses, considers. "I guess Libran will always be home, for me. I never spent very long anywhere else, after I left school. Not enough to make a real connection with the place, at least."
"Ours was nothing special, really. Old family cabin on Lake Aegi," Cidra says, tone still soft and reflective. "Very small. Still it was…nice, while it lasted." She blinks, pulling herself back to the present, and shrugs. Clearing her throat. "In any case, Mister Devlin, I has tasks to be about. I am sure you do as well. I am glad you enjoyed your time down there." It does sound sincere, that.
"Ahh," Devlin nods, smiling crookedly again as he replies, "No cabins in my family, unfortunately. We got summers on Tauron with my cousins." When she refocuses, he straightens up very faintly, and nods. "Of course, sir. And thanks again. I hope you enjoy your time there, too." He sounds sincere as well, and the quick smile he flashes her is genuinely warm before he salutes and is on his way.
"The cabin was not from my side of the family," Cidra says. A little shortly. She looks half-sorry to have brought it up. "In any case, it is long sold now." The salute is acknowledged, and then she strides away. Step a little quick. Off to some duty or other.