PHD #409: Pep Talk
Pep Talk
Summary: When Quinn complains about feeling useless, Trask gives her a Bootstrap-style pep talk.
Date: 11 Apr 2042 AE
Related Logs: AAR: Gemenon Recon II
Quinn Trask Kallistei 
Guest Quarters - Deck 3 - Battlestar Cerberus
Post-Holocaust Day: #409
The area here has been spiffed up for the Delegates. Bunks are kept neat as a pin, the lockers are brand new and have a beautiful shine on the fake wood. A table sits in the center with a vase of fake flowers resting in the middle. The deck has been mostly covered with a round, braided rug of multiple colors. To the back of the area, there is a private shower area. This is just one of five separate areas along Deck 3.
Condition Level: 3 - All Clear

Quinn has offered to Trask that any time he wishes to visit, wants some peace and quiet, wants to baby sit… or even just a private shower, her house is his. So, this is probably one of those times. She's pretty much been a full-time mother with Bran ill, so she hasn't been seen much out and about as she tends to the constant needs of a newborn. Even now, she's sitting on her bunk, a gentle nappy towel draped across her shoulder, encasing the happily feeding Kalli in warmth and darkness. It's being done in hope the girl might go right back to sleep after feeding.

Awkward as he may feel tending to something as delicate as an infant, Kal appears to have a way with his niece. Perhaps she feels affinity for his facetious nature, or she just takes comfort from a sense that he will throw-down and perform acts of manly violence on her behalf without a moment's hesitation, or even that she just likes the smell of residual cigarette smoke mingling with the man's sweat and a faint hint of sage. Whatever the reason may be, she tends to be well-behaved when her uncle is around. So, it's definitely been a good thing that his daily visits have grown longer and more frequent with Bran out of commission. "Where are my redheads?" he asks, waltzing right it.

Quinn arches a brow, smiling a bit, immediate and warm, as she hears his voice and catches sight of his face a moment longer. "Right here… You get spit up duty in about two minutes, probably." Maggie doesn't quite stir from the bed, sitting indian style, legs folded beneath her and a pillow below her cradled arms, maximum feeding efficiency. Or laziness, perhaps! At least she doesn't look too exhausted, having finally adjusts to the newborn sleep schedule enough to be half sane. "How are you feeling?" She asks gently, looking him over with worried eyes.

"Other then the usual end of the world post-apocalyptic bullshit now being augmented by maniacal egomaniac menaces suffering from power-hungry Gods-complexes? Just peachy." And glibly delivered. Physically speaking, he looks as hale and hearty as he ever was, even with the small hints of tiredness at the edges that are to be expected of working no less than fourteen (14) hours a day. Then, in his blunt way, Trask remarks, "Your muffin top is shrinking. I hardly see any overflow. You'll be fittin' in your flightsuit in no time."

Quinn stares hard at him as he makes the muffin top comment, even if he might be right. The only thing she really has been able to do outside of baby-caring is working out. It's helping, not to mention the shitty food that is ever able to be served on board. "You're a real charmer, Boots, you know that? Knockin' all the ladies dead just like usual." She smirks drily in his direction. "And… what's the crazy rumors floating around now? I read the AAR…" She admits, looking almost a bit guilty.

"What?" It was meant as a compliment. It's her damage if she didn't take it that way due to a matter of semantics. After all, is saying 'hey, you look a whole lot less fat' all that different from saying 'you sure have been losing weight'? Not in his mind, which means he just scoffs a little, rolls his eyes, and dismisses her crack with a, "Whatever. It's not /my/ fault that you ever looked like you wholesale swallowed a prize-winning watermelon." As for the AAR, "You and pretty much everyone else in the One-Thirty-Two. At this rate, the Cylons frolicking there will be the least of our problems." Sour Bootstrap is sour.

Quinn arches a brow slowly to him, "So… are you going to give me the low down, or should I actually listen to the frakking rumor mill?" Maggie asks quietly, her voice respectful and a touch more stern, but it's also the tone of a best friend and a long, long-term colleague tired of being left out of the loop. Her fingertips smooth across the baby fuzz on the skull of his niece, but Kalli is still happily suckling away, oblivious to the tension in the room.

"Did she nearly gnaw your nipple off or something, or are you just still hormonal?" No, he doesn't 'get' why she might be upset. Truly. In fact, he even seems a little bewildered. "You said you read the AAR. That's pretty much all the lowdown there is. Seems like Command isn't in agreement as to what the Fleet's next move should be. I don't doubt that Kepner wants to carpetbomb Gemenon, and I'm guessin' that Pewter's not signing on to that. Seeing how Laughlin seems to be in on the whole abduction, illegal detainment, and slow-roasting of people to see if they're Cylons shtick, he's probably in bed with Rudy on everything else. Not sure about Ionis." That being Colonel Xander Ionis, one-time XO of Praetorian and current CO of Corsair since Pewter's permanent reassignment to Cerberus. "Any which way you cut it, though, it's gonna get worse." Sardonically, he smirks, "I suppose it's some small comfort that some things never change. Even on the brink of extinction, people are still ready to turn on each other."

Quinn blinks at the hormonal comment, a touch of anger jerking through her eyes, but Maggie forces herself to swallow it back and exhale quietly through her nose. "I'm not hormonal. I'm just… tired of being useless. Tired of being out of the loop. Frak." She breathes out, shaking her head slowly. "I used to be the SL of the last standing combat Raptor Squadron in the worlds… I… used to know all this. Help. Give advice. I used to be a crack shot pilot in the biggest bird out there. Now I'm just… Mom. Hell, if that shit wasn't leaked… I practically wouldn't know you all even went to Gemenon for anything more than a joyride." She's trying not to snap, but it's there behind her tone.

It's not that the man is unsympathetic; it's just that he's not the least bit coddling. "You're not useless. You're raising a child. And when you're good and ready, I expect your ass back in the cockpit. You've been getting back into shape, been practicing with the sims, yeah? And, frak, Maggie. Instead of moping, now that you have some inkling about what's going on, no one is stopping you from speaking with Toast, or with me." A Bootstrap pep talk pretty much is nothing more than being told to stop whining and instead do something productive. "The call for that shit to be classified came all the way from the top. At first, I thought Kepner leaked it 'cuz he wanted the pretense to take over the Fleet for 'security reasons'." Air quotes are made with only his two index fingers. "I'm not so sure, now. I'm starting to think it was leaked because Kepner wants to wipe the planet clean and keep everyone ignorant about it, and someone sought to cockblock him."

Quinn considers that quietly, calming down a bit, sufficiently schooled by the pep talk he gave in turn. She sighs. "I haven't been out there enough to see the reactions of everyone to the rumor mill… Are they actually calling for peace more so than blood? That'd be a damn miracle…" She mutters quietly. And then the baby gives just a bit of a cry, finally done. "Here… your turn…" She nods for him to come get the nappy and the soon to be burpy little one. Unless he wants to do it bare shouldered and end up doing laundry before his next shift.

Ever one to rise to a challenge, Trask takes on the ticking timebomb of impending bile like it ain't no thang. Pat-pat-pat. Kalli lets out a champion burp, which makes her uncle smile with a semblance of pride. As to public opinion, "Dunno. Can only really speak for the Wing. Overall, we're lookin' to avoid more bloodshed. Planning some more recon missions to get a better idea of what's goin' on. Last one was cut short 'cuz Drips started spazzing out and convulsing. He's still in a coma, the poor bastard." Gently, he rubs the baby's back. "Anyway, based on what the further recon yields, we'll go from there. Whatever is decided, it'll be divisive, and likely violently so." Like he said, Command isn't in agreement, according to the rumor mill.

Quinn nods slowly, shifting everything back into place so Trask doesn't get an eye full of still somewhat muffiny parts of her anatomy, and then she stands up, stretching out tired arms and cracking her back from the whole feeding ritual. "…Well, keep me updated on the next recon… hopefully, I'll be able to fly it. I'm ready. And I hear they're releasing Bran, so… we should have a bit more freedom of schedule soon." The baby in his arms indeed is quite content there, though wide awake now, always a touch stirred up happily when her uncle comes over. Her little fist has tightly clutched onto the strap of his shirt.

"I need to speak with Toast about a few things, so I'll definitely be checking the status of the recons. As it stands, Sweet Pea is working with the CMC to find drop points for ground units. You have more experience than anyone else when it comes to that kinda thing, so definitely pitch-in if you feel up to it." Bootstrap with the baby is almost the opposite of Bunny. One is all sweet and loopy and gaga. The other is stolid and comforting in that sense of seeming unflappability. It's the difference between a playful puppy and a well-trained guard dog. Speaking of the latter, Kalli appears to have taught him how to rub her back the way she likes oh so much.

There will probably be at least one more burp coming, but she's gotten big enough that the massive spit ups aren't happening quite so often, so he might be lucky. Kalli stays there, content and comfortable, quite at ease in Trask's careful, guarding grasp. "Alright. I'll talk to her, then, see what we can arrange. The sims are only going to give me so much back. I just… have to go out there and do it. Hopefully, everyone else feels the same." She gives him a weak smile and heads over to the mirror on her little vanity thing, made for delegates, not military women. Still, she uses it to help restrain her hair, probably going out now that Kalli's awake. "Soon as Sam gets home…" She murmurs to herself, though there's an odd tone to those words, too.

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