PHD #295: Riled
Summary: An appeal to sympathy gets shot down.
Date: 18 Dec 2041 AE
Related Logs: Pressure Points - Damage Control
Constin Corrath McManus Sawyer 
Deck 6 - Marine Country
The floor plating along the corridors of the Cerberus is standard military. Their forged steel plates are welded seamlessly together to run nearly the entire length of each hallway. The hallways themselves are the typical load-bearing structural design of the angled quadrilateral. Oxygen scrubbers and lighting recesses are found at nearly perfect intervals throughout the passageways.
Post-Holocaust Day: #295

With the Fleet engagement underway, marines were rapidly hustling around the ship- especially after an impact on the starboard bay sent fireteams armed and ready to repel potential boarders. During the excitement and subsequent blast, there wasn't any time to be spared for any non combat essential requests or persons, only now- after standing down from Condition One- would a civilian even be admitted to Deck Six.

Constin is kitted in battledress blacks, assault rifle still slung across his chest as the dismissed amrines stand down to their standard duties or off-duties, stepping onto Deck Six from the ship's central staircase.

Sawyer has friends in tactical, is buds with the CAG, and is still on pretty decent terms with Command. Why then she has chosen to come here after the fallout of the explosion is anyone's guess. She's fairly teetering on her ridiculous heels, her balance a bit off as she hugs close to the wall to stay out of the way. "Sergeant…Sergeant!" She calls, attempting to flag the no doubt busy MaA down to suit her own purposes.

The reporter gets a short look of a predictably displeased nature. A curt nod to acknowledge that he's heard her, before he looks aside to state crisply, "Notify the Ess-Four that Ables One and Two are checked," before turning his heavy footfalls and stern eye to Sawyer. "What's your business, ma'am?"

Sawyer makes an impatient gesture, but what would normally be a just a flip of her hair, comes away with a slight trace of blood on her index finger. She notices, of course she notices, but she just wipes it away on the black of her dress trousers and it's as quickly forgotten. "What happened, what caused it, do you have an injured list yet." She rushes out the question to get as much in as possible while she treads on his already thin patience.

"Anything civilians are cleared to know will be released through the standard channels, after the standard reports are made and verified, m'am," Constin returns with forced, wooden patience ill fitting face and tone, alike.

Sawyer flattens herself out against the wall, as passing marines aren't too concerned with running a woman over. "I have friends out there." Yeah, so there goes the professionalism and it sounds like a downright plea in Sawyer's voice. "I'm desperate, here Elf."

The desperation in Sawyer's manner and voice have a curious effect on the marine. His stern neutrality hardens into something rather like restrained anger. Yet, when he speaks, the tone is thoroughly controlled, and low enough that it doesn't carry to ears far beyond the two. "Everyone has friends out there. Everyone. But the rest of them with friends and wives and boyfriends out in the black are waiting for the official dispatches. They're waiting because they know what happens if everybody gets riled up and presses for answers right away. They know it slows shit down for everyone else, ma'am, and they ain't so selfish as to make others wait just so they get their answer sooner." A bullish breath drawn through flared nostrils. "You are not *entitled* to this."

"That's your big frakking problem, isn't it, Marine?" Sawyer presses the heel of her hand to her hairline, the thin trickle of blood starting up again when her blood pressure rises. "You're so damn caught up in this military versus civilian bullshit, so caught up in hating /me/, that you don't for one second stop to think I could actually be useful. That /we/ could be useful." Her eyes close and she rests her head back against the bulkhead to stop the world from swaying. "You'd be just as happy if all of Elpis disappeared so we'd stop being your frakking headache."

"I'll chalk this up to you being riled and forget you said that to me," Constin returns flatly, turning his eye aside as Sawyer's go closed. The Corpsmen are otherwise occupied- unsurprising, given the damaged state of the ship and widespread need for medics at the moment. "There is no 'military and civilian' anymore," he states bluntly. "There's just them that do as they're told, and them that think they know better than they're told. Keep your head where it is and lower your hand," he orders plainly setting about the business of inspecting the scalp wound of the individual who is placed in his walkway, absent more specialized personnel. "You came to me asking after your friends, with the ship still at condition two. If there was usefulness in there someplace, you're gonna need to point it out to me, ma'am."

<FS3> Constin rolls Firstaid: Terrible Failure.

"Just because there are 'them' that are capable of independant thought, doesn't mean 'them' think 'them' know better than what 'them' are told." They /know/ they know better. Ahem. "Despite what you think, some people think I can function just fine in a liason position. /Some/ people appreciate my flare." Sawyer's eyes open and she looks at him squarely, "Yeah, well. You can just chalk that up to me being all riled and what not." She says as to the asking after her friends. It's clear from the hard set to her jaw, it's not a leap she'll make with the MaA again. As he tells her what to do with her hands, here comes the protest. "I survived a month on Leonis, I don't think a knock on the head from some library books is going to do me in, much to your dismay." Still, her hands fall away as instructed and as he fumbles along the hairline cut and manages to make the bleeding worse, she winces and hisses. "Man, I hope you don't pack your own munitions."

"You got no respect for procedure," Constin accuses flatly, as Sawyer goes mocks his speech pattern. "You are not presently attempting to function in a 'liaison position', ma'am. You are attempting to access military information before it's released to the rest of the ship, even before other military personnel do. Independent thought and 'flair'," his scorn at the word is clear, "Ain't the question. It's a basic level of respect for the rules that you don't show. Shit," he curses at the amount of blood in Sawyer's hair. "Corpsman!" he barks aside, "Got a scalp wound here."

Sawyer reaches up to push away Constin's hand, which is just one more thing on the list of stupid things she's done this evening. Coming down here happens to rank number one, still. "I respect rules." If not particularly a fan of following them. "But until you can muster an ounce of it for me, Marine, we're just going to have to agree to disagree. I apologize for being a prime waste of your time, and for over stepping my bounds by coming into your country. You can tell your Corpsman to stand down, I wouldn't want to be accused of wasting precious resources on top of everything else, now would I?"

"Ignoring them when they ain't convenient isn't 'respect', ma'am," Constin returns flatly. "You want to start earning some from me, you can stay put and get treated just like anybody else in Condition Two. Otherwise, you can clear out and be pissed off someplace else." The big sergeant's manner remains one of aggrevation restrained by cold, terse speech.

At the call for a Corpsman, McManus turns on his heel, jogging down the flat until he finds the source of the call. "What have we got, Sarge?" he asks without preamble, unfastening his medical kit in readiness. "Ma'am, you're injured? Can you tell me what's happened?" Facetious as the question may be.

Condition 2 is a wonderful thing and it typically means that the MP's have their hands full, with the majority of them being forced back on duty or pulling extra shifts. Corrath is no exception to this and when he hears the call for a Corpsman to the Marine Country, he's simply opening the hatch that leads into the Security Hub so that he can poke his head out and proceed to look from left to right.

"It's nothing. Just a little bump on the head." Sawyer tries to assure the Corpsman, still trying to wave off treatment. "I was on deck nine when the explosion occurred. I was dizzy and disoriented, and when I tried to go up to sickbay I found the area closed off. I found myself down here…" She looks to Constin as if punctuating her next words. "…quite by mistake. I'm fine now, thank you. I'll just go clean myself up." Cue Sawyer trying to exit, stage right.

As soon as McManus approaches, and begins speaking, Constin takes a step back. As Sawyer sends those pointed words his way, the sergeant will leave the matter to the Corpsman's discretion, and start back to work. He doesn't notice Corrath, and therefore doesn't give the appropriate call of 'Officer on deck'. A good clue that the big man is still wound up.

"Humour me, ma'am," McManus asks of Sawyer, cracking a slight smile. "Bumps to the head can be nasty things. Some dizziness, any change in your vision?" he queries, holding up a finger in front of her eyes and slowly moving it first out to the extremities of her vision and then back and in towards her nose. "Follow my finger for me. What I'm going to do," he explains, "is first just make sure the knock's not affecting any of the nerves in your head at all."

That look down each section of the hallway ends when Corrath's gaze falls on Constin, only to watch as the man fails to notice he's there. This causes the S2's brow to lift upwards and it's only then that he's actually stepping through the hatch, hands moving to slip behind his back. With a slight lift of his voice, he's offering, "Hey Sergeant, everything .. alright?" Poor choice of words, all things considered.

Click click click. That's the sound of Sawyer's teeth knocking against each other as she's waylaid from her speedy retreat from Constin by a well-meaning medic. "My ears are still ringing, petty officer, you're going to have to speak slower and louder." Sure, she had no trouble hearing Constin just a moment ago, what of it? Maybe she's part deaf from the blood pounding in her ears. With a huff, she follows his finger left and right and what not with little trouble. "Just rub some dirt in it, isn't that what you marines do?" With the MaA at a safe distance away, she regains her sense of humor and even manages a bit of a smile for McManus.

Constin turns a sharp look aside as someone greets him and finds Corrath. "Sir," he acknowledges, stopping his steps well outside of earshot (and hopefully out of Sawyer's 'menace zone'), to stiffen his posture and offer a salute. Taking the inquiry as a status request, he drawls briskly, "Response fireteams standing down from Condition One, sir. Arms counts underway by the Ess-Four. Communication between all decks is intact, patrols are resuming with the exception of sections one-one-seven through two-sixty-nine of Deck Eleven."

"I could rub dirt in it, too, if it makes you feel better, ma'am?" McManus suggests wryly, withdrawing a small pen torch and shining it briefly into her eyes. "Any difference in sensation here, ma'am?" he queries, lightly running a finger across her forehead, then cheeks, then chin in turn. "But I'm not sure the dirt would work. I'm not a marine, I just dress like one. I could ask the sergeant for you, though..?" The officer is ignored for now. The one advantage to being a medic.

"As you were, Sergeant. Time enough for saluting once we past this emergency." That's what's offered in response to the salute and when the status report is forthcoming, Corrath's giving a nod of his head, "Excellent. Though, that's not what I was referring to." Hands unclasp, motioning towards the Sec Hub, "I was in dealing with some reports when I heard your call. We got wounded down here?"

Constin drops his hand as the salute is given, before exhaling through flared nostrils at Corrath's clarification. "One civilian, sir. Minor scalp wound, it's being tended."

"Oh, I'm sure we shouldn't bother the Sergeant anymore." Sawyer says quite simply, answering 'no' to all McManus' questions about sensations, making a face at all the necessary touching. "If you just have one of those butterfly bandages, I can even do this myself." She seems downright anxious to get out of here, now.

"Oh come on, I showered and everything today," McManus reproves, shaking his head. "And still you want to run away? I'll have to work on my manner. Screw your face up for me… that'll do. Now smile, show me your teeth?" He rests a hand on either shoulder. "And shrug for me? Last one, then, poke your tongue out?"

The mention of a civilian down in Marine Country has Corrath giving a soft grunt, followed almost immediately by a shake of his head, "Huh .. why is there a civilian roaming around during condition two, anyways, Sarge? Have the medic get them treated and then send them along to the hangar bay to be shipped over the Elpis once the Raptors are flying again." He obviously hasn't noticed exactly who the particular civvie is.

Sawyer is about half way through McManus' little Simon Says game, "Okay, now you're just trying to make me look silly." When she pokes her tongue out, she does a little cross-eyed maneuver just for effect.

"This civilian's been granted access, sir," Constin answers, bone-dry in tone. Oooh, it would have been SO easy to just say 'yes, sir' and leave at at that. "McManus is tending to her, at his discretion she'll be clear."

"What can I say, we get our kicks in weird ways," McManus agrees, cracking a slight grin. "Making sure all the nerves in your brain are still working. If anything was broken, this would find it for us." He pats her on the shoulder. "Stay hydrated, ma'am, take painkillers for any minor pain, and let us know if there's any change. And, you won't like this part, get your bunkmate to keep an eye on you and give you a shake every couple of hours if you're going to go to sleep. If there's anything burst in your noggin, there, it can put pressure on your brain so we need to watch out for that." He glances back over his shoulder, raising a hand to Constin. "Sarge, have we got an escort for the young lady here? I want her under observation for 24."

Corrath was about to reply to Constin when McManus calls out and it's only then that the S2 looks over in that direction, eyes resting there for a moment before looking back to Constin. "Not down here, she hasn't. Get two of the MP's to handle the Corpsman's request and let's get her shuffled off our deck and back to where she belongs, hmm? When your done that, I want to get patrols stationed at all major cross throughs and stairwells."

Constin looks back at McManus as the Corpsman calls that request. A short nod to Corrath, and the Master-at-Arms barks out the order for two of the MPs posted to the Deck six hub to, "Accompany Miss Averies to her quarters, as per the Corpsman's instructions." Lowering his voice to a more conversational level, he nods again to the S2, "Any special instructions for the sentry teams, sir?"

Sawyer isn't about to tell McManus that she doesn't, in fact, have a bunkmate. The only good that'll do is pull more attention to this little dog and pony show. She follows the Medic's gaze and lands her eyes on Corrath. A smirk touches her lips as she does a quick examination of his lapel. "Lieutenant O'Hare." Her tone holds the note of a greeting. "Sorry for fuss." She seems to bite something else back, as it clearly isn't the time or the place. As two MP's get assigned to her, she's more than happy to step off with them but first she addresses McManus, "Thank you, Petty Officer, you've got a soft touch." As opposed Constin, who probably took delight in making her bleed /more/.

"My pleasure, ma'am," McManus replies politely, straightening up once more and giving her a brief nod. Turning to the MPs assigned to accompany her, he repeats his request regarding regular wake up calls, which earns Sawyer a smirk from one of them.

Eyes flit over in the direction of Sawyer as she calls his name and it's only then that Corrath actually turns his attention so that it can focus on the woman. There's a simple nod of his head, followed by, "Ms. Averies." Then, he's looking back to Constin, a faint smirk touching upon his lips as he gives the MaA a surer nod, "Tell them to keep non essential personnel to the proper places. Second to that, have them keep their eyes open for anything suspicious. I don't want people thinking this would be the perfect time to try something." Once more he's motioning towards the Sec Hub, "If something comes up or there are further issues, I'll be in my office."

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