BCH #009: Weapons Check
Weapons Check
Summary: Bringing his fencing equipment to the security hub to check it in, Petroski meets Sergeant Demos and an arrangement is struck.
Date: 2-16-41
Related Logs: None
Demos Petroski 

Security Hub -

(desc to be added)

It's not often that a civilian comes into this neck of the woods unless in trouble, but here is Petroski, shuffling in with what is a large duffle bag along with several other smaller duffle-like cases, those equaling three in number. Not sure where to go or who it is he should be talking to now that he is here, he takes a breath while looking around.

The security hub is a study in quiet efficiency at the moment. A guard stands on duty, rifle crossed over his chest. A Sergeant sits at a forward desk filling out paperwork and observing several stations. She looks up as the gentleman enters and half smiles, "Welcome to Security, sir. How can we help you?" The bags get a curious look that lingers a bit before she looks up at the man again.

"Ah. 'ello, love. I've been told that I need to check in my fencing gear with you good people. You know. Make sure everything is on th' up and up." With this being anything but official, Daniel lays on the charm, complete with a swagger that matches his grin. "I don' think y'all will need to keep the protective gear although if you want a dog or somethin' to sniff and make sure it's clean I'll understand. It's these babies that I believe you'll want to keep a tabs on, yes?" As he gets to the last part of his explanation he starts unzipping the three smaller cases, letting Demos get the first glimpse of his fencing foils.

Demos lifts a brow just slightly, "Forgive me, sir. I am Sergeant Demos." She graciously allows that the 'love' might be due to her failure to introduce herself. As the man continues, she closes the files she has been working on and moves them to one side. She nods, motioning for the guard to move closer. He does so, shifting his gun to an alert position. Demos motions then to the desk, "If you would please put the cases here, sir? I will have you fill out a deposit form." She glances at the larger duffle and then adds, "I will definitely need to have a look through that, sir. The foils? We will keep them here. When you wish to use them, you will need to check them out and someone will escort you to the gym and back again to check them in."

Daniel nods and begins to place the foil cases where the Sergeant requests him to, each one opened while he looks over his shoulder, catching the motion of the guard as he drifts closer and postures on the ready like he does. "Heh. Easy there, big boy. I'm not going to do anyone any harm, 'ere." When the last case is opened he steps back, kneels down and unzips the larger bag, everything on the up and up as far as his behavior goes. If there's one thing to be noted about everything he has brought with him it's that everything is kept in the best condition possible, each piece of protective clothing and each foil looking as if they're brand new.

Demos removes a digital camera from a drawer. As each case is opened, the Sergeant takes a snapshot of the contents. "Just protocol, sir. Any time anyone brings potentially sharp implements into the Security Hub." She works with a meticulous care and thoroughness that shows that she has done this before. Perhaps, if her words are taken as an indicator, she has. As the final case is opened, she nods to the guard who eases back a little. Demos moves closer to take the pictures of the open case. When she finishes, sets the camera to one side. "Please empty the first case, sir. I will do a visual, then sensory examination of the case, then its contents."

"Of course," Petroski murmurs easily while slipping the item out and then placing it to the side. "I do understand protocol. I live by it, after all." Where the charm's still exhibited the accent's stowed for now, leaving him a lot more easily understood. "Is there anyone I should ask for in particular when I need an escort or will whomever is available at the time be assigned to escort me to and from the gym?"

Demos glances up at the man and a half smile touches her lips, "Good to hear, sir. Not many civilians understand the need." She looks down at the case, then pulls a pen and form to her. Writing, she takes note of everything that you have removed from the case. Then, fingers gentle, she examines the empty case. After a moment, it becomes clear that she is looking for secret compartments or other nefarious things. "Hmmm. You can do either one, actually, though I cannot imagine that you would have a preference. It might be best if you call down first to be sure someone is available. Or, send a schedule down so we can try to accommodate you." When she finishes with the case, she begins on the contents. "Would you please sign to certify that I have listed the contents accurately?"

Petroski takes the pen and signs his John Hancock upon it, giving it one quick look-over which is habit for him. "I don't think I'll have much of a schedule to adhere to so I'll just call or come by." Signature left in it's proper place, he waits for further instruction from the lady Marine.

One case down and two to go. She nods, looking up at the man once more, briefly. Gently repacking the case, she turns to a printer. Plugging the camera in, she extracts the images of the cases and, taking the signed form, staples them together. These are set aside and she turns to the next one. Once more, she gestures for the cases to be unpacked. "If you please." Then, soft laughter begins, "Oh, but surely you will have meetings to go to. People to see. All of that takes more time than you might realize." Looking down, she carefully repacks case one and closes it gently, "Have you been on a battlestar before?"

Daniel repeats the process without being verbally asked to, the second case opened and emptied just as the first was. "Of course I have meetings but outside of that I really don't have much to do besides being escorted by the fine men and women of the Colonial Marines and enjoying my fumarella as much as possible." A hand is raised and he itches the bridge of his nose, doing so to mask the grin that's suddenly springing to life. "Have I…oh, no. This is my first time, actually," he adds softly, his free hand moved to gesture to the ship as a whole. "Does it show?"

And the process is repeated. The woman examines the case and the contents before repacking them. She repeats the steps with the picture and form detailing the contents. "Please sign here, sir." More softly, more thoughtfully, she shakes her head, "Not so much, no. It's just that… You seem a little too comfortable. It is the way people who are generally confident in themselves handle new situations. Almost always a bit of an act, sir. If you will forgive the observation." She closes the case and sets it with the first.

Petroski signs a second time, this time adding a playful swooping of a flourish to the in his last name. "I do? I don't know, Sergeant. I'm simply being me, to be honest. Is it an act? Maybe. But if it is it's one I've been putting on since I was a child." The third case is opened and the foil set out, it placed along the other cases.

Demos chuckles at that, "Yes, maybe. But, without the ooohing and ahhhing at all the shiny newness. Which is what I meant, I suppose." She falls silent again as she examines the insides of the third case. This, before she takes up the foil. Turning, she angles the blade this way and that, careful to keep the tip ever away from everyone. Her fingers move over the grip, pommel and guard. Then, with a sigh that is almost wistful, she returns it to the case. The third set of paperwork is filled out, the third image stapled. This is offered for your signature. "We will keep these in a locker here, sir. If you will give me a moment, I will get you a key."

Petroski ahs and shakes his head, that directed to himself. "I see what you're saying, now. Yes, it is my first Battlestar. I guess I'm just not as easily awed as I used to be." The look and touch from Demos is caught and he can't help but to smile, perhaps getting a gist of what that's all about. "Is something wrong," he asks easily as he nods as well, that being over the key.

Demos says, "Uh. No, sir. Nothing is wrong." She smiles again, "Beautiful, isn't she? Cerberus, I mean. Brand new and hot off the presses, as they say." With that, she rises. Taking two of the cases, she motions for another Marine to take the third. A locker is selected and opened. The equipment is carefully stowed and the other Marine moves off. Demos closes the locker and locks it. Two keys are brought forward. The paperwork for all three cases is placed in a folder. There are numbers etched in the keys and these are entered in a log, then on a page on the inside of the folder. One key is then placed in a box within the drawer. The box is locked, then the drawer is locked. The second key is placed on a smallish metal ring and offered to you, "Please do not lose this, sir. There is a fee for replacing it and both are needed to reopen that locker." She watches for a moment, then adds, "Are you a good fencer, sir?""

"She's pretty enough. Kind of hard for me to look at the ship as something of beauty, though…hazards of looking around and seeing nothing but cubit signs." The key's put away and then, with a tilt of his hand, he answers Demos' question. "I'm alright," he murmurs, managing to be modest in his reply, "Used to compete but haven't in a very long time. Am hoping to get some practice in while I'm aboard, though. Do you? Fence, that is."

Demos glances up at the interior of the ship, her smile fading to something slightly ethereal, "She is, though. You should take some time and go up to the Obs deck." The look does not last, for the Marine is a practical woman. Looking back, she tilts her head to one side and the smile firms, "Ah, I see. Getting back into it. Good for you." Slowly, then, she shakes her head, "No, sir. It was not considered a woman's sport in my home. Though my brother is supposed to be good at it." Her tone takes on a faintly clipped sound, though it is clear that she is fond of her sibling.

"Oh, I've been there. The view was lovely, yes. I'm just still not sure what to make of the ship itself." Tapping his chin, Daniel looks at her before adding softly, "I could teach you but sadly all my gear is too large and it'd be unsafe for me to loan it to you. If you'd like, though, I can get your various sizes and have Richard get a set of fencing gear and a foil for you."

One of the Marines passing gives the fellow a once over, then winks at Demos. The woman is a bit taller than Demos is and leans over to whisper something. Demos turns and glares, though a blush tinges her cheeks. The other Marine saunters off and Demos looks back to the man, "That is very kind of you, sir and I would love to learn. But, that is asking a bit much, truly. I am sure that I can put together suitable armor from our riot gear. I might be better armed than you are, even if it is not regulation for the sport." Which means? Apparently she is going to take him up on the offer to be taught.

Petroski purses his lips. Normally he'd balk at the suggestion but if that's what she's going to do then…"Alright but if you get hurt I am not the responsible party. Understood?" Disclaimer given, he looks around before nodding, seemingly pleased with the agreement. "And keep in mind that I am not a teacher. I am simply a competitor, nothing more."

Demos says, "That will not be a problem, sir." She rises then and signs a sheet on one side of the desk. "And agreed. Maybe we will get lucky and each learn something." That handled, she turns back to the visitor, "Do you need assistance finding the guest quarters, sir? I am sure that I can find someone to escort you. As civilians are not to be out of certain areas. For your own safety, sir.""

Petroski clears his throat. "Well, yes. Perhaps we can do just that." Angling his head, a habit it seems for how much he does it, he gestures to the big guy who has been making sure there was no tomfoolery on Daniel's part. "I could use an escort, yes. Thank you for your time, Sergeant Demos." He grabs for whatever didn't need to be locked away and begins to drift hatch-wards, leaving whomever shall be accompanying him to the third deck to hurry and catch up.

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