ALT #422: A Tense Breakfast
A Tense Breakfast
Summary: Tensions become apparent in the Mess.
Date: 04/Mar/2014
Related Logs: None specific
Toby Warren Thomas 
Mess Hall - Deck 3 - Battlestar Orion
The Crew Mess on the Orion is one of the larger rooms meant for occupation. The room is far longer than it is wide with the classic stainless steel tables that can be seen anywhere else on the ship, standard to all navy ships. Most of the chairs match, their padding on the seats worn down after several years. Towards the rear of the room is the food prep area and serving lines. During the time in between meals the Mess will serve midrats, or 'mid-shift rations', such as sandwiches and drinks. Coffee pots are left to run at all hours to keep people going as needed.
AWD #422

It's morning, breakfast time in the mess and the place is busy. Not usually the quietest time of the day by any stretch, it's fair to say though that this sittings seems to be noiser than average, with various conversations going off around the various tables and lots of opions vying to be heard about others. There's talk of a rescued, or maybe dead, battlestar, there's talk of marine snatch squads targetting skinjobs on other colonies, there's talk of the as of yet unsolved explosions and over towards the rubbish bins there's a table half full of knuckledraggers refusing to let a couple of marines sit for an as of yet unspecified reason. Tensions, as they say, are high.

And striding into the mess of tension is a rather tense looking viper captain. With his flight suit pulled down around his waist he heads over towards the mess lines. Probably not his best idea in retrospect as some pore schmuck ensign decides now is certainly the best time to ask the Captain which battlestar they rescued was, how the spirits of its crew are, when they'll be rendevouing with the Orion. Warrens jaw tenses, as does his hands around his tray trying to ignore the ensign for the moment as he starts to load his tray with some food. Warren finally stops and looks at the ensign, well glares is probably a more apt description, and states, "Ensign, I swear to the gods if you ask one more fraking question you'll be cleaning the head with your toothbrush." He isn't even halfway through the line and he pulls off it, leaving the rather stunned ensign behind, and heads straight for the coffee now with his halffull plate of food. And then its time to find a seat somewhere in this mess.

Sitting with his work-mates, Toby is currently working on ignoring the protests of the marine pair while keeping one foot wrapped around the leg of the free chair across from him to stop them from pulling it out and sitting down. Not that he's the only one mind, but the deckies are all making a show of eating their food and conversing amongst themselves about work, in a way that pointedly excludes the jar-heads. "One viper bag unscratched I heard," and "unsure on the rest, busy day though I reckon" being prety par for the course before it devolves into more technical speculation over just hwat work might need to be done.

Seated, alone, off in one corner, the Airwing corner if you will, is Thomas. The normally jovial, youthful pilot is sitting quietly, staring at his coffee.

A seat…a seat, there has to be a seat somewhere where Warren isn't going to want to pretend he's Toby. Ah! Over there with Toby! Warren knows theres nothing that brightens Toby's day like some Viper pilot sitting at his table. He gives a nod to the marines there trying to get the seat and sets his tray down, "Thanks Shakelton for saving me the seat. Appreciate it." Theres a glance to the Marines, "Sorry Marines seat's taken."

Toby eyes Warren for a moment, then unhooks his foot from the chair so the pilot can sit. Not perhaps his ideal tablemate, but it'll still make the point to the marines that they aren't welcome, so he can live with that. "Morning Captain," he replies with a short nod, "have a seat." He's mildly tempted to add something else, to counter the impression that he was saving the seat rather than just denying it to others, but can't immediately think of anything short and biting enough so leaves it unsaid. Thankfully though, the jarheads seem to finally give up and go find another place to sit. Glancing back to the pilot, the deckie eyes him for a moment then asks, "we going to be busy today?"

Warren waits for the marines to go before he slides out the chair and takes a seat. "Side from a reload and refule on my viper, not on mine. The others though are gonna need a little more work," Warren says as he takes a bite of his food, then a sip of his coffee. Theres a pause, "In a few days though I imagine you'll be swamped. I mean I'm sure you've heard the rumors by now." Theres a somber tone there as he keeps eating, "And don't worry if you were actually savin this for someone else I'll let'm have it. Just figured you wouldn't mind the rescue from the marines."

Toby nods as the answer is given, then again at the question about tumours. "Heard a few, but I figure from the lack of a party atmosphere," he tilts hi head over towards Thomas, "that the most of 'em can be ruled out." He's not going to ask for details, not right here and now, later perhaps, but even he has some sense of discression. He's reaching for his coffee when Warren remarks about the marines and his expression darkens, tone also souring as he replies, "rescuing? Who the frak says we needed rescuing? Weren't saving it for anyone, just wan't going to let them sit here."

"Yeah you can prety much guess which one is accurate," Warren states as he takes a sip of his coffee. Theres a smirk at the response from Shackelton, "Because marines certainly don't rival us pilots in the stuborn ass department right? Just figured I'd swap the asses you had to deal with. At least I brought you back a pristine viper again." Warren shakes his head a moment and shrugs as he works through his food slightly slower now

Toby grunt back in acknowledgement to Warren's first remark as he takes a swig of his drink, then sets the mug back down with a bit of a thunk. "Least you lot aren't buddying up to a toaster while they're busy blowing the frak out of the fleet," he replies, in a tone best described as 'sour and disgruntled', "you guys might go out of your way sometimes to make our lives difficult, but you're at least on the same damn side."

Warren nods at that and gruns in agreement, "Yeah frakin toasters. Still don't understand why we gave them citizen ship…or even let them think about that." He shakes his head, "On the upside there, did blow up some more raiders last night so theres that"

"Cos they've got the Brass wrapped so far round their finger they actually believe they're people," Toby retorts. "Not sure if any of 'em have worked it out yet, but if so they're obviously to coward to admit their mistake." A shrug there, and then back to the marines "anyway, while they shelter their toaster, and stall on this frakking investigation, then they can frak off for all I'm concerned. They ain't supporting us, we ain't supporting them."

Theres a nod from Warren at that, "Either way." He takes another sip of his coffee thinking a moment, "How's things going down on the deck? Know we've stepped up some of the recons and patrols. You guys holding up alright down there? Not bringing you back our toys too dinged up are we?"

"Ask me again once I've seen what you've left us today," Toby replies, still sounding disgruntled but perhaps with less actual venom than there was before. Shoveling the last of his maybe-eggs into his mouth he chews for a few moments, swallows, then continues, "Still got a load to run through that firefighting refresher, no one's managed to kill themselves on it yet though, so I figure it's going well enough."

"If I ask you then I'm liable to get punched in the face. I brought mine back alright, but others took a bit of damage though," Warren says finishing off his plate and glancing up at the clock. Theres a sigh as he stands, "Well back to work for me. If you need anything let me know Shackelton yeah?"

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