AWD #263: Dress It Up, Sarge.
AWD #263: Dress It Up, Sarge
Summary: After the Air Wing's commendation, ceremony, Knox gets pulled aside for a private chat with Kostas…who's noticed something a little off.
Date: 26/Sep/2013
Related Logs: Air Wing Commendations
Knox Kostas 
Some Out of the Way Corridor - Battlestar Orion
A seldom used corridor, probably somewhere on Deck 3, not too far away from the Observation Deck.
AWD #263

Heading out of the Obs Deck, Knox is acutely aware that the new Ensign wants to see him. Brand spanking new, he may not even know she is his new platoon leader. He steps out, waiting for her, and moves off towards a lightly used corridor. "What can I do for you, sir?"

The Canceronian looks at his uniform, and up to his face. "I c'n 'preciate the rags you used to wearin' Sergeant. So I ain't sayin' you need to toss that shit in the burn pile. Got a lucky piece? No worries, jus' wear it under. But I want you to go get regulation uniform from supply before you do anything else, and get 'em ready. An' that's what I wanna see, when you on duty. I fuckin' hate that shit, but we still Marines. And while we got 'em, Dog Platoon gonna look the part. Yeah? Off duty, ain't my business and I ain't gonna be your m—well, I ain't gonna ride you." Her tone is even, conversational, but firm.

Coop takes the corridor and stands against the wall, hands behind his back. Of everything he might have been ready for, this wasn't it. He blinks a few times and looks down at what he's wearing. After she brings it to a point, the Sergeant nods. "Aye, sir." Its said quietly. "I've been wearing these for a lot of years. They've been the best ones I had. I didn't intend disrespect, sir."

One corner of Kostas' mouth quirks up in the corner, a knowing and not unsympathetic smile. "Then keep 'em, Sergeant," she says, gently—well, as gently as the gravelly voice is ever going to get. "You got something to remind you 'f those days, don't you let it go. Shit is important, no matter what no one says." She holds up one finger. "But…when you here, you here. That shit's important too. You don't do that, 's gonna make you more of a target than you already are."

Coop listens, watching her. Maybe its awkward to be this close in a light hall with a skinner. Maybe its not. But the guy in front of her doesn't let on that this is any different from any normal Sergeant. Especially with the last. He doesn't say anything for several seconds while he looks down at what he's wearing. Eventually, though, he nods. "Aye, sir." Good Marine. His eyes lift back to hers. "Its just what I had. I'll draw new ones for better appearance. Can I still wear these in combat? It makes sure I'm not shot on accident. You know, being what I am." He's acutely aware of his place in the Corps.

Kostas's eyes narrow, though it's in consideration, her gaze not even leveled at him. "For now, yeah. I got to check with th' brass though, for a final word. 'Til we hear yay or nay, you got permission for that. I'll take responsbility for it." Her black eyes move to his at his final statement. "Ain't gonna lie, Sergeant. I watched most 'f the only kids I'll ever call my own die 'cause of the cylons. But when a Marine don't know what to think, if they're lucky they got orders ta tell 'em what to. You a skinjob, but you're *my* skinjob. 'Nough for me right now."

Coop listens, but he doesn't respond to anything until long after she finishes her last words. He's watching her eyes, trying to measure the officer in front of it. There is a lot there that Kostas probably recognizes, but especially from her time as an enlisted. The look of an enlisted taking stock. His eventual response? "I've got three masters, sir." Its said low and quiet. "Gods, Colonial, Corps." Its the repetition of any Marine. "You keep to that, sir, I'm on your side. I'll draw it, though. For what its worth, apologies for presenting like I am."

Kostas is young, though not really much more so than Coop, and older that some of the green academy grad fucks that sometimes get put into place in a platoon with experienced NCOs. So she's not too far out of element there. But her eyes have seen a lot, and the reflection back to him is mostly that of fellow Marine, whose life also pretty much began and if she has anything to say about it, will end with the CMC. She doesn't flinch at his gaze, or recoil from it. "Understood, Sergeant. Apology 'cepted. Have a good rest of the evening, see ya with your ass kickin' boots on for the party."

Coop nods slowly. "Sorry, sir. Boots aren't the rule of the Juliet." Juliets being 'JTAC's. "I'll have my radio and bringing ruination." The man nods slowly. "I'll see you on the ground, sir." He tosses her a salute and turns to move. He's about to head back to the barracks, but stops himself and takes a left. Supply is that direction.

Kostas returns the salute, briskly. She watches him go, hiding a smile as he halts and then hangs left. That done, she turns to go on her own way, the smile fading into a more guarded and grim expression.

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