AWD #340: Hand-Eye Coordination
Hand-Eye Coordination
Summary: After defeating Rakes, Dreyer finds himself teaching Randy how to play a Pyramid video game.
Date: 27/05/2016 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: None.
Dreyer Fischer Lleufer Perry Rakes Randy 
Rec Room
With several smaller rec rooms spread throughout the ship, this one is the largest by far and is the primary recreation location aboard the ship. Longer than it is wide, with several hatches in and out, the room is divided by load-bearing beams that section it off into even thirds. There are a dozen tables, couches, and coffee tables set up — though all of the tables and chairs are the drab metal of the rest of the fleet. The couches seem to have been purchased privately and moved in here at some point in the past, heavy use and careful patching evident. Magazines are strewn around randomly, as are racks of books, plus a couple flatscreen televisions set up. Along one wall are several billiards tables, along with a bar for coffee and snacks.
Mon Dec 12 2005 (AWD #340)

It's some time. Time is nebulous on a ship. It's always dark outside. Sure, one could use the sun's position over Piraeus to estimate, but that'd require visiting the Observation Deck and hoping Piraeus was currently in view. Most of the time (pun not intended), one just goes based off their own schedule. Whatever it may be, the Rec Room is currently relatively quiet. Someone's checked out a game system and has hooked it up to one of the televisions. One of the last Pro Pyramid games released before it all went to shit. And that person? Anton Dreyer.

Really, he barely knows what schedule he's on anymore. He just hopes he keeps setting his alarm for the right time. But currently, he's off duty and lounging on one of the sofas in the classic off-duty attire; BDUs and the dual-tanks. One leg is drawn up against his chest, sock-covered (where are his boots?) foot hooked on the edge of the cushion. Arms are wrapped around the upraised limb to hold the controller. He's squinting at the screen as he plays, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth just a smidgen. For the moment, his team is winning. Barely.

The darkness outside is less there when you spend a good deal of time planetside. But at this moment, Fischer's both off duty as a Marine and as a dad, so he's made his way inside here. Stepping inside the Rec Room, he makes his way over to find himself some coffee, glancing over at Dreyer rather briefly, offering him a smile and a nod.

Demi Rakes sprints into the rec room, and by sprinting it's her collapsing into the arms of a departing deckie or other enlisted as she stumbles through the entrance. There's a flurry of apologizing and clipped comments but she recovers in time and smooths over the front of her off-duty threads. "You degenerate bastard!" She yells out the three words across the room, not minding so much attention being sent in her direction but instead simply pointing accusingly at Dreyer. The woman then proceeds to walk over and sit down next to him, looking at the television. "Someone said you were playing." She offers, "And I didn't get invited. Hey Fish." Fischer is easy to recognize, and wave to, because Rakes is a friendly Rakes.

Nods, smiles, and other visual points of reference go unnoticed by Dreyer. It's the final minute or two of the game and he is in the zone. The man doesn't even realize that he's the one Rakes is calling out until she plunks down next to him. There's a grunt in answer and then a string of swears.. Not all in Standard, either. Hey, what good is a Caprican public education if you don't pick up some choice words in other languages on the way? Anton's team loses the game in the final seconds and he drops the controller to the table before the couch, slouching back. "Didn't know where you were," he answers Rakes, casting a glance her way. It's then that he notices Fischer, offering an upnod. To the JTAC, the MP adds: "If you wanna grab another controller, you can play."

"Hey," Fischer offers, with a smile, as he pours himself some coffee. "How's things today?" he asks, after a few brief pause, moving over towards the others, steps a bit slow.

"Oh! Oh, c'mon! Aww. You know, you're kinda garbage." No one said that Rakes has to be a cheerleader as she watches the game play out on the big screen. She folds her arms loosely over her chest in switching her attention between the two gents nearer to her, nodding to Fischer and then glancing sidelong at Dreyer. "I'm fine. I mean, how can someone not be when they know they're about to hand out ass-kickings like hotcakes?" She asks aloud when having to stand back up and claim another controller. She accepts the challenge without hesitation.

"Eh, just wondering when my hours will change again." Assignments. Operations. Anton's been having a hard time finding a sleep schedule that actually sticks lately. It's led to some circles beneath his eyes, but the man has at least retained some of his spirits. A mug of coffee, half-empty, sits on the coffee table and he leans forward, dropping leg, to grab it. There's a long drink and a sidelong look towards Rakes as she hands out insults so easily. Thus, as he backs out of menus to where he can set it up for two-player, he allows it to linger, momentarily, on a screen showcasing he was playing on a harder difficulty. Not the 'nightmare' mode, obviously, but still. This wasn't some easy mode he lost on. The man does, smartly, refrain from voicing any boasts. So far.

Thus, settling back into the sofa, Anton goes through setting up the new game. And he's quick to select the Caprica Buccaneers as his team, too. Fanboy.

Fischer grins as he hears that, unable to hold back a chuckle at Rakes. "Now you'd better follow through, or we'll all be reminded every day for the rest of our lives…" he offers to her, before he takes another sip of coffee. Grinning again as he sees the choice of a team, he shakes his head. "Should have picked the Panthers instead," he comments.

"Until I kick him in the head," chips in Rakes at the end of Fischer's offering, because she's capable of finishing someone else's statements even if it's not what was originally intended. She has all the boasts in the world and much of the talent to back it up, because a quiet professional descriptor is for people like the dead; Demi is alive and kicking. She returns her focus to the screen so that she can choose a team, and currently cycles through the lot of them.

"She wishes she could kick me in the head," Dreyer offers, setting aside his controller for the moment as he rolls to his feet. "Coffee," he explains, sotto voice, to Rakes as he grabs his mug. He'll have time a-plenty to refill his mug while she selects a team. And upon his return, after settling back in? Oh, he totally makes sure she hasn't frakked with his settings. Nope, no shenanigans to cheat to a win allowed!

Fischer chuckles as he hears what's being said now. "This seems like it'll be an interesting match," he says, taking a seat so he can watch the game now.

Rakes is seemingly too wrapped up with choosing a team to offer up anything verbal just yet. Once Dreyer stands up and is in the background, it takes her all of a few seconds to settle on a team and uniform for them to wear. This isn't her first rodeo. She also doesn't bother with anyone's controls or controller, simply sitting back and tucking her hands behind her head in wait. She hums gently to herself. "I guess it'll get interesting," the lass agrees. She wets her lips at the return of Anton and sits up, retaking her controls. Hedon Suns. "Ready now?"

A quick sip of the coffee deems it too hot to really drink, but it's enough to get him settled back into place. Anton takes up his controller and finalizes the match settings. Most things just standard, really. Cinematics turned off because who wants those during a two-player game? Nobody, that's who. "Ready as I'll ever be," Dreyer notes, winking over to Fischer as he hits play. Then it's leaning forward, elbows propped on knees, to focus on the match.

Taking another sip of his coffee, Fischer grins a bit as he watches the happenings. "I promise not to do any live commentary," he offers to them both, unable to hold back a bit of laughter now.

While Rakes opens her mouth to complain about her lack of introductions for her team, and other cinematics shoved into the game, she also ends it by mentioning, "And that's why we skip them." That's something for them to easily agreement about on their gaming. Fischer gets a keen grin out of her, too. Who does not want live commentary? But she has a game to play and that requires focus, or at least pretending to focus.

The first third of the game is about what one might expect out of two competitive individuals playing a competitive game. It's close. Dreyer's fairly good at forcing his players into good shooting positions or being aggressive and tackling Rakes' team into giving way. Rakes, however, is better at seeing a few steps ahead. In the end, when the game gives the period's scoring, it's Anton that comes out a bit ahead. The man leans sideways, bumping the JTAC with his shoulder as he grins. There's a grab for the coffee and now that it has cooled somewhat, he's able to take a long drink. "Think you can recover from that?" When he's barely a couple goals ahead? Should be easy.

Fischer smiles as he watches in quiet, leaning back in his seat while sipping his coffee. He doesn't say much, just watching the athletes moving around on the screen.

Rakes plays defensively more times than not, for some reason. She has yet to explain her tactical reasoning for this but there are still sparked moments of aggression on her part. She knows when to pull her shots or sacrifice for a greater moment in the future. Still, she ends up being behind after a period of play. She quietly laughs with being nudged in the side and shakes her head. There's a weak swatting in his direction. "I've just been playing with you the entire time, anyways. So you get to enjoy it while you can. I'm a benevolent conqueror."

There's a glance to the hand doing the swatting, as if Dreyer is considering grabbing the offending hand. In the end, he doesn't. He just takes another long sip of coffee before setting the mug down. "Benevolent, is it?" A bit of a scoff as he hits the button to continue into the next round. "I'll have you know, I was reigning champion on the Athena." Maybe he's just rusty? Maybe he's talking out his ass. But even so, for the second period, Anton manages to retain his lead. It slips a few times, sure, but he manages to just barely grab hold and keep it there. Mostly due to some jenky moves of the style that only a kid who spent way too much time with the game would learn the button combinations for. Hey, pre-war, a Battlestar posting for an MP was boring as frak.

"And here I thought I was doing both of us a favor by playing with the Suns instead of the Wildcats. My bad!" It is too late for Rakes to go about changing her team, which she does not seem to actually mind playing with, and that's ignoring the other half of her parentage with Sagittaron's teams. She wrinkles the bridge of her nose and huffs. It's about time she refocus and double down on her attention, or at least her skill going into the final round.

"Us a favor? Me, maybe. But, y'know, it's not the team, it's who's managing it." Dreyer finds it easy to tease. At least in this, a sort of natural state for him. Coffee, relaxing, and vidya games. The MP seems to be doing alright. Another bit of coffee and he settles back for the final period. He and Rakes are on the sofa, playing a competitive video game. Pyramid. Of frakkin' course. And Dreyer is playing the Bucs… Again: of course. He also happens to be winning. And in the moment, the man has a sort of cool confidence about it. Almost smarmy. But at least he hasn't been rubbing it in.

When the game gets down to the final seconds, however, he's on his feet with it. And yes, he manages to pull that out. Barely, but he does secure the win. "HA!"

<FS3> Randy rolls Body+Body: Success.

Randy yawns with one hand lifted to cover it feebly as she steps into the rec room hatch. She's in simple off duty attire, one of her very few that she has. The theme of it is black, or nearly. Black band tshirt (some obscure Aquarian band that had since faded into obscurity by war day), a long dark grey vest over a black hoodie, charcoal colored jeans, and black canvas shoes that have holes coming in on the heels betraying that Randy doesn't always loosen the laces enough to get them on properly. A few steps in, she notices familiar backs of heads and trots over to jump over the arm of a sofa, hand still in her pockets. She twists and lands with a bounce on her back, legs comfortably crooked over the arm as she grins back at the other two on the other couch. "Who's winning?"

Perry wanders in, tanks and green pants. Typical fare. She glances over towards the game on the TV and smirks while heading for the chips bags at the back of the room. Yep! Munchies.

Rakes is playing video games. This is normal. She is losing. This is not as normal; rare, but nearly as rare as her looking angry about it. That must be from all the boasting she has been doing which has lessened the more the anger shows. Then she exhales and briefly releases the controller altogether. "It's all frakked. Just, everything," but she's only using the Suns, too, and laughs at herself when returning to the game. She does not readily notice familiar faces nearby up until giving a glance or two to the flank, away from Dreyer. "Your mom!" That's for Randy the Distraction; classic mom joke.

Off-duty today for Dreyer is actually just the standard. BDUs and dual-tanks. Likely he came straight to the Rec Room after finishing his shift; stripping off extraneous gear which still lies on his bunk. Future Dreyer has to deal with that. Present Dreyer is playing a game. His boots are discarded beneath the coffee table, which bears a few old magazines and his nearly-full cup of coffee. "I just won," he offers, a bit smug, for all of Rakes' earlier bravado. There's just a teeth-flashing grin offered her way. He has not, however, realized that Randy is sitting behind him. So when he plunks back down? It's right on the engineer… which makes him stumble right back up and nearly fall over. Rakes? Your shoulder is Anton's saviour. The man is flushing, but laughing, as he rights himself. Perry's passage is noticed and there's sort of a stare after her before he offers the controller towards Randy, leaning to pick up his coffee and take a long drink.

"Great diss. I never met her," Randy tilts her head to the side, grinning, and then starts to struggle like a worm to get more comfortable. She thinks she can get there in one awkward motion, but then she's pinned by Dreyer before she can pull out her hands to finish the job. She lets out an exaggeratedly tiny, "Please help meee!" as if she was being suffocated. When the controller is offered, she puts an end to her antics and swivels herself into position, folding her legs up in meditative style. "Which buttons do what?" She already starts mashing through the menus.

Perry moves to the coffee maker and chip shack. She grabs a bag and glances over the shoulder to the fight. "You're not a loser unless you're bleeding more than the other guy." There's a grin to go with it as she pulls a bag of chips and tops the coffee off. She moves to the side and lifts the drink in cheers. "Kill 'em all, yeah? Mum needs you to represent." The last to Rakes with a smile before she departs.

"Ain't that a bit-," the rest of her cursing is cut off but Rakes doesn't bother repeating herself. The results are in, and she's too busy trying not to be crushed under everyone attacking the couch one way or another. Her hands come up to shield her face, and her legs come up too, but then she rolls away and into a stumbling stand. Righting herself, the marine mutters incoherently in trying to find where her controller has gone. "I'm gonna be a sore loser and frak myself instead, sorry." Soon as she picks up the other controller at least.

"You can bleed more than the other guy and still win," Randy quips to Perry as she looks down at the gamepad to see what the instructions on the screen are referring to. "How do I get into a match?" Yep, the EOD could take out an IED with her bare hands or a bot remotely, but apparently she never played video games. "Who's good?" She looks over to Rakes and arches her brows. "You ready for the winning you never asked for?" She twists towards Dreyer and pokes him in the ribs with the controller gently to affect a nagging child, "Put me in coach!" Then she says softer, "Seriously. I have no idea how to set up the match."

There's a glance after Perry and Dreyer seems to be trying to figure out what to say, but then she's gone. He stares down at his feet a moment before moving to step away. Fortunately, it evades the controller poke. Just in time. He makes a face; "I need a snack. Make her do it-" thumb-over-shoulder gesture to Rakes. Yes! Throwing the JTAC under the bus. "Set her up with the tutorial or somethin'. Wouldn't be fair to beat someone who's never played the game." And then he's poking through the food offerings.

Rakes tells Perry that she is going to go frak herself. She doesn't leave to handle her personal affairs so that must be a joke on some level, but the other woman fetches a nod with regards to honoring mothers. That can come later. In the meantime, she finds the controller and stands upright again; this time, triumphantly. "What am I doing?" she asks, returning to the conversation. She looks blankly at Randy. Dreyer is walking away. Perry has walked away. They're playing a pyramid video game. "Stop touching it," she says, grabbing the gamepad from Randy in order to select the right option, "Here. I'll couch you to victory."

Lleufer arrives in his off duty tanks and tags. Nasty scars run up his bared left arm from something that tried to rip his arm off rather than shoot him for it left puckered gash marks especially in his forearm. A Colonial Marines tat decorates his upper arm on that side. Ynyr carries a small sports bag which he sets down on a bench before opening it up. He glances over at the others, "Hey." before he pulls out a roll of white medical tape to start taping his hands across the knuckles. Further glances raise his right eye brow slightly at the little spat going on over a hand held video game or something.

Randy is in off duty wear, which means she's in all blackish attire, dark grey vest over a black hoodie over a black band tshirt. Charcoal grey jeans and black canvas shoes that are worse for wear. She's sitting with her legs folded up on the couch. She /did/ have the controller, and when Rakes takes it from her hands she frowns. "Hey!" She pushes herself forward, unfurling her legs to land on her feet as she rises and tries to get the controller back by reaching for it. "What does that even mean?" she asks, though she seems deadset on doing it herself 'like a big girl.'

It is, apparently, vidya game night in the Rec Room. Or at least it is for a small portion of the ship's marines. The library has a few games available in it. Not many, but hey. If there's at least one working system… and apparently there is, hooked up to one of the televisions. Dreyer is in standard off-duties; dual-tanks and BDUs. He's in socks, however, his boots tucked away under the coffee table. The man is rifling around the snack cart and finally surfaces with a few items. Bearing these, he returns to the sofa and finds a place to settle in. Towards the center, now that Rakes is upright and standing. Means he'll have to be flanked by the girls if they both sit OH NO THE HORROR. A bag of chips is tossed into Randy's lap and a wrapped cookie offered up to Rakes. It's dangled this way and that. "Eat." To Randy, he points at the chips. "Watch and pay attention. You can't just mash all the buttons, jeez."

Ynyr continues to tape up his hands but didn't get a reaction from anyone in here to his greeting. He finishes with the tape and puts it back into his bag, then goes over to get a bottle of water out of the dispenser, "You should all be practicing your hand to hand combat instead of playing video games." That's fun, right? He gives a wink with his right eye and with bottle in hand, turns to pick up his bag, "I'm going to go work on the heavy bag a while. Maybe one of you will spar with me later."

<FS3> Randy rolls Presence+Presence: Failure.

Rakes only takes the controller long enough to set the game up. It's already back in Randy's hands as she takes the time to explain. "Practice how to play. Then you can play us." That's about it and she levels, instead, a look in the general direction of Ynyr while Dreyer returns. She owlishly blinks. Rather than talk, she contents herself in stalking for the exit and quietly leaving.

"This helps with uh-," Randy pipes up quickly and easily but gets distracted by Rakes' instructions. She ends the sentence with an unconvincing, "eyyyyehand-dexterity?" she runs them together. "Besides, if I'm within hand to hand ever I'll be dead anyways," she says casually as she quickly becomes absorbed, but when Rakes leaves her side, she blinks and looks after her curiously. "Sure…" a little confused.

Lleufer gives Randy a chuckle as he watches Rakes but he heads on out as well to go work out in the gym. He still needs plenty of physical work to recover from past injuries.

No cookie for Rakes? Dreyer sort of sticks his tongue out at the JTAC, but offers a brief smile after. "'bout ready for you to quiz me on those radio functions, teach'." But the MP isn't going to chase after her. He'll let her meander out if she so wants. Everyone should get to spend their off-duty hours as they want. Instead, the man leans forward to grab te bag of chips that Randy so callously ignored. "We called it hand-eye coordination in high school so our parents would let us play," he quips, opening the bag as he leans back into the sofa.

"Yeah yeah whatever," Randy flops back down on the couch next to her chips. She scoots herself and her chips further down opposite of Dreyer so he can have more leg room. "Sorry about scaring all the girls away," she looks down at the controller again to find the button referenced on the screen. "Where is the green wiggling half-moon?" That would be the green trigger squeezing animation of course.

He hasn't turned sideways to overtake the whole sofa yet. Yet. Instead, he slouches down and stretches his legs out in front of him. The chips are left within reach, but Dreyer totally grabs a few. "The trigger," he explains, lifting hand and miming. "Underneath the controller. Pull that one." And then he's leaning forward and past Randy to retrieve his coffee and settle back in to watch. Damnit, Rakes was supposed to do this par!

<FS3> Randy rolls Presence+Presence: Failure.

"Oh," Randy's cheeks flush a little at the realization of being so far off base. "Right." Falling silent seems to be the biggest boon to her learning. When she's given some control over her player in the tutorial, instead of doing what it says to right off, she starts to run small series of experiments, systematically discovering the controls. "Oh. Cool. This is a really nice controller," she remarks as she turns it upside down, "Not too big…" right when the opposing forward scores on her in the free for all part of the tutorial in the end. A score buzzer blares and virtual fans boo, some cheer…for the other team. "Oops. So, wait, the goalie controls are different?" She's referring to the first-person zoom experience that allows the goalie a chance to block a shot. She had stopped playing when she thought she had blocked the shot, not realizing she had just earned the chance to block the shot. "That was so frakking unfair. They don't even tell you that in the learning thing!" They do.

Once the engineer has free rein of the controls, Dreyer is content to sit back and munch. He's even found a brownie, which he unwraps and begins tearing pieces off of to eat. "Sure they do. You just didn't pay attention." He smirks, just a bit. "How the frak did you make it through college anyhow?" Another piece of brownie, then a sip of the coffee he's moved to a closer spot on the table. "You hit the button to go into first-person. Gives you better control. I'd ignore that, honestly, unless you plan to play single-player a lot. It's not used when you play against other real people." As in, not the AI.

"I sort of…had a weird university experience." Randy pauses as she concentrates a little more mid-sentence. "I ended up learning a lot of what everyone learned, just through more independent study modules. At least my major classes. I got lucky they didn't kick me out," she says with a chuckle as she pulls off a combo, kicking off a fancy shot which sails on target. Her eye hand coordination is excellent though her timing still needs work, as if she's consistently a little fast, perphaps used to better hardware. "I take it back." It's pretty clear how she got through remote ordnance disposal. Good gamers tend to make good EOD candidates. Quick reflexes, high manual dexterity, performance under pressure, and, some even have good problem solving skills. If only all video games required that to be good at them. "You better pick up your controller and start playing before I beat your ass." She's not anywhere near as good as Dreyer or Rakes yet of course. "…I still have Williams' dog tags." A mind left vacant is a vulnerable one.

"Mmmm." Dreyer is content to let Randy speak, for the moment. He'd come to the Rec Room alone and been invaded… By three different women who all hold three very independent places in his world at the moment. It's a bit hard to properly bounce back from, even for Anton. So he eats his brownie, sips his coffee and cares not for the sugar high he's sure to experience in the near future. After swallowing a bite, he waves his hand absently at the suggestion. "Naah. One match was good enough for me today. You have fun." And it's mid-drink that she speaks up. His eyebrows twitch upward. "Whose?"

<FS3> Randy rolls Presence+Presence-2: Good Success.

"She was from Picon, under Spree. I was a part of the crew that got the Rhinos," Randy mumbles. That explains one of the missions she was out overnight for. "We crashed. But I didn't get hurt," she lowers the controller to her lap, slackened as she turns to look at Dreyer blankly. "Almost everyone got frakked up. In the head mentally," she taps on the side of her skull, pointing her finger, "or physically." Then she stares straight at the screen. "I took her gear." She looks back to Dreyer.

There's a wrinkle of Dreyer's nose. He'd heard bits, sure, but not much. Just that the mission was an overall success and there were now ships… with lovely turrets for the marines. Being able to help provide air support? Frak yes. Anton looks to the brownie, tears off another piece, and eats it slowly. "Shouldn't you have given it all to Spree? I mean pass it off to the commanding officer so they can… find a friend or something." Lack of family for most and all.

"I-" Randy is at a loss for words. "I wasn't thinking. I just stuffed them in my kit and forgot." How could she forget? It isn't very convincing and Randy's not trying to make it that way. "I don't think-I don't think I can do that alone." She averts her eyes, blinking, but trying to keep them more open than closed. "I just can't help but see her there…right through." Her hand has curled up into a fist where the woman had been impaled.

Anton is quiet for a long moment. It's not like he has a lot of experience in this arena. He's seen the dead. He's seen the injured. But he has yet to really witness the transition between the two. The moment one crosses from living to death. He sets aside the rest of the brownie and does draw into the sofa; wedging into the corner and drawing his legs up, watching Randy in profile. "You didn't forget." He points out the obvious, smoothly enough. "You should have had the CO of the mission return them. It's part of what officers are trained to do, Flynn."

"Will I get in trouble for this?" Randy looks over to the man who has become her friend. It helps to ask an MP. "I didn't mean to-I-" better get the story straight. "I have to clean them first," she says with some urgency as if, now realizing she's frakked up, her brain is racing to make it right.

"Mmm…" Anton reaches for his mug, twisting to do so. When he has it, he settles back in and holds it to his abdomen. One leg is drawn up and propped against the back of the sofa. He stares at his knee. "At most, you'd get a Page Eleven. Sat down, talked to about what you did and why it was wrong. And that's worst-case-scenario. It all depends on the officer you bring it to and what they want to do about it. I mean, stressful situation. Shit happens. Command has more important things to worry about than someone not turning in tags immediately."

"Oh. Okay. I've been through worse," Randy shrugs, though she doesn't bother clearing up what portion of her life she's referring to. As a soldier? A civilian? "Thanks. I'll hand them in tomorrow. Maybe I can find some green behind the ears Ensign to pawn them off on."

Nor does Anton press. He knows better by now, likely. You see enough cycle out to live out their life on Piraeus, too injured to continue. Women gone blind. Men without limbs. Dreyer lifts his mug and takes a long drink before setting it aside. "Do that. Just find out the next transfer Raptor going to Picon and find some officer aboard. Hand it off to them right before they go. Then it's their responsibility and chances are, they'll forget to even do anything about you."

"Thanks for the advice." Randy leans back and stretches her arms out, the controller left in her lap. Perhaps what she really means is, thanks for listening. The words would prick at a part of their conversation she wants to leave behind as quickly as possible. It's something she doesn't understand. How she can see so much already but this, this stranger. Why? "War makes no sense. I'm bored beating the bots." She's wracking up penalties because she likes to hit hard and doesn't know about fouling out, but the strategy seems to work out for her on the current difficulty setting. Some silence grows in the accidental poignancy and irony of her statement and then she holds her hand to her side and laughs.

There's a twitch of Anton's brow and he shifts forward, reaching for the controller. It's replaced, in Randy's lap, with the chips. "Eat." He's like someone's grandmother or something. The game is cancelled out of and the system shut down. He deposits the controller on the table, next to the one that Rakes had discarded earlier. "You need to take a walk? Go punch something for a while, maybe? Preferably not me, but I might be able to tolerate a few."

When the controller is taken from her, Randy doesn't put up a fight. She slumps back into the couch cushion, arms limp and hands in her lap. "What I need is another mission. I'm going stir-crazy. I miss ordnance disposal and IEDs." Randy's an expert at deflection because there's truth to her words. "I'm not sure you can just punch shadows away, but I'll try…Oh. Hey, that reminds me. You're decent at hand to hand right? MP and all?"

Randy pops open the back of chips and takes a decent chomp out her first salty victim.

There's a roll of Dreyer's eyes as he grabs his coffee. The rest is drained and he sets the mug aside. "Sure." It's a dry, almost empty statement. He leans forward and pushes to his feet, starting to collect up the game sysem and unhook it to return the television to a more neutral state. At the question, he looks over his shoulder, a bit of a 'hrm?' in initial answer. The MP shrugs, absently, putting things up before moving for his mug. That gets deposited in the bin that'll go to the kitchens at some point. "Sure. One of the better at it, I'd say. Why?"

"Because I suck but I need someone to tell me how I suck so I can get better," Randy says rapid fire, ending with a grin. "You think you could spar with me a little sometime and let me know what I could work on?" She hops up to help him tidy up the area. Now that it's just the two of them, it'd be better to just get it out of the way anyways. "I'd owe you a favor." She squints at him through one eye as if it was painful to say.

The last things to be retrieved? Brownie and boots. The former is wrapped up and carefully tucked in a pocket. The latter, Dreyer sits down to tug on and lazily lace. Enough to get him back to the barracks without tripping over himself. He looks up to Randy, considering. There's a shrug, finally. "Not much of a teacher, really, but I can try."

"I can try too," Randy assures him with a small grin. "I appreciate it." She hops up onto her feet, announcing, "It's time for my nap." Really it's just time for everyone to hit the rack, but one never knows when they'll be woken up by some noise or even an emergency. "You heading to the barracks?" she asks as she heads to the hatch. She opens it but waits for him to go through first.

The boots are secure enough and Dreyer grabs the game disk to return to the library on his way out. It's held in hand, but otherwise he's leaving empty… except for the brownie in his pocket. That's for later. "Yeah, after I return this-" game held up as he heads for the hatch. "Time to see if I can get a bit of sleep before my shift."

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