MD #157: Jailbird
Summary: Lleufer visits Rowan in the brig.
Date: 12/9/2017 (OOC Date)
Related Logs:
Rowan Lleufer 
The battlestar's brig is comprised of a line of four individual cells organized in separate walled-off bays. Each cell is six feet wide by eight feet long and possesses a bed and toilet. Whenever even one cell is occupied, so too is the metal desk and chair at the entrance hatch — and backup for the guard is never far away. Each cell has had their bars specifically reinforced to prevent a Line member from being able to gain access or escape. Brig rules are posted behind the desk on a white panel with blocked black lettering.
MD #157

Being in the brig is /boring/. The poor guards have watched the nugget pretend to masturbate in order to make them uncomfortable (she was ordered to stop), sing Aquarian folk songs (she was ordered to stop), clinking a mug against the bars of her cell (she was ordered to stop), and handstands. They didn't give a shit about the handstands. So right now, the most obnoxious detainee in the brig is upside-down.

Unluckily for Rowan, the Marine MP sitting the desk can, depending on the individual, utterly ignore her no matter what she does. But keeping things orderly and quiet is also their job and they carry tasers to back it up. Rowan hasn't had a taste of a taser, yet, but there's still time.

The hatch unseals and opens out in the corridor. Rowan can't see who enters until they come down the hall, but Lleufer Ynyr's voice greets the Corporal on duty as he signs the log. "She quieted down?" The Corporal answers, "Aye, Gunny." A moment later she can hear the sound of his boots as Lleufer comes down the corridor to her cell. Outside of it he stops and sets his hands to his hips to watch her without a greeting.

It takes a moment for Rowan to register someone is there because she's counting and has her eyes closed. She reaches five minutes and kicks down to her feet reasonably gracefully, shaking the lightheadedness away and blinking hard. Then she sees Lleufer. She stands reasonably upright, hands by her side. There's no smartass quip.

If there are things one can say to describe a Gunnery Sergeant it would definitely include patient (at times) and stubborn as hell. Lots of other more colorful words too. But Lleu merely stands there watching her, even long after Rowan realizes he is there and stands up. Ynyr watches her for a long minute before he asks low, "The punchline goes … so, do you want to play golf, or frak around?" Rowan may not know the age old classic joke. So he adds, "Make up your mind if you want to be a pilot or a refugee, because the bus stop is coming up."

"He crushed my mother's frakking windpipe. If the doc hadn't been there, she could have /died/." The response from the little nugget is terse and tense, and she holds her head up high. "I want to be a pilot. I also want people to not murder my Mum." Her jaw has a stubborn set. The golf quip goes totally over her head, but she stubbornly doesn't acknowledge that.

Lleufer frowns at Rowan from where he stands, "She wouldn't have died. It /was/ an accident. I agree that it shouldn't have happened, but he could have been aiming for her -chest- and she moved in some unpredictable way that screwed things up. It -happens- Rowan. It's why we wear head gear and mouth guards. Flynn wouldn't have died though. Every man and woman on board is trained in basic first aid. It could have been messier though, because any one of the rest of us might not have had tubing accessable." Ynyr shrugs, "If she'd been kicked or punched upwards under the ribcage, it could have been her diaphram. We'd have had to give her mouth to mouth until we got her to medical. I don't believe for a second that Shackleton /intended/ your mother harm. If -I- accidently hurt Randy in sparring, would you have come after me?"

"I mourned Mom and Mum for three years after the Orion was written off as a loss. And you. And Aunt Benny. I…" Rowan presses her lips together in an altogether Elena-like expression. "I…" She takes a breath through her nose. "No one fraks with my family."

Ynyr watches her and listens. "I understand, Rowan. But you also took an oath of service by joining the Fleet. You can't watch your mother's back if we have to drop your ass with the refugees on some mudball. So, choose your battles with great care. We are all look'n out for your mother too, and each other."

Lleufer adds low, "Don't make the same mistake your mother made, Rowan. She lost faith in her Fleet family. In all of us, thinking we'd do ill to Clara."

Rowan blinks. "Who's Clara?"

Oh boy. Rowan really /did/ just ask that question, didn't she? Lleu furrows his brows as he studies her, "You have got to be frak'n kidding me. You don't know?" He sighs and steps back to lean his ass against the corridor bulkhead, "The whole reason your mother got her ass brigged and then busted down from a Lieutenant to a /Private/ in the CMC is because she disbeyed orders and snuck on board the Line Resurrection ship the Cylon handed over to the Fleet. She was NOT cleared to go on that mission but she insisted on stowing away with that pilot Diaz's help. To attempt to hack the Model Threes and revive my CO, Lieutenant Clara Mercier-Piers. Piers was the Marine S2 who was lost on the recent Piraeus op. She apparently was killed and downloaded to the facility and /your/ mother wouldn't wait for Command or anybody else to actually check things out or spool up the resurrection facility properly. Randy tried to revive Clara herself, right away - because they were lovers, Rowan."

This information hits the young woman like a truck. "You mean she was her mistress," Rowan spits out, going and sitting down heavily on the hard bed. "Mum lost faith in her real family, too. Just ask Mom." That's all she has to say on the issue. She clasps her hands together tightly. They took her lighter away. She has nothing to fidget with. It's driving her nuts.

Lleufer would go in there and sit down with Rowan and give her a hug, and looks tempted to do so despite it being the brig. But he keeps his place leaning against the bulkhead instead and keeps his baritone real low. "I'm sorry, Rowan. -I- haven't lost faith in /you/. I am asking you not to give me reason so, like Flynn has. I'm trying real hard not to give up on your mother, either. She's been my friend for a long, long time. She's really let me and a lot of other people down, but she's still like a sister to me. I'm pissed off with her, but I'm not willing to ditch her. Even if she wants me to go to hell."

"I'll do my best," Rowan says softly. She keeps her eyes lowered, half-focused on something that may or may not be on the ground. "I won't knee Shackleton in the nuts again unless I have a really good reason."

The Gunnery Sergeant grins, "I didn't /really/ mind that you groined him. I wanted to laugh, actually. But you know it's my job that I have to stop things like that from getting further out of hand. If you push and escilate things too far, people above me are going to take notice and that then is something I can't fix or cover for, Rowan." Lleufer pushes off from the bulkhead, "Anyway, think about it. I'm going to leave you in here until your 24 hours are up, or until your SL comes to fetch you. No charges have been filed and I doubt any will be." The Master-at-Arms gives her a nod and then turns to head back out of the brig. Ynyr has plenty to keep him busy without babysitting, too.

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