MD #152: No Brawling for Old Men
No Brawling for Old Men
Summary: A long conversation with Toby manages to not be the most stressful thing in Lleu's day.
Date: 08/09/2017
Related Logs: Working From Home
Lleufer Toby 
Mess Hall - Deck 3 - Battlestar Orion
The Crew Mess on the battlestar 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.
MD #152

It's been a shitty two days for the Master-at-Arms. Lleufer is in a seriously bad mood but he's trying to keep his chin up and keep on with his job like nothing has pissed him off. But people are still giving him a wide berth if they don't really need to speak with him. So it is that Ynyr takes a seat off by himself along one of the bulkheads in the Mess and starts to eat. The usual on his tray. Lots of protein, vegies, dried fruit, tall iced tea with lemon if the mess has any out. Usually only if they put out frozen slices. The Gunnery Sergeant is in his MP uniform with sidearm.

While Toby might appreciate the fact that the mess in the brig is a massive ball ache for Lleu, he finds it deeply, deeply hilarious. Not the reasoning behind it mind, that’s serious enough, but Randy having just blown away all her credibility with regards to telling him to follow orders in future? That’s just as beautiful as the entire situation is dumb. Having clearly just been training then showered, he hits the mess with almost a swagger. A piece of paper is pulled from his pocket and consulted before he makes his selection and then he's turning to look for somewhere to sit. Oh look, there's a man he needs to see, how convenient. He knows the MaA well enough to see the black cloud, but doesn't seem to care as he sits sown diagonally across the table. "Ynyr," he greets, "bad news I'm afraid." Although given the general situation he doesn't linger on that and leave the marine guessing, "went to see the Doc yesterday and she says you're stuck with me."

Lleufer glances up as somebody looms near and takes a seat. "Shackleton." Yeah, he's not looking half as amused as Toby. "That depends on whether or not your transfer actually goes through. But, if it does, your ass is mine for a while." A slow, deep breath and back out again before he reaches for his tea. After a drink he adds low, "So, next step is to get all your paperwork together. Put in formally for your transfer with your Chief. That'll get kicked to whoever the frak is my CO this week. Or maybe even my desk for all I know. They'll want you to do a psyche eval but I don't think you'll have any trouble with that. But, Command may nix the transfer." A bite of his food and chewing until he swallows it. "Hurdles to go, yet."

"Chief said she won't block it," Toby notes, the edge of his amusement dampened for a moment, "Flynn said to square paperwork and psych with you though, given her situation and the Major's transfer." At the mention of the psych that hint of humour returns and he adds off-handily, "luckily, as I told her, I've no history of torturing small animals, so that should be fine." Cos that’s what psych-evals are for right? Finding the psychopaths? Leaning back in his chair as he eats he pulls a tube of pills from his pocket and downs one, before washing it away with a sip of his water. "Vitamins," he explains, "Doc insisted and frak it, small price really. You let me know when you want to start though, like I said before, do your worst, I'm not afraid of hard work." And he does at least seem to understand that it'll be hard work, even if he is seemingly convinced that it'll end as he wants.

"Yeah," Lleufer says after eating more from his tray. "And your personnel file, as far as your brig history goes, is really no worse than my own to be honest. I've been no angel myself through the years." He sucks something quietly out of his teeth and takes a few more bites. The tube of pills gets a flicker of the Gunny's attention, watching. "I'll get the paperwork you need and send it over to you. I can't do anything else until it comes back all clear on the transfer. Then whoever is acting Marine CO will assign you, possibly still to me to train you, or possibly not. They may send you to some other ship for all I know. But if you are sent to me, then I'll get you started. I already picked a Sergeant to work with you on your PT, and I've pulled up files for your coursework you'll begin in the ship's library. -If- the transfer comes through. But in so far as anybody is going to ask me, it has my OK to proceed."

"For all the reputation I seem to have," Toby notes, still apparently amused, "I was only ever in their twice you know." Okay, he knows Lleu knows, but it's conversation. At the talk of assigning a Sergeant he has to ask, "Knox? I heard he was moving to training? Odd as it is after how we first knew enough other, we actually get on now." It's strangely candid from the Tauran, but they both went though that whole shift in understanding of the Lines, so he feels comfortable enough with no youngsters about. "You want to get started while we wait on the paperwork though? Unofficially I mean, sooner the better and all that. Or at least give me a heads up on the sort of things I should be adding to my gym routine ASAP."

"No, I mean a Sergeant. Not a Staff, not a Gunny. Though, if Knox wants to take a hand in helping you, I trust him more than anyone else. I'll also be working with you, but only as my primary duties allow me the time." Lleufer's about finished his tray of food. He sips his tea which is also almost gone, down to ice. "Well, in a nut shell we'll start you on PT. Probably with whomever your assigned platoon will be. We'll monitor your blood pressure and heart rate, rate of recovery. Send you by medical for very regular check-ups, due to your age, probably weekly at first. It'll be comprised of a lot of running every day to start. Exercises, stretches, but mostly running. For distance, more than speed. In fatigues and combat boots. No kit to carry at first. Just see how well you can keep up with your platoon mates. There will also be lots of pool time. Firing range practice. Lots of qualifications testing to see where you are on all the basics. First aid, firearms, hand to hand you'll ace. And lots of classwork on CMC regs, then move you into basics like ground tactics. Move you up a bit at a time into grenade training, shit loads of Marine gun footage you'll be expected to view and make notes. Test you on it."

Toby looks if anything, slightly disappointed that it won't be Knox, the thought had only just occurred to him, but he'd like it as an idea. Liked it a lot. Running gets a slow couple of nods, he can incorporate the treadmill easily enough but at the mention of the pool he snaps his head straight back to Lleufer, giving the marine an almost wary look. His meal is forgotten for now as he sets the fork down and wonders just how exactly to reply to that, before admitting in a quiet tone and with distinct caution, "don't reckon it says anywhere in the file, but since it looks like it's about to become relevant you should know. I can't swim. No one learnt, cos if a mine floods all swimming does is mean it takes you longer to drown." And that's clearly a very uncomfortable though, for he actually shudders bodily, even if only slightly.

Lleufer sets his glass down, his tea now gone. "Unless you have a phobia of water that you need me to know about, no sweat. We'll teach you how to swim. How to do it while laden with 100 lbs of gear, how to save a drowning person and to do it safely so they don't drown you. You'll have to pass tests on it, and tread water for hours. Just be glad you aren't working towards Special Forces because some of those courses get crazy on what you have to do /under/ water. Setting demo charges and the like. But we don't do that. You'll be doing regular infantry Rifleman training. If you qualify, you can opt for specialization with another MOS afterwards. But they probably won't let you unless you do gene therapy. Simply too much investment of time and resources otherwise."

While previously Toby had been leaning back comfortably, now he's tense, and looking like if he could lean back further in his seat then he would. Nothing of the activities Lleu just described seem to have done anything but increase that desire to be elsewhere. "Water is fine," he notes pointing to his glass, "being in it though?" He doesn't actually shudder again, but it's a close-run thing, "frak me I'd rather go ten rounds against a pissed off One with both hands tied behind my back." Leaning forward now, so he's close to Lleu and he can talk quietly, "I mean literally, I've not been in anything wetter than a shower in my entire life." Big confession, deep-seated fears and all that, especially telling 'em to a marine, but on a basic level at least he trust Lleu not to take horrible advantage.

Ynyr arches a brow. His right, after so many years of not having been able to move the left side of his face much. "Well, you'll still have to manage to pass the basic swim tests. Phobias are good to know about, but if you can't conquer your fear long enough to save a life, including your own, that won't be good on your record. I have a phobia myself that's been pretty rough, sometimes. So I know how it's like. I just have to suck it up, sometimes. Not easy to do, trust me." The right side of his mouth curls into a grin, "Mine's being confined. Doesn't matter if it's a bed I'm strapped into…" He lifts his left hand and rubs the old restraint scars around his wrists, "Or a crowd, or a small room. Freaks me out, but my fellow Marines and especially my CO, needs to know. We learn to work around it, and if possible, to conquer such fears."

"That’s…" Toby starts, mouth suddenly dry, "that's going to be an interesting set of lessons." A 'may you live in interesting times' level of interesting. He does at least seem to understand that it's something that has to happen mind, but he can feel the adrenalin now, even just thinking about it. "We can, you know, do that bit when it's quiet right? Not too many others around?" If there's one thing worse than having to get in the fraking pool then it's doing so in front of a random selection of the ship's company. Reaching for his glass he drains the rest of the drink, quite clearly still rather deeply unsettled at the very idea.

"Of course. Start with just very shallow water and wearing a PFD if you like. You can go ahead and start without anyone else around, this week, if you want. I can assist in my off hours if you want me, or can get you with a proper swimming instructor. Regular swim PT and testing would be with your platoon though but you have time to prep for it."
Lleufer adds low, "We could go now but it's up to you."

Toby is not entirely convinced that if he tries when no one else at all is there then he wouldn't back out, but beyond a slight dip of his head he doesn't let that show. Or not too much at least. "Let me know your shifts," he says quietly, and maybe Knox's if he's up for it. I'll see when's best." 2am should be quiet right? Everyone in bed bar the 12-4 watch who'll be busy, on watch. At the offer he glances back to Lleu again then shakes his head slowly. "I need time to build up to that, plus I promised Ayles I'd get some overtime in on a pred that’s gone sick, and best get it done now before.. well.. you know."

"My shifts are posted out in the SecHub along with every other MP's. So we know our patrols. Some days may be slow and I can come when I'm still on duty. /Most/ of the time I'll be training you I'll be on duty and on call. I don't have enough personal time to do it and still get sleep, laundry, and meals myself. That's why most of it will be designated to your platoon leader or specialized instructors to assist. But at least 2 or 3 times a week I'll be working with you personally." Lleufer grimly smiles, "You happen to be too senior, and too valuable to this ship, to not keep a close eye on how well you do. I'm sure that Command will have my testicles if I let something bad happen to you in training."

Toby nods once to the shift information and makes a mental note to check it later, when he has a notebook or similar around to jot down the details he needs. The marine's last comment though does seem to bring a hint of humour back into his features. "I'm sure that Command don't give a frak." Then, without missing a beat, "Chief might mind, so I'd watch out and be careful not to get cornered by her anytime soon." Not that he actually believes Niamh would do anything, but he feels the need to inject the suggestion for it's simple humour value and continues light-heartedly. "The Sergeant you've picked though, she's not some Caprican dickhead is she? Not sure I've ever met one who didn't have that aura of smug superiority."

Lleufer grins and leans forward, "I'll pick the worst Sergeant I can find, so thanks for the tip. Part of your training will be having to put up with a ton of shit. Verbal abuse, Sergeant yelling in your face. Just like back in basic. You /do/ remember basic I hope. While I'm not interested in tearing you down and rebuilding you from scratch like we would a new recruit, we do need to know you can keep your cool under pressure. And follow orders. You can do that, can't you?"

"I joined in the two months after the Cylons nuked half the colonies," Toby deadpans back, "I don't expect the basic they threw me through to have borne any real resemblance to yours, even taking into account for fleet-corp differences. I got a basic overview from Spree's lot but then.." he'd been happily telling the tall but something at this point makes him stop almost dead and frown. "Well, then I ended up on P and since I couldn't run around shooting centurions as a civilian any more I had to sign on the dotted line." He then shrugs faintly, "was the best part of 45 years ago mind.." technically. He watches Lleu relax for a moment then notes, still lightly, "only ever disobeyed one order. Disobeyed it more than once in those two years, but same order every time. Does that make it better?"

Ynyr actually snickers, "By my book personally? It means you are consistent. That's particularly useful for bowl movements." Lleu's mouth twists. The conversation with Toby is, believe it or not, helping him to relax after all the Flynn fiasco. "Don't worry about it. Whatever else you are, you are a stubborn son of a bitch and solid enough when it counts. If you can learn to put up with a little bit of shit, and dish it right back without disrespecting officers, you'll do fine. A sense of humor is very useful in the Corps, or any branch of the military probably." Lleu lifts a hand to rub at the buzzed hair up the back of his skull, "It still gives me something between a headache, and shits and giggles, that you want to become a Marine, Shackleton. Call me a bastard, but one thing Flynn and I agreed on, is we'd actually like to see you do it."

It takes a moment for Toby to get that Lleu effectively just called him a shit, but when he does he just shrugs it off. "You just described about 90% of Taurans, only we have that bad habit of dishing it back with our fists." As for him wanting to be a marine, well, he stays quiet for a moment at those words, then offers up what he hopes is a useful explanation. "If it helps, think of it more as a means towards an end. If there was a way to do what I need to do without, then likely as not I wouldn't. But somethings you have to do, because personal feelings are less important than getting the job done. If you'd told me when I was a teenager that I'd ever join the fleet I'd've laughed in your face. If you told me I'd be looking at joining the marines then chances are I'd've done enough damage to potentially kill. Shit happens though, and you have to sort out your priorities, and deal with the rest as and when."

"Amen to that." Lleu says to the last part. He checks his chronometer, then leans forward and drops his baritone quite low so not to carry. "I'd like to speak with you later myself, about something else. But not here. I can vouch for how sharp Arpay hearing is and I've had a pretty shitty two days." The Gunnery Sergeant picks up his empty tea glass and sets it on his tray, then moves to stand. "I should get back to my duties. I'll get the forms and you can come by to pick them up in the morning, or I can send them over with somebody. In triplicate, of course. When you want to get started on some PT while we await word on the transfer, you know where to find me."

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