AWD #271: The Old Man and the Marine
AWD #271: The Old Man and the Marine
Summary: Jameson done gone fishin'
Date: 4/Oct/2013 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: None
Jameson Warren Rahab Ygraine Kostas Leightner 
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.
Wed 05/Oct/2005 (IC Date)

Warren sits at one of the tables in the mess, flightsuit pulled down around his waist. The viper jock looks tired. Essentially four shifts a day with his attention to paperwork, and looking over flight tape, has certainly worn the man thin. He's got two cups of coffee in front of him, along with his food. He's not eating particularly fast but hey he's tired, eating is not something that’s going to be done fast. In all honesty he looks like he could fall asleep in his mashed potatos, and be completely ok with it, but he's soldiering on regardless as he picks at his food.

Kostas is in the chow line, her tray filling up like one might expect from someone who's been living on MREs since the Picon invasion. She's freshly showered at least, her buzz recently touched up even. Some of her utility pockets might look a little full. The marine looks a bit on the tired side, not maybe not as bad off as the viper jock. Finally she steps away from the line, peering about for an empty seat and heading Warren's way.

Another set of greens walking through the mess aren't noticed. Nobody cares. Everyone is so damned exhausted from the fighting, people are just eating and going through the motions. He passed through about twenty minutes ago with the only notable thing to him being a small duffel bag. He disappeared behind the counter and comes back out with a heavy tray and spots an open spot by Warren. Not the seat Kostas is heading to, though. Hell no. He'll even wait until she's down and hold her seat out for her before he plops down in the seat next to her and across from Warren. On his tray? Plates and piles of grilled fish. It looks fresh, not the kind you get in line. They're not even serving fish today. The guy doesn't say anything, he's not even wearing rank, he just begins shoving out plates of fish at people — smells like Steelhead and a lot of frakking butter and a dash of pepper.

Warren barely looks up as people are plopping down his trays. Normally he'd be paying more attention, normally he'd be aware of everyone around him but at the moment? Hell he's eating so he doesn't fall asleep at this point. And its mostly working. He reaches for his coffee nodding to those sitting, and takes a sip. And a few moment later he realizes just who sat down. Its hard to forget the admiral who flew with you in the sims just a month or so ago. His eyes go wide a moment rocketing him awake even if his brain still isn't fully enganged. "Sir," he manages out, taking another long draw from his coffee, "Didn't expect to see you down here tonight." Theres a definate glance to Kostas and then to the admiral as if to say 'I'm totally not seeing things right? That really is the admiral? I'm totally not that sleep deprived right?'

The incognito admiral's chivalry almost makes the Canceronian lose her balance, as she starts to sit down and the chair is…not where she thought it would be. Luckily the gentlemanly shove of the chair is enough to not make her wear her food. "Cap'n," she greets Warren amiably enough in her gravelly voice. "Uh…thanks," she tells the old man who seats himself next to her, and shoves a fish at her. She looks up at him, flashing him a grin. "Shit, sir!" she blurts out, after Warren identifies him as such. "You come outta retirement t' help kick ass?" Because…grandpa, wearing greens, no rank, addressed as sir—must be it! She likes old folks! "My old lady'd do th' same, except she got a bum hip now." Warren's big blue eyes get a double take though. "You okay, flyboy?"

Jameson shoves the plate of filet at Warren without a word and sets it on the edge of his tray. He puts another down on Kostas' plate. Then he gets up a little and starts passing trays down to a group of beat-and-tired Deck enlisted. He just gestures for them to eat before he sits back down and all he's left with is what everyone else is eating: meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Fork taken up, he shovels some of the potato into his mouth and makes a face as he looks between the other two as Kostas addresses him. He has a flicker of smirk at someone that doesn't recognize him. He gives Warren a subtle wave off at the identification. "Oh, something like that, miss." There's that tired country twang to his voice, words dragging out slowly. But its all said with a smile. "Yeah? I married a Marine because she came busted. She fell out the back of a truck after a night of too much drinking. Course, hell, that was only like two or three years ago. But the Marines busted her up good before. Ain't never let something get her down." He just holds his smile while talking about her, taking another bite of taters. He looks over towards Warren and motions to the fish. "Eat it or I'm gonna feed it to an enlisted. They'll start circling like vultures any minute. Blood in the water? From a Viper pilot? You play a dangerous game leaving that unclaimed, Captain." He Knows.

Warren looks back to Kostas, "hrm? wha? Oh yeah. Yeah i'm good. Just tired. You try flying missions constantly, reviewing tape, writing up reports, begging the deckies to get you the damage reports for your vipers constantly and you'll look as bad as me. Swear to god alert 5 might as well be 'you're flying the next fraking call that comes out'" He smirks tirely and takes another sip of his coffee and another bite of his food and then Jameson's talking about fish…fresh fish. He looks at it, surprised, jealous, and is Jameson totally giving him permission to get fresh fish? Really? Well he's certainly not going to turn that down, hell no. He reaches over and stabs his fork into some and pulls it over to his plate starting carve it up. "Thank you sir, I don't intend to let anyone smell blood in the water. Frak that. Fresh fish? Haven't tasted that in forever. Not since before war day sir. I'll be damned if I turn that down." He does give a nod over towards Kostas then Jameson's plate as if to point the fish out and what he said. Man he really is trying to mend that bridge isn't he even in his mostly exhausted state.

Ygraine makes her way into the mess. She's recently showered and still pink from it, but she's the most upbeat she's been since the invasion start. She collets her usual: egg salad sandwiches and lots of purple drink, and upon gathering up all her vittles, heads over to where she sees Warren. "Toast, Toast!" She's like a cheerful, excited puppy. "I made Ace! I didn't think I was ever gonna." She slides into the seat next to him unbidden, turns to face her fellow tablemades, and a sandwich makes it about halfway to her mouth before she pauses. Her mouth is still open.

Kostas laughs out loud at that, probably the first genuine and whole hearted one she's had in weeks. "You know how ta pick 'em then, Sir!" She tells Jameson sagely. And like a good marine, it's the fresh protein that's going down the gullet first. Meaning luckily for her she shuts up for awhile. It disappears in record time, her face showing her appreciation, and an afterglow even when she starts plowing into the loaf and potatoes. "That trout, Sir? Heard someone say that was a fish you eat. Pretty frakkin' good. Dunno that I ever had that before, unless it was in th' animal medley." She indicates her meatloaf with her fork. She looks between Warren and Jameson, clearly getting that there's something she's missing here. "You a pilot before, Sir?" she asks. She looks up curiously as Ygraine comes in and takes a seat, giving her a friendly nod. She gives Warren a look as Ygraine stops with mouth open. And then she raises a brow. Are all Wingers this frakkin' weird?

"Ahhhhh don't sweat it, Captain. I go down to P and do some fishing when I can find someone to fill in for me. I went down and got about thirty or forty pounds of sturgeon and steelhead type fish before we left for Picon. You can't conduct a proper invasion without having some good food to pass around." Jameson looks over to Ygraine and grins. He shoots her a wink from that sun-beaten face and lifts his mug of coffee. "Congrats. Always glad to hear another Wiper make ace. Making history, darlin'." He then continues his gaze to the young woman beside him. "Oh most definitely. I did the best thing I could think of. I found myself a retiring Sergeant Major and married her. Kids were already grown, first husband she kicked out of bed. She retired, moved out to my ranch, never looked back. Still bitches that my ranch rifles don't have enough oomph." He snorts a laugh and forks up another bite of meatloaf. "And nah, this is just the regular old meatloaf. Nothing special. And yeah, I was a pilot once upon a time. Most of these knuckleheads probably know that already, though. I was like this young lady here-" he gestures to Ygraine. "I was an ECO in the first war. Sat my happy ass in the cockpit for the first time at eighteen."

Warren glances up at Ygraine, "Milkshake! Oh grats. Hells yeah." He moves onto that second cup of coffee he has. He looks practically exhausted. Like he's eating to stay awake at this point. He takes a long sip from his coffee before he takes a bite of the fish and closes his eyes a long moment letting out a long mmmmmmm. As if it was a coming to the lords of kobol moment. Fresh fish? Its a totally religious moment it seems for the pilot from Picon. He mmms a moment before speaking up a moment, "Don't let him sell himself short. He loves predators, and flies a mean ECO in one. Did a round in the sims with him, and he still has it." He glances to kostas, "The fish is good, let me tell you. Forgot how much I missed the taste of it."

Leightner enters the Mess, rubbing his face into strange shapes, unbuttoning his duty fatigues, classic sign of just coming off shift. He heads toward the line for food, slightly zombieish, allowing his military training to take over and follow the flow of Mess hall. He might wake up once he gets a tray of food, if just to choose a place to sit.

"Thanks." Ygraine says brightly, and with a little shrug of one freckled shoulder, starts to eat one of her sandwiches. "Didn't realize ya missed fish so much, Toasty. When we're back at P we can go fishin' and roast 'em right on th'spot. Me and Dolly did that a few times."

Kostas takes a swig of her coffee as she listens to the old man. "Oh? Maybe I get lucky'n find me a guy like that if I don't take a shot to th' head before th' end of things, neh?" She smile broadly at the present tense reference. "Good ta hear, Sir." She glances to Warren. "Figured he got some good moves if he scored one'f our E9s!" she says proudly. The tall medic in line catches her eye and she waves at him. "Oy, Leightner!" she bellows, a nice set of lungs for yelling through a combat zone. She waves again, beckoning, before sheepishly telling her tablemates. "Sorry."

Jameson chuckles lightly at Warren, sipping the mug of coffee to wash down the food. "Uh huh. Just trying to make an old man feel better about himself. I see how it is. I walk away you start talkin about the fart I didn't know I let off. But trust me." He waggles a finger. "I knew. And that's the lingering middle finger." Aircrew never changes. Ever. To Ygraine, Jameson taps his mug once on the table to get her attention. "Get a Raptor. Head to the third valley west of where Sheridan is. Its about forty miles. Head out there on about a two-nine-five and you're looking for a two mile stretch of river that's straight as an asscrack, but the rapids can be seen from ten thousand feet. Set down there at the bottom end of the rapids. That's good fishin. Just don't tell nobody." Kostas gets an easy nod. "Even if you do. Scars have their place. Guys like I think you might be looking for? They'll want proof they aren't getting ceramics. You look like about one-twenty of steel and gunpowder, though, so I think you'll be alright."

Leightner lifts his head, taking in a breath. His name in a Cancerion bellow. He turns, "Sir." Heavy Virgonese accent responding back like a DRADIS ping. THEN he opens his eyes, Yep, seeing Kostas, he focuses more fully seeing her actually beckon and starts moving that way. The universal apology to her tablemates causes him to speed up a bit, he's operating on the assumption she needs something from him. The tall Corpsman looks around as he walks, from his height /he cannot see rank pins on anyone/ he scans faces and smiles at Yggy, the only other person he knows.

Warren smirks tiredly at Ygraine's comment, "I'm from Picon…fish is kinda our thing. Frak this is delicious." To tell the truth with how tired he is it could be catfish or someother such fish and it be doubtfull if he cared. He smirks again, tiredly, oh ever so tiredly at Jameson's comment, "Sir you keep the fresh fish coming and I'll polish your boots every day…even if your gas sets off the radiological alarms" Its half serious but he's certainly enjoying the fish, thats for sure. Its the only thing he's been picking at and eating since he got it on his plate. He glances up at the corpsman a moment and gives him a nod, but its the fish that has his priority. But even as he goes about devouring it, it seems its the coffee thats keeping him awake at this point and he's certainly drinking plenty of it.

Yggy pays close attention to the instructions, upon realizing where it will lead. "Thanks, sir. I like myself a lil' fishin' and huntin' and I reckon th'backpay when this is over it'll be a cabin in th'woods for a good long while." She chugs some of her purple drink. Pure sugar, that stuff.

Ygraine adds, "Cheers, Leightner. Pull up a seat if ya wanna."

Late night. Rahab was trying to drink coffee and smoke a coffin nail while pouring over some book on some random topic. Sadly, the long hours and constant flights have taken a toll on Captain, and he's found to be asleep, arms pulled up around the book and his face planted firmly on one of pages that he had been reading, but apparently failed to do.

"Guess we see 'bout that, Sir. Guess it gives me somethin' ta maybe look forward to, neh?" Kostas winks at Jameson. She's busy shoveling her food like only a marine on a mission can, listening as the conversation spills around her, and actually feeling relaxed for the first time in awhile. "You want this spot, Leightner? Just about ta leave. By th' way, drop by Sickbay when you got a chance?" she grins at him. "Cap'n Ommanney'd like a word with ya when you got time. We gotta keep him from gettin' too bored in there. Told him I'd tell ya when I next saw ya." She stands, and smiles down at Jameson. "Thanks again, Sir. Hope ta see ya 'round again soon. Don't show these guys up too bad, now." And with that she'll be shoving off, after checking the clock—shit, almost time for the shuttle. Double time it!

Jameson snorts. "I don't deliver fish too often. Rare treat. Hint to rank, Captain: Don't let your officers underneath you get too spoiled. They start to expect things. Then its just a whole new set of problems." He clicks his teeth, tilting his head with the potential issues of fish every day. He gives Shakes a nod in reply before scooping up the rest of the regular mess grub and downing his coffee. "Alright. Back to CIC. Marine? See you round, too. You kids be safe out there. Bend them frakkers over a couch." He taps the mug on the table and moves off.

Leightner nods his head to Kostas as she speaks, "Aye sir, I'll speak to him soonest." He then moves quickly to allow the Ensign to hit the jump drive on her way out, then a glance to Jameson. CIC. Someplace he never goes unless someone is leaking. He straightens and looks to Yggy. "I'll grab something, and be back. Just a mo." he then starts off for the food with no idea the gravitational pull of the BRASS in close proximity.

Warren smirks a bit at Jameson's comments and nods, "Sir, yes Sir. Don't spoil them. I'll make sure of that." He yawns tiredly glancing up at the clock and then at his food and depleted coffee supplies. "Frak I should get some rack time before my next shift in a couple of hours," he says as he starts to get up as his coffee supply dwindles.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License