| Redundancy in the Laundry |
| Summary: | Dreyer finds Rakes in the laundry and asks about additional training. |
| Date: | 30/04/2016 (OOC Date) |
| Related Logs: | None. |
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| Laundry |
| Aboard a battlestar everyone except Command Staff does their own laundry, from ranking officers down to the lowest enlisted. This is one of many rooms just like this throughout the ship, and each one is nearly identical. There are baskets for holding clothes when they are pulled from the dryer and long tables for folding that run down the center of the room. Chairs sit along one wall and some magazines are stacked on a small book shelf near the door. |
| Tue Nov 15 2005 (AWD #313) |
Rakes does laundry from time to time. There's nothing strange or abnormal about that. She is a hygienic marine. She's also a studious marine, too, and currently sits in a laundry room aboard the Orion with a jumpmaster's reference materials betwixt the fingers. She's in gym shorts and a tank top, thanks to washing both her uniforms scavenged from her Fourth Anglico days and those taken from her current stay aboard the Battlestar. It's quiet though, peaceful. She's the only one physically in the room right now this late.
This just so happens to be a sort of dual-purpose trip for Dreyer. The MP has laundry to do and just so happens to be in pursuit (in a wholly non-creepy way) of the JTAC. So, it's in off-duties that the young man hikes into the laundry with a bag slung over his shoulder. He tosses it up onto one washing machine and opens the one next to it before dumping everything in. The up side to uniforms? No need to divide the laundry. There are a few non-regulation things, like a pair of jeans and a few tshirts, but in it all goes. It's not until the cycle has been started that he makes his way over towards Rakes. There's a bit of a lean to catch sight of the title of what she's reading. "You're a jumpmaster?"
Demi Rakes sits back in her seat, which happens to be on the actual flooring rather than a seat or any other object. She enjoys the cool feeling along the lengths of her legs. There's a curious look upwards when it sounds like someone is approaching and she hesitates on that note rather than return to reading. In comes Dreyer, MP-type, and she nods in greeting. Then it's back to refreshing herself with jumping out of perfectly good vehicles. There's a question tossed in her direction though. Rakes glances back up, lowering the manual closer to her thighs. "Something like that, yeah. All of us are airborne qualified but someone has to toss people out of Raptors, so here we are."
Heel to toe, then back with a dull thud. Dreyer shoves his hands into his pockets, considering. "Makes sense. Plus, new folks showing up." Air Wing, at least, has had a few he's noticed. Those who were sixteen, seventeen when the war began and now want to serve the Colonies. "Look, so. I'm wanting to… expand my horizons or whatever the frak you wanna call it." The Caprican marine finally gets his full dose of awkward from hovering over Rakes and instead crouches down, balancing on the balls of his feet. "I want to learn the radios."
"Yeah, I went to the school… actually, last year. It's an awkward angle to stay current nowadays. It's easier to conduct an air assault than a mass invasion of an area, logistically, but I'm prepared to do both options whether I'm out of the bus first or last. Besides, it helps spreading the knowledge to make us more versatile." She doesn't want to talk the man's ear off but it is what helps lead into the actual conversation. Rakes brings her knees up and then bends them outwards so that she can fold her legs underneath her body, letting the book settle in her lap. He's more at eye level so she doesn't have to crane her neck. May as well grow more comfortable. "But why do you want to learn radios specifically? Radio equipment sucks carrying around. You're lucky if they all work, too."
Anton lifts a hand, scratching along the side of his nose. His bright eyes shift past Rakes and off to the magazine rack and it's steadily-becoming-ancient issues. There's a sort of uncertainty. "Look, don't go spreading it around, but… I was stationed on Piraeus about a year before all this began until just this past week." Meaning: the war, thus far, has passed him by. Completely. "I figure maybe I can be helpful if I know how to do shit, yeah? And it's not like there's some school or program I can apply off to for something like engineering or the other fancy shit." It's not that he's intentionally lessening the import of wirelo. He's just feeling extremely awkward and it's clear by the fact that he keeps fidgeting; arms draped over thighs and hands wringing together. A tug to his ear. Fingers through his hair. The man just doesn't stop moving. "And what if something were to happen to you? Kobol willing nothing will, of course, but… best that there's someone at least learning, right?"
Don't go spreading things around? Demi opens her mouth to say something in reply but she also refuses to interrupt his answering her question, so she flatly smiles instead and then that slowly but surely warms with the rest of her bright expression. "A jack of all trades, that's always been nice to see here and there. You know, they say every marine is a rifleman. But, what they don't tell you is that not every marine is an infantryman- or woman." She nods, "That's what sets people apart. So I can see what I can teach, and Lords willing- well- we'll all pull through this in one piece, right?"
"It's not like a few months of boot can prepare you for everything," Dreyer mumbles. The man's own background has been decidedly bland. And he's keenly aware of it. When Rakes comes around to agreeing to teach, the MP looks rather relieved. He lifts a hand to his hair, running fingers through and leaving the short locks in pieces that stick at odd angles. "Great! Er, I mean, that's fantastic." A brief fall of features. Awkward. "Sorry, really, that's good. I appreciate it. I'm not… dissing being an MP or anything, but I just want to do more, y'know?"
Rakes smiles. "In your defense, I definitely enjoy the enthusiasm. A lot of people lack that nowadays, for very good reasons." But she still enjoys someone who wants to learn and, better yet, someone who is happy to do so. She wets her lips. "Not going to lie, I think being an MP in a time of war, especially, leaves a lot to desire. However, their appeal and status, and skills, aboard a Battlestar… especially the last one in the fleet, makes them unique and completely desirable. So I'm glad you're around. We'll get you up to speed for whenever you're not with said Battlestar though."
"I didn't go into the Military Police because I strictly desired it," Anton points out, nose wrinkling a bit. Sure, one understands, as an MP, that their lot isn't the most enjoyed. But you never enjoy having it said to your face. "They thought it suited me and it sounded better than just rifleman at the time." Dreyer shrugs slightly, shifting his balance on the balls of his feet a bit. "Spent a lot of time guarding gates. But I'm- yes, thank you! I'll make sure to run this by the XO. Make sure he's alright by it."
"You're welcome. And, don't worry. I'm not trying to hurt your feelings or dissuade you. Just being honest," Rakes readily admits. She opens her mouth to say more but then instead affords the moment a soft smile, unfolding her legs. She brings her knees up and settles there, slow to nod but slow to lose that warm expression too. "And in that honesty, I'll tell you that learning about communications is real easy. It's nothing intensive like learning everything there is to military law and order. I think you'll like it."
There's the rumble and rattle of a cycle finishing and Dreyer gets to his feet… before realizing it's not been nearly enough time for his to be done. The man looks mildly abashed before glancing back to Rakes. "Well. I'll take that as a vote of confidence. Most wirelos I've known act like it's one of the hardest gigs in a platoon." He seems amused by this, if anything. "But, eh, ego knows no rank, right?" Shrug. "Hopefully the XO doesn't have an issue with it. It'd be good to get some cross-training in, I think. There's not enough of us to not do those things, yeah?"
Rakes snorts at the sight of Dreyer getting up and then getting right back down, because it's definitely not his wash that has already cycled. She does look up though after checking the time because, lo and behold, hers ought to be done soon. "It's a shitty position, in my opinion. Everything is. But I love it. And even a little ego has its place, maybe," but she's in complete agreement with him. She excuses herself to stand up and check the washer. It isn't hers but she only has a few minutes left. "I agree though. Ego's for suckers, especially nowadays, and we need all the cross-training we can get. So don't mind me if I pick your brain about life aboard a battlestar, or anything to do with protocol and procedure to actually be useful on shift around here."
When Rakes does stand to check on her wash, Dreyer gets up and follows. It's not entirely puppy-like. They're having a conversation, after all. No need to shout across the facilities. Anton shoves his hands into his pockets and shrugs. "I'm not sure how much help I'd be there. Like I said, I was posted to Piraeus about two years ago. I did serve on the Athena," another Battlestar, "for a while. So I could help with peacetime stuff, but-" He looks a bit uncertain. "If you want to know what it's like here, now, I'm not really the person to ask."
Rakes leans forward to check the machine proper, again, and by the time she stands upright the young man is standing there next to her. Though it clearly surprises her, as quick as that emotion is to show and disappear, she finds it comforting to only need to turn in place and face him, to continue talking. "I just don't know much about all of this life, being back here instead of… I don't know. Every once in a while, it gets hard adjusting to something like this, something too close to what life was before the war. I need friends. I think you're the right person to ask."
This seems to surprise Anton a bit and the man doesn't seem to know what to do about it. So he just shoves his hands deeper into his pockets and looks off and away a bit. Ahem. Shoulders square, but at least there's not another shrug. "If you want someone who… hasn't lost what it was like pre-war, I guess. Look, you gotta understand, being posted on Piraeus meant I never saw any of the war. Two years ago, I'm given this top secret posting. End up out here. Turned out to be lucky, but at the time it was kinda shit. We got mail about once a month, but that was it. No contact anywhere else… until the attacks. Then the remaining ships in the Fleet suddenly come here. But there's some folks like me. Someone had to be keeping the lights on at this place, y'know?" He's both apologetic for having not seen and suffered like others have, but he's also a touch defensive. He had a part to play in it all as well, after all.
Rakes raises an eyebrow towards him. She keeps quiet though and further turns so that her back is to the washer, where she leans against, and leaves her folding her arms loosely at her stomach. She's listening. She does start to respond though, eventually. "People always say they want to go to war. It's a thing. We get indoctrinated for that kind of stuff, but then you go there and- I don't know- there's good and there's bad. It's an experience. I wouldn't wish that experience upon anyone though so I completely understand. Don't let it get to you. Out there's pretty shit." A hand comes up in a vague gesture, her head shaking left and right. "Don't rush it, wanting to do more than keeping the lights on for everyone to come home to. I'm going to need some time to teach you all the cool things I've learned. And I need someone to talk to. I mean, I have people already, but the more the merrier and all, right?"
There's a moment where Dreyer seems worried. After all, on a ship where everyone's not just suffered loss, but also been in the midst of combat and their own suffering… He's an oddity. But when Rakes finishes, he appears relieved. A lot of the tension bleeds out of his carriage. "Good. I mean… I've been worried. It's not like I want to go to war, but we're in it, and there's no changing that. So I want to be as useful as I can be." Hand lifts from pocket, fingers push through hair. "I think I can work with that, yeah."
War is hell. Rakes should find a way to say that, to describe it, but she's left with these vague chances of talking about it without legitimately talking about it. She needs to properly unwind herself, to process everything she has been through since taking leave to Picon. She shifts her weight along her trainers, almost awkwardly, and slowly nods. Her gaze is picked up from the floor. In recovering, she smiles to Dreyer. "A little worry never got anyone killed. You've made it this far. I doubt you'll freeze up. Just collect as much experience as you can before it happens," because it's bound to happen now. They're fighting in a war just to survive. "If I could, I'd trade you."
It will definitely happen now that he's been transferred to the last Battlestar the Colonials have to their name. Dreyer snorts, just a little. "I mean, yes, you would, but it's not… look, I don't tell people because so far, it seems to get me kinda… Looked down on. Makes it harder to fit in with the group." Anton's shoulder twitches upward in a shrug. "But, I'll do what I can for you. Even if it's just being a willing ear. Or a guide around the best spots on Piraeus. I can do that, too." Two years. He should know them all.
"Hell yeah. I'm all for some of that." She needs a good guide sooner than later. And that's how the conversation ends up going, Rakes offering something here and there before Dreyer does the same. All the while, they get to do their laundry; but, most importantly, she's all for the conversation with someone she likes.