AWD #057: Welcome to Our Fine Mess
Welcome to Our Fine Mess
Summary: Various crew members converge on the mess hall to hydrate and feed. Anderson is new aboard and gets a look at what he's getting into.
Date: 04/03/2013 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: Day after Phin's promotion drunkening.
Agrippa Anderson Holtz Morgan Phin Samtara Ygraine 
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.
AWD #57

Phin is hydrating. And enjoying a fairly monster hangover. He's at a corner table with a very tall glass of water and no meal. As for the mess hall itself, it's populated by a spattering of crew, as it almost always is.

Agrippa had hydrated earlier, a lot, having done the partying shtick quite a few times when he was back at the Academy. Studied hard, partied harder, that was his class's motto back then on Caprica. Good times. He had just finished the longest Alert Five ever and is now back at the Mess Hall for more hydration and some food sa well.

Phin has been hydrating throughout the day. It's part of a process. He's also wearing aviator shades indoors. Which, despite how stupid it looks, he's not about to remove. Agrippa is spotted, and offered a raised forearm. In lieu of any more expressive waving.

Catching sight of the raised forearm, Agrippa raises his arm in return as acknowledgement before going to the line where food and drinks are served. He gets something simple, a sandwich cut in half diagonally and also a large glass of water. He adds a brownie for good measure as well before taking his tray and joining Phin at his table, "Dolly! How's your head?"

Phin just gives Agrippa a very dry double thumbs-up, as to his head. And drinks more water. "Yo, Punch. It's frakking fantastic. What the hell happened last night, anyway?" He adds. "Somebody showed me a picture of my bare ass diving in the river down on Piraeus." His own memory of this is spotty.

"Fun happened, everyone got shitfaced. Very shitfaced, and I think we found a pond or a river or something and went skinny dipping." Agrippa's own recollection wasn't that clear as he was busy battline the tequila monster in his head while partying with the rest. "I do remember carrying your heavy ass back to Viper Country though."

"That was you?" Phin offers the other Viper pilot a half-abashed grin. "Thanks. And thanks for not dropping me on the hood of a Viper or something. Dude I went to Academy with ended up on top of the flag pole after our grad parties." Drink. "Yeah, it was fun. The parts of it I can remember. Parts of it I can't quite? Also, fun. It was cool of everyone to come out like that." He sounds a little surprised that they did, even.

Laughing, Agrippa shakes his head, "If we were squadron mates or you were a bus driver instead, might've left you spread eagle on the tarmac without a stitch of clothes." At the surprise of a ton of people showing up, the Ensign nods his head in agreement, "When I heard about your promotion, I was on the last leg of my CAP, so I arrived late. Was hella surprised to see that many peple there. Guess good news is something to celebrate with extra oomph these days." Never know when someone will bite the bullet and join the Gods.

"Never know when it'll be your last chance or a party?" Phin finishes that sort of grim thought for him. "But, yeah. It was cool all the same." Drink. "How was CAP?" Not that he expects many fireworks beyond 'quiet, flew around Piraeus a few times.' The CAPs around the planet, thankfully, tend toward sedate.

Nodding his head solemnly, Agrippa takes a long drink from the glass of water before giving half of the sandwich a big bite, munching away. After chewing and swallowing, he is able to answer, "Same old, same old. Clear skies over Piraeus, if it wasn't boring, then I would've missed your party. So for once I was glad it ended without issue."

"Usually glad of that, man. 'Least out here," Phin says. "More than enough drama back in Colonial space. You getting used to it, by the way? Not just the way the Vipers aboard fly, but the ship in general?"

Nodding his head, Agrippa takes another long drink from his glass before slouching back in his seat, just lounging now as he eats, "As use to as I can be with all that's happened. I'm not sure if I'll fully get use to our new lives, but I am getting adjusted to the crew here. Different… but not in a bad way. Once we're out there flying though, it's just like being with my old mates. Partly due to the training that kicks in, but also because we fly together, or we die together."

"Yeah, the sticks and bus drivers here are solid," Phin says. After drinking some more. He'll need more water soon. "Yeah. I mean, it's not what I was expecting but…I was expecting eighteen months out in the middle of nowhere doing circles around the top-secret planet all day, every day. All the pilots who were here during the first tour used to talk about how boring it was. Well, still is out there but…in general, less than boring. Bizarre to think it's only been a few months, y'know?"

As a bit of the Orion Taskforce's past is revealed, Agrippa listens in silence, taking the time to eat and gather some information. "Well, the whole ball game has changed… no longer boring. The damn tin cans can jump us at anytime it seems, once they get the info on us. And we have a whole colonies to save. Who knows if any other parts of the Fleet are still alive."

"There's supposed to be a resistance some places. I guess part of Fleet HQ survived down on Picon," Phin says. "Or…people from it. I don't know. Everything I hear about Picon these days sounds really weird. Our Raptor drivers who died there on the last run - Peacock and Ditch - supposedly got shot down by friendly fire. Like, humans."

Nodding his head, Agrippa knows that there is a lot of confusion and lack of intel, can't be helped though when the backbone of the Colonial Navy is broken in pieces, shattered beyond repair. "But that isn't the Fleet. I finally read the reports a couple of weeks ago. Read that the majority of the Fleet became shooting stars." The Ensign then lapses back into silence, taking the time to finish the other half of the sandwich.

"Yeah, true that," Phin mutters. "Hard to count all the things that did. But, we're still flying, right?" Whatever comfort that is. It's unclear how much it gives to Phin. "Whatever's going on down on Picon, I'd like to get out there more. Help out the people holding the fort down there. At least we've got some ops coming up. More belt recons and stuff. We found some people alive when we went down to Virgon. Just a family but…it's something. Makes you wonder how many more are out there and just…scattered."

At least they are still flying and that is probably one of the things that has kept Agrippa going. If he was grounded and seeing the end of the human race approaching, he would be in a much different state today. As for helping out Picon, there is a slight nod from Punchdrunk, "I would too but that seems more like ground action. Vipers don't handle as well in atmos as they do in vacuum. Which reminds me, I should put more time into the Predator sims, a lot more time."

"I kind of like flying in atmo. Gravity gives it a different feel. You can kind of…ride it," Phin says. "But, yeah. I know what you mean, about the Preds. Yggs and I were going to put in more time in the sims, but things've been kind of nuts. Haven't been able to set aside as much for it as I'd like. I did quals for them back in flight school, but my scores weren't where they were on the Vipers. And if we get more atmo action, those'll probably be where it'll be."

"Same here, I can fly a Predator without crashing it into the side of a mountain but for me to get anywhere close to the comfort level I have with Vipers, will require a ton more hours." Predators are just atmospheric jets to Agrippa, he didn't have a hard time flying them but they were sluggish, slower. "So now you're a Lieutenant, how's the new life? Feeling more responsible and walking with a bigger swagger, Dolly?" He asks in amusement, his questions obviously asked in jest.

Ygraine arrives from the Fore Corridor.

Phin snorts, as to the swagger. "Not today. Kind of blows my mind, honestly. I mean, I had the 'Captain by thirty' delusions back when I was a Middie, but that was different. I'm pretty sure the CAG's just trying to impress upon me that I really, really shouldn't frak up." He is seated at a corner table with Agrippa. He is drinking a large glass of water and wearing aviator shades indoors. It would look really douchey if he didn't look really hung-over.

"Don't see why you would frak up, Dolly. And Captain by thirty isn't out of reach." Agrippa says as he eyes the brownie remaining on his tray, his hand on his glass of water. "I'm sure you've more than deserve it." At the moment, both Agrippa and Phin are seated at one of the tables in a mess. In front of the Ensign is a tray where an empty plate rests, a brownie is left and a glass of water as well.

Ygraine makes her way in, freckled skin pink from a recent shower. Somebody clearly has spent hours in her flight suit and needed to scrub clean once given the opportunity. She heads for the sandwiches, piling up some egg salad sandwiches and some suspiciously purple liquid.

Anderson lingers in the entrance, smiling and exchanging 'pleasantries' with a female officer assigned to medical as a nurse. Well - pleasantries is sort of mild, especially for Anderson. His face is a new one this side of sickbay. He came in on the last rescue missing to Picon. Hasn't been seen much since. "Yeah, yeah… all the time. Just catch me after your shift ends," he says to the woman, smiling and watching her walk away to a lasting gaze. She has an impressive wear to her uniform after all. God bless her tailor. However, after she turns to corridor, the slips into the Mess Hall.

"Well, there's definitely going to be more attrition now," Phin says wry, about 'Captain by 30.' "Can't say I'm hoping for that, though. Anyway. We'll see. They're just jig pins. It's not even a real lieutenant, just a few less people I have to call 'sir.'" He spots Ygraine, offering her a raised forearm-and-palm that is sort of a wave and sort of not. He probably also spots Anderson but, not knowing the guy, he's not semi-waved at.

Shaking his head, Agrippa drinks at his glass of water for now, eyeing his brownie from time to time, as if stalking it like a lion stalking its prey. "Jig pins or not, it's close enough to full Lieutenant, Dolly. Maybe Lieutenant with training wheels." Seeing his wingman waving, the Ensign turns and sees Ygraine as well, mirroring Phin's wave.

"Hey, sir." Yggy calls out in playful jeer toward Phin, and wriggles her nose at Agrippa. Turning she checks out the newcomer and notes cheerily, "New face, huh? You one of the boys we picked up on Picon?"

Anderson's greens scan the room, typical Battelstar, with a been there done that sort of look. However, you can just tell who's a stick and who isn't, so he'd note Agrippa and Phin both. The dip of his chin indicating a modicum of respect all ranks set aside. Viper Pilot isn't a joke. Right about then, he's looking towards Ygraine and he smiles in that charming fashion that guys like him, you know 'those guys' do around women. The fresh scar on his right cheek wrinkles slightly. "Yeah, Picon. Fracken rock," he says offering her both hand, and introduction at the same time. "Anderson Spade."

Phin winces at the 'sir' from Ygraine. Calling things hurts his brain. "Frak, that is surreal. Please don't. Also, hey." Agrippa earns a smirk. "Or water wings." His head turns toward Andereson with interest, when Ygraine points him out as one of the newbs from Picon. This does get Anderson a wave. It's not a super-enthusiastic wave, but he's not up to super-enthusiasm at the moment.

Ygraine extends her own hand. "Ygraine Vashti. You can call me Milkshake. Got your transfer to the battlestar processed, or ya headed back to Picon?" Ygraine then laughs at Phin's insistence that he not call her that. "Nevermind." She tugs on Anderson's shirt like she has a perfect right to, guiding him to Phin and Agrippa's table.

Hearing the sir from Ygraine, Agrippa can't help but laugh, Phin's reaction perfect, "Gonna have to get use to it, Dolly, if you want to keep up the good work you've been doing. One day, it will be 'Captain Sir!'" He can't help but tease at his wingman's promotion before turning his attention to Anderson who is one of those from Picon. While introductions are being exchanged between the new guy and Yggy, Agrippa turns his attention back to his brownie, finally sitting up from his slouched position and begins to lean over it, getting ready to jump the brownie.

"Milkshake , huh?" The remark is immediately followed by his eyes dropping to Ygraine's chest. I mean it is a logical conclusion. "Oh, Frack no. I'm not stepping on that rock again anytime soon. Gods help me, ever if I have my say, and the CAG has a good heart," Anderson says matter-of-fact. The follow up distracting him from ogling her further. Of course, no more than her pulling him along to meet the swinging 'sticks' seated in the corner. He looks them over, offering a bob of his head, and "gents," right off the bat.

"You guys are not calling me 'sir'," Phin says firmly. "Umm…that's an order. Or something." He does not sound very authoritative. He automatically kicks a chair out for Ygraine when she joins the table. And one for Anderson, too, while he's doing it. He waits until she's done with Anderson before also extending his hand to the newbie from Picon. He's a righty. "Welcome aboard, man. Phin McBride. Or Dolly, or Dolls, whatever. All works on the wireless. I fly with the Strikes."

Anderson would shake hads to Phin of course. "Anderson. Anderson Spade."

Holtz arrives from the Fore Corridor.

Ygraine rolls her eyes, but doesn't explain her call sign. With a chuckle, she notes, "Like as not the Strikes are where you're gonna end up, assumin' you're a stick too. Yep, that's Dolly - he just got his jig pins, and that's Punchie. And trust me, it's all about how ya say it. She lets go of Anderson's shirt to bend down and whisper into Dolly's ear.

Anderson's reaction to hearing Ygraine's callsign brings an amused laugh from Agrippa as it was the same exact reaction he had back in the Recovery Bay when he first met the ECO Officer. He does scoop up his brownie and takes a bite, savoring the taste of the chocolate pastry. When introductions are swung his way, Punchdrunk nods his head to Anderson, his greeting made in silence as he is chewing away at the moment.

"In the end it'll be the CAG's call. But new orders would be fracken welcome," Anderson says to Ygraine. He's still standing, back to the entrance while he chats amiably with the other three pilots. "Not much of Reaper Squadron left to go back to," he adds unfortunately. So yeah, he must indeed be a stick too.

Phin drinks more water, for his part. He's at a corner table with the rest, wearing aviator shades indoors. Which probably looks ridiculous, but also keeps down the light. Whatever Ygraine whispers to him makes him blush. Just a little. "You never listen to me," he smirks to her. Though he smiles as he says it. More seriously, he nods to Anderson. "Lots of that going around, man. We're getting a fair few transfers in here lately. I don't know. It's good to see, I guess. Means people survived out there, even if not as many as we'd like."

"This is true." Yggy conceeds the point, and then reaches out to break off a piece of Agrippa's brownie, popping it into her mouth and giving him a crumbly kiss on his cheek in exchange for her theft. She moves to take a seat and looks up at Anderson. "Why ya standin' around? Take a load off."

Taking mock affront to a piece of his brownie being stolen, Agrippa eyes Ygraine before the offense is soothed with the friendly cheek kiss. He does eventually pop the rest of it in his mouth for another mouthful before grabbing his glass of water, half full now, and lounges back in his seat, relaxing again. More chewing before speaking.

Holtz enters the mess hall, stifling a yawn with a black-gloved hand. Clad in a set of slightly rumpled blues, he makes his way over towards the hot water container and starts making himself a cup of tea. The still-burning nub of a cigarette rests on his lips; he puts it out in an ashtray on a nearby table as he finishes making his drink.

Something Phin says causes Anderson to lowers his eyes. Survivors guilt? Anger? His lips pure into a thin line for a moment, however the reaction is dismissed with military swiftness. When he looks back up, he's at ease again. His green eyes roll easily over both men, and Ygraine. "Yeah," he replies to the woman's insistence - distracted. He moves to take a seat, though he moves slowly. Obviously covering up a injury of some kind to his knee. Once sitting, he relaxes and that charismatic smile returns. "So, CAG.. any words of wisdom from the deck?"

Phin catches the lowered-eyes from Anderson, enough to look briefly abashed, at least. He shrugs and half-starts to say something else, but he just lets it lie. "Major Sheperd's a decent guy," he says, of the CAG. "Old-hat SAR driver. He usually doesn't bust your balls too much unless you've really frakked up. He'll see your set right." Hey, there's Holtz. A forearm is raised at the man in a semi-wave.

Ygraine unwraps one of her sandwiches, and espying Holtz, she lifts her hand and offers a wave as well. "And speaking of important people to know, that's Captain Holtz. Storm. He'll likey be your squadron leader, so make nice." she advises, adding, "But would ya like the best advice I can give ya about gettin' on in our air wing?" Oh, here we go, Ygraine's Chapter and Verse.

Agrippa also spots Holtz's entrance and raises a hand to wave to their Squadron Leader though there is no shouting across the Mess. Plus, he's still chewing on the brownie, long enough that he has to wash the rest down with water. He does nod in agreement with Phin's assessment of the CAG, remembering how he ran into some trouble with the man though it was more than worth it, which also earned him his first callsign.

Astute, Anderson shifts a glance over his shoulder, following Phin's gesture to Holtz. Before Ygraine even speaks, the Captain gets a respectful nod from him, then he turns back to the table. "Sure thing Freckles, lay it on me," comes his reply in an easy tone. His smile is genuine. Anderson isn't one to shy away from a fight, a woman, alcohol or information. Everything has a time and place.

The waves from the pilots' table catch Holtz' attention out of the corner of his eye, and he takes them as an invitation whether or not they were intended as such. He takes a sip from his still-steaming mug as his booted feet carry him towards where the others are sitting. "Evenin'." He greets each of them with a short nod, eyes moving around the group, lingering for a moment on the unfamiliar Anderson before he pulls up a chair. "How's tricks?" A sly look at Phin in particular. "How's your head, boyo?" Probably a reference to the party at Charlie's.

"I'm pretty sure I'm actually dead, sir," Phin deadpans to Holtz. "It's just taking awhile to kick in." His head half-tilts toward Ygraine, curious about her sage advice.

Ygraine lets out a laugh. "Make sure t'thank your ECO when they're the ones keepin' th'Raiders off your ass." she tells Anderson pointedly, and then offers, "Hey, Holtz, this is Anderson Spade. Likely he's gonna get transferred into th'Strikes."

"Evening Bossman." Agrippa greets Holtz when the larger man joins the group before glancing to Phin, smirking, "If you're dead, then you'd be in Hades and this place is too bright. Plus, I'm not that eager to pay the Ferryman to cross the damned river." He then grows quiet as introductions are made again, for Holtz this time.

"Spade, Anderson B.. Reaper Squadron, Picon and looking to transfer Cap, just like the lady said," Anderson adds, moving his chair to the left to create more room at the table. Those playing really close attention would see a little wince of pain when he stresses his knee. It should be expected. Those boys Picon took some heat. He glances back at Ygraine, chuckling softly, green eyes alight. "So not just another pretty face, eh? Wise as well." Obviously the merit of not getting blown to Frack and back isn't lost on Ltjg. Spade.

Holtz nods slowly at the introduction, raising his mug in Anderson's direction. "Kurt Holtz, Strikes lead. For the moment, anyway," he replies, returning the introduction with a tiny quirk of his lips. "Good to have ya. I'll take all the sticks I can get my hands on." The captain does catch that little wince from Anderson. "You fit to fly, Lieutenant, or're you gonna need to see the sawbones before the cockpit?" He chuckles over at Phin. "Guess we better go ahead and divvy up your shit, then, yeah?" Agrippa and Ygraine are each acknowledged with a thin smile.

Phin half-smirks at Agrippa. "Touche." He guzzles more water. "Not just yet, Storm. I think I'm reanimating. I want to keep my stuff."

Morgan arrives from the Fore Corridor.
Samtara arrives from the Fore Corridor.

"Besides," Yggy chimes in matter-of-factly, "If he dies, I get all his stuff." she smiles fleetingly at Holtz before nomming down on her egg salad sandwich. Then, she points at Anderson. "See? He thinks I'm wise. He'll get on just fine."

Anderson's got his back to the entrance, seated at a table among the others present. "Just got the all clear sir," Anderson replies to Holtz. That explains the grab-ass with the nurse in the corridor anyway. Or its /one/ explanation. "I can fly. Helluva lot more use out there than in here at any rate." He relaxes back, stretching his leg out, lest it further betray him.

More water is taken in by Agrippa as he also keeps himself hydrating, draining the rest of his glass before shooting Ygraine a protesting look, "Whoa now, why would you get all his stuff? He's one of ours, we get the majority share of his booty."

Chase leaves, heading toward the Fore Corridor [FC].

"My stuff's not that nice, guys," Phin assures the table at large. "You're going to build up your expectations and be totally disappointed." Drink. More water. Hydrating is a thing he's concentrating on. He shoves his aviator shades up onto his nose. They've fallen a notch. He is sitting at a corner table with the larger group of air wing folk.

"Gotta go with Grip on this one, Shakes. Don't exactly work that way," Holtz says to Ygraine with a wink and a wry smile. He looks over to Anderson, his expression taking on a more serious cast, but finally he nods, accepting the other pilot at his word. The captain's lips purse as he lightly blows the steam from his drink before taking another sip.

While his companion, Dr. Nadir, is busily scribbling notes in her palm-sized notebook, Morgan is serving as her eyes, walking ahead of her but close enough to prevent her from running into anything, and glancing often behind him. "I do hope that the colonel is right, and they come in relatively small batches," he worries. "We'll need to secure what supplies we can."

"No plan that includes civilians ever goes off, Lieutenant, even remotely close to the projected path," Nadir replies, making another note and reaching for the reading glasses that were tucked into one of her pockets. "The only course is to sketch out every viable bad option that could occur, draft potential avenues to address the likelihood worst case scenarios, and allow for enough flexibility in all plans to make it up on the fly." She looks up at that point, realizes that it's important to step THROUGH the hatch into the mess hall and then does so. "The stronger likelihood is that these refugees with arrive with nothing but the clothes up on their backs and what precious items they decided to keep safe, and precious little more than that. Of any given population, how many are farmers, masons, construction workers, builders of any sort? We'll have office jockeys, drones, paper pushers, mid-level management types, lawyers - by all that's logical, we'll end up with lawyers and bureaucrats and politicians, the usual sampling of religious fanatics as well as those who are just crazy enough to have survived but not crazy enough to have been smothered yet by their neighbors. So," and the ball point pen is clicked again, "coffee?"

Ygraine makes a face at both Agrippa and Holtz, twitching her nose in faux disagreeability. Which lasts of all of three seconds. "As if Phinny wouldn't fight for my stuff if I ever bought the farm." Black humor, anyone?

So maybe Anderson isn't a hundred percent? He's still ninety-nine percent better than nothing. A pilot isn't anything without his stick between his thighs, so to speak. Leg is healing nicely anyway, so long as he doesn't go frackking it up with any extracurricular activities. "So, eyeballing you Dolly I feel like I left sickbay a day late. What'd I miss?"

"Well, gang, I'm gonna go hit the sack. Early CAP tomorrow before the briefing and had Alert Five earlier. Not sure which is worse, CAP or Alert Five where /nothing/ happens." Agrippa says, apparently not enjoying having to sit inside a Viper cockpit doing absolutely nothing for an entire shift while listening to the comms of nothing happening. Slowly, the Viper pilot rises to his feet and grabs his tray. There is a pause before Punchdrunk heads to deposit the tray away, glancing back to Phin, "I wouldn't be surprised if Phin looks good in your bra and panties, Shake."

"Tooth and nail, darlin'," Phin drawls wry at Ygraine. He's good with black humor. Though he offers her a little nudge and grin as he says it, to take the edge off. To Anderson he replies, "Some…everyone bought me a lot of shots. And now…everyone seems to have incriminating photos of me. The swimming's choice down on Piraeus if you get a chance to do it, though. I think. I vaguely remember it being choice." Agrippa is snorted at. "That's why they call me Dolls. Later, man. Thanks again for the lift last night." He turns his head a the new entrants to the mess hall. Samtara gets a polite, "Hey, Doc."

"I'd go with Alert Five," Holtz replies helpfully to Agrippa. "At least on CAP you're doin' something." He lifts his mug in salute. "Night, Ensign." There's a snort at the mention of the swimming on Piraeus. "Wouldn't exactly call 'em incriminating, Dolls," he deadpans. "Now, if someone'd brought a camera down to the river, on the other hand… now that's the stuff blackmail is made of." Grin. He pauses long enough to wave silently at Samtara and Morgan as he drinks his tea.

"Aye," Morgan confirms with a nod to Samtara when she predicts the high probability that the first wave will be the ones who are least ready to cope with their new home. "We'll have our hands full. I've no doubt about that. They'll have just enough clout to gain first passage, and as soon as they find that we don't have all of the comforts of home waiting, they'll howl like wolves." He shrugs. "They'll sink or swim." He glances around the room, and nods to the pilots grouped around their table, and waves back to Holtz before he looks to the chow-line. "Coffee /and/ some food. That was the agreement," he reminds Samtara with a grin.

Punchdrunk was offered a nod, then Oooo a doctor. That isn't good. Hopefully she wasn't /his/ doctor. Phin alerting him to a doc on deck causes Anderson to sink in his chair a little - hopeful. Completely, moderately, aw hell they all end in medically fit don't they? He glances back subtly, a calm settling over him when he see Dr. Nadir and Morgan. Nope, not the sawbones he had (assuming there is more than one aboard). "Hate I missed it," he says turning his full attention back to Phin, Ygraine and Holtz. "Haven't had an opportunity to tie a good one on in way to long."

"It's only compromising if there's somethin' to be ashamed of." Ygraine beams. "I ain't got nothin' t'be ashamed of." She grins then, casting an innocent look Holtz-wards.

"They've got an actual bar down on the planet," Phin says to Anderson. "Not bad, either, for what it is. We should celebrate your intro to the Wing, once your get your assignment done properly. I will be…drinking less. But, y'know, more for you."

Nadir exchanges a nod with the Lt. McBride, "Lieutenant, whose call sign is Dolly though I still don't quite understand why," she remarks in a quieter aside to Morgan before nodding then at Ygraine, "this one is Milkshake, also known as Ensign Vashti," she nods a greeting then towards the Captain, "Sir," whose call sign she does not know but imagines that it's just as situation-specific to have earned it at the rest.

Holtz shoots a lascivious wink back in Ygraine's direction. "It's a dump," he says sardonically at the mention of Charlie's. "But it's our dump. And after a round or three, you don't even notice." More tea goes down the hatch. It's cool enough now to gulp as opposed to sip.

Anderson was a patient, that came in from Picon. His mild concussion is all better. The scar on his cheek, healing nicely. The persistent knee injury from too much Pyramid, aggregated. However, he's staying off it as much as possible, and managed to brute force, and flirt his way through the last assessment his nurse gave him. Never let it said a man can't bat his eyelashes. "Oh, now cutting it up in an actual bar sounds exactly like my kind of night, Dolly. I'm down for that. Provided the CAG pushes the orders through." He quiets some as the others arrive at the table. Especially the Doc. He has one of those 'This is not the Viper Pilot you're looking for' Jedi mind trick expressions.

Morgan says, "Dolly, Milkshake, Sir," Morgan greets the pilots in turn, giving each a respectful nod. "Lieutneant Morgan," he introduces himself. "I heard about the flying, and the party that it earned. That's quite a haul. How's chow?" he glances toward the counter, but quickly returns his attention to the pilots and Samtara."

"Dolly, Milkshake, Sir," Morgan greets the pilots in turn, giving each a respectful nod. "Lieutneant Morgan," he introduces himself. "I heard about the flying, and the party that it earned. That's quite a haul. How's chow?" he glances toward the counter, but quickly returns his attention to the pilots and Samtara.

"Hey, Doc!" Ygraine calls out in greeting, and then notes in a hushed tone to Anderson, "Might want t'downplay the knee while the doc is around. She's hardcore."

"It's like my name, sir," Phin replies promptly, to Samtara's question about his callsign. "Phin. Dol-phin. Makes total sense." That manages to sound less true every time he tells someone it. A nod to Morgan. "Good to meet you, L-T. Chow's…umm." He can't really speak to it at the moment. Though that does remind him. "I need coffee. To go, I think. I'll see you guys later. And totally, dude." That last with a point to Anderon, about venturing to the actual bar.

Anderson fixes Ygraine with a look, one of the looks that could totally peal the paint back off her Raptor. "Naughty, Milkshake. Very naughty." Obviously no hard feelings though, cause at length he smirks, and turns in his chair to face Samtara, and Morgan. "Evening Doc, LT. Anderson Spade." He makes the introduction with polite respectfulness. Arrogant certainly, stupid enough to test just how hardcore the doctor is - nope.

A glance around the room and her attention lingers upon the 'guilty but don't look at me' expression on Anderson's face. Though, to be fair, she doesn't name him by face but by the injury that he's trying to pull all innocent face about. "It does make sense, but a lot of them don't. Why Milkshake?" she wonders. "Or there's one of your group called 'Crater', I believe. Of all the things, the word 'Crater' implies inappropriate contact with the surface of a planet resulting in a rather bad day for surface tension and landing struts. How is 'Crater' a good call sign?" asked as she acquires a cup of coffee. "It'd be like calling a surgeon 'Gangrene' or 'Tetanus'."

"Captain Holtz," comes the introduction, Holtz addressing Morgan and Sam. "Storm." That's his callsign. He drains the last of his tea, and then rises not long after Phin does. "Hate to bail, but I got CAP tomorrow too, bright an' early. Probably gonna grab a shower here and rack out." He sets his unbuttoned blues jacket to rights as he rises to his feet, though he pauses. "Ain't like that at all, Doc," he says to Samtara with a shake of the head. "Be damned if I can explain how, but… it just ain't, is all."

Ygraine looks over. "Milkshake, because I'm a milk maid." the woman in question grins. "Grew up on a dairy farm, y'see." Aha, the mystery revealed. She looks up at Holtz from her seat, apparently not ready to crash yet. "Later, Storm." Her brows lift faintly.

"Oh yeah. CAP's early tomorrow." Phin forgoes the coffee, and just gets another water, to go. "Rack sounds like a thing worth doing, though." He adds a parting "Later" all around. And off he goes.

"Sniper," Anderson intones since everyone seems to be giving it up. "My callsign is Sniper." He purses his lips, nodding casually to Holtz when the Captain rises. "Look forward to working for ya' Cap." He smiles towards Phin then, and chuckles, "Hey no backing out on the barhop, Dolly."

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