| Wounded Bird |
| Summary: | Phin speaks with Holtz on behalf of a troubled pilot. |
| Date: | 26/08/2013 |
| Related Logs: | None |
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| Ready Room |
| Capable of seating every member of the wing with space to spare in its stadium organization, the Ready Room has more than two hundred seats and is the largest room on the ship dedicated to single briefings. Sections of desks were manufactured specifically for this and wrap the width of each level of seating, rolling leather seats positioned at even points through each row. The walls have the tenant squadrons' patches painted on individual panels as well as a Kill Board up to the left side of the dais and podium, the Training Board on the other side to log progress. At the rear hatch, on a barren section of wall, is the framed and cased photo of 'Bad Dog' Ruegger. |
| AWD #232 |
Phin has gone in search of his squadron leader. First the offices, which didn't make for very fruitful searching, and now he's wandered his way to the ready room. He's in his duty blues, though he's technically on his off-time at the moment.
And now, he's struck paydirt. Holtz has clearly had CAP today, if his flight suit and tousled hair are any indication. He's standing at the front of the room, looking at the whiteboard with a marker in his hands, mumbling to himself every few seconds and occasionally making an addition or change as he goes down the line.
Once he's actually found Holtz, Phin seems reluctant to interrupt him. Especially as he observes him working the whiteboard. But, finally, after a moment's thought, he clears his throat. "Hey." He scans the board, trying to follow whatever it is Holtz is marking up there. "How's…that going?" Whatever it is.
Holtz turns slightly at the sound of Phin's voice, the marker's tip going slightly awry. Looking back at the board and the errant line, he grunts, using his finger to wipe away the mistake before turning to face Phin and straightening. "You know, I once thought there was a lot of busy work in instructing. Sometimes I wish I'd told Jameson and Sheperd where they could stick their promotions, yeah?" Holtz responds dryly. But a moment later, he shrugs. "All in all, though… could be worse. At least this time around I'm not scrubbin' off any KIAs."
Phin grimaces, when the task of editing out dead pilots is mentioned. "Need some help?" He steps down toward the whiteboard. "I was actually hoping you might have a second to talk. I mean, it's nothing major. It's not even anything personal, strictly speaking." He's kind of hedging.
"Nah, I'm almost done," Holtz replies with a quick shake of the head. "And… there." And with one final note under the last name on the list, he caps the marker and puts it down, taking a few steps over to the podium. "Done. What's on your mind?" He leans forward, resting his elbows on the wood as he lights a cigarette, a brow peaking in Phin's direction. "It's not personal, and it's not professional. Don't leave many options, does it?" Sucking in a lungful of smoke, he waves a hand, his eyes focusing hawklike on the lieutenant. Yeah, he knows the sound of a junior officer hedging when he hears it. "Well?"
"It's professional, just doesn't relate to me, strictly speaking," Phin says. He backs against a chair, just leaning on the arm rather than relaxing into it. "I mean, only as much as it's about the squadron. I was wondering if you'd talked to Blackbird at all. Since she got sprung from the brig."
"Blackbird?" Holtz seems a little surprised to hear mention of Tasha. There's a long pause, his eyes going distant for a moment as he shakes his head. "No," he admits tersely. "She was supposed to have an evaluation with the DCAG after they let her out, I think, but as far as I know that hasn't happened yet." He shrugs, then focuses on the lieutenant. "Why are you askin' me about Blackbird, anyway?"
"I ran into her at Charlie's last night. She seemed like she was…having a rough time of things." Phin shrugs. "We got to talking and she was on about how none of us'd want to fly with her after what happened. Told her I'd fly with any qualified pilot who could help us scrag toasters but she didn't seem to believe it. And…I don't know. Just thought maybe you could talk to her."
Another period of silence ensues as Holtz sighs and just stares into the air above Phin's head for a few seconds, still hunched over the podium as the cigarette dangles in between his lips. "Look, as far as I'm concerned, what happened happened. I'm not gonna forget about it, but I'm not gonne dwell on it either, yeah?" Straightening, he begins to pace slowly in front of the podium. "But if she's not gonna even make the effort…"
Phin watches Holtz pace. For his part, he just keeps leaning, posture a little slouched. Another shrug. "No. I mean. I get that. It's not like you can just undo something once you've frakked it up. I just wanted to say…I don't know. I think everybody deserves a second chance. What they do with it's up to them but…just wanted to see if I could help her get it, I guess." More shrugging. "I figured if you let her know there was still a place for her flying with us, might do her good."
"Sure. Of course there's a place. But if she wants it, she's going to have to reach out an' take it." Holtz replies sternly, a wooden glance in Phin's direction. "Look, I'm all for second chances. I've had a few of them m'self over the course of my career, yeah? But she tried to hose out her brainpan in front of the tac officer, Dolly. I ain't gonna bend over backwards for a pilot with a death wish." He sighs. "It's like teachin' nuggets. You can only help the ones who wanna be helped, who know they need help."
Smoke shoots from Holtz's nostrils as he snorts. "You wanna help her? Tell her to stop duckin' Major Franklin and go in for a godsdamn eval." He waves a hand around the ready room. "Everyone who sits in those seats every day wants to be here, and I ain't gonna lift a finger for anyone who don't feel the same way. I don't want anyone here who's a potential risk to themselves or the people they're flyin' with."
<OOC> Holtz ughs, erases one of those yeahs.
"Yeah, I figured you'd have needed a second chance or two," Phin says. "I mean, so have I. It's the kind of thing some people get and some don't, and there's no real reason to it from what I can see so…I don't know." Another shrug. "OK. I get it. You're not wrong. Just thought I'd ask is all. I figured with the invasion of Picon coming up, it'd be good to have every qualified jock in the Fleet behind a stick. And…look, I'm not defending what she did, but Lieutenant Colonel Sheperd wasn't exactly creating a great morale situation when that whole thing went down. Not that he's responsible for what she did but…I don't know."
Holtz's lips twitch at that. "Shepard was a shitty CO, yeah." So much for not speaking ill of the dead. Or the presumed dead, at least. "But I didn't see you, or me, or anyone else put a gun to our heads when he was in command." Another drag from the dwindling cigarette in his hand. "You're right. It would. And as soon as she does what she's gotta do, I'll welcome her back with open arms and deal with anyone who says boo." From the way he says it, it doesn't seem like being 'dealt with' would be a pleasant experience for the person on the other end.
Phin speaks no more of AWOL CAGs, and just nods short. "Copy that." He spends a second seemingly dredging for something more to say, but not particularly finding it. "Anyway. We'll see how she does. That'll all there is for it, I guess. Thanks for listening. I know it's not exactly something you can fix, but with all the stuff this squad's been through, I've always felt like you had my back. I'm sure it's kept me from doing anything too stupid."
"Like I said, I'll help her if I can, but she's got to help herself a little first." Holtz shrugs. "Hey, man, it ain't a thing. We got history, I'd be disappointed if you felt like you couldn't bring shit like this to me by now, yeah?" He disposes of his cigarette and smirks at his last. "Since day one, Dolly-man, and don't you forget it." A throaty chuckle follows his words.
Phin chuckles as well, grinning slight. "Won't anytime soon, man. Anyway, I'll get out of your hair. Don't let that whiteboard crush you, all right?" He eases off of his leaning position on the chair arm, stretching once he's in a straight standing position.
Holtz snorts, chucking his chin back in the direction of said whiteboard. "Heh. It's gonna have to try a lot harder, then." He nods in the lieutenant's direction. "All right. Take it easy." He touches his brow in a lazy, two-fingered salute.