Advice Column
Advice Column
Summary: Willem awkwardly drops some bad juju on Samantha, offers dodgy advice, and asks her and Fenris for some personal advice of his own. Somehow this evolves into Wil and Fen having a heart-to-heart.
Date: PHD 129 (08/26/2009)
Related Logs: Related Logs (The forthcoming "Men@Work," "Explosion," "Implosion," "Animal House")

[ Red Squadron Berthings - Deck 1 ]-----[ CEC Kharon ]
IC Time: Post Holocaust Day #129 OOC Time: Wed Aug 26 01:35:19 2009

The hatchway to this room has a top-down stencil of a Viper Mark Two painted across the entire expanse, the rear end of the Viper at the bottom of the hatch. Once inside, the berthings are typical of Viper squadrons throughout the fleet: Two lines of bunks are mounted against each wall with another one built into the wall at the other end. The room's gray walls and the empty space surrounding the bunks hold framed pictures of Vipers in action and depictions of the Cylon War of forty years prior. There is also a hatch in the back the leads to a private Head for these officers. Even here, the dark blue curtains hide away each individual bunk from the goings-on within the common area which is centered on a large oak table, though the surrounding chairs are standard navy.

Some time into the evening, the figure of Wil, or rather, what looks like Wil, sans head, can be seen rustling inside what is very obviously Wil's locker. Clad in his offduties, there's a bit of amorphous humming going on in its confines. His foot taps ever so often.

Samantha steps into the room, still in her flight suit, fresh from CAP, her blonde hair slightly plastered to her forehead with sweat and her eyes looking for a cigarette. Completely oblivious to anything that has or hasn't happened in her name tonight, but looking exhausted never the less. She didn't get much sleep the evening before. She heads straight for her bunk, quiet…

Fenris enters the berth after Sam, apparantly finished throwing a few people through the wringer between CAPs as per usual. She doesn't look happy, as she never really has, and offers a simply, "Evening." to the room as she steps toward her rack to change.

"Hmmm hmmm. THERE you are." Wil finally spouts off, excitedly, as he draws back from the locker clutching a folded up paper bag. He looks almost like he was about to say 'his precious' but that would make no sense. Would it? In any case, Rebound clears his throat as his gaze flickers towards the two entering women. "Oh. Hey." He says, with a sort of loaded awkwardness. Very much so.
NOTE — The paper bag looks too small to be holding a bottle of booze. Don't get the wrong idea, girls.

Samantha blinks a moment at Wil…"Pookie dearest give you a present?" Sam jokes off gently in his direction, voice defintiely sounding half tired, but maybe it means she'll just sleep well tonight. She heads for her locker, tugging it open and now beginning to unbuckle and unzip her flight suit.

Samantha says, "Oh… and hey there, Mud…good ta see ya."

Fenris gives a nod to, "Case. How was your flight?" in reply, whatever emotive undertones were plaguing the LT gone back to sleep for the present. A glance is afforded the bag, and it's keeper, but doesn't remark on it.

"Nooo. In fact." Wil snaps off, maybe a shaky moment after Sam speaks, clearing his throat. "Maybe it's the other way around. I need some advice. Already got Rabbit's but I kind of think I should ask a woman, or two, just to keep myself honest." His lips twitch to one side in a belated pantomime of a smile. "Not that I don't trust Rabbit. But, you know." Pausing a bit, he amends, "Good to see you, Mud." His voice is a bit more relaxed in addressing her. -Hmm-. Back to Sam. "Uh. I don't know if I should ask you beforehand or not."

Samantha tilts her head slightly, beginning to peel out of her suit. "Beforehand of what? Ask away. We've always been buddies, you know you can lay it on the line here, Will. Sure as hell hope you ain't turning chickenshit with me now." Sam flashes him a half smile, her words earnest, as gruffly reassuring as the backwater Gemenese girl can get. She then goes back to stripping out of her flight suit, down to her shorts and tanks…"And Mud here's got a damn good head on her shoulders. I'm sure she'll give ya a good thought on the matter, whatever it is. You gonna pop the questionn to your lady love?"

"Ask." Fenris replies steadily, turning to her locker to starts changing. There's, granted, been some tension in the past, but… that's all cleared now, right?

Completely. Wil looks towards Fenris with a casual, sidelong glance and seems completely at ease. He's been pretty much good as his word since their little 'talk' recently. He shrugs a little bit as he pads on back towards his bunk and leans against the ladder after a quick check to see if Ferris is about. Y'know, before he completely ruins the Ensign's sleep. Courtesy FTW. Back towards Samantha again. "Eh. It's not so much -that-." Wil inquires. "I mean, I suppose it's related. Damn if she didn't suggest it, though. She — I don't know. She got spooked after Merlin ate it and I think she remembered that it could happen to me at any given time. We also realized something else but that's a lengthy digression that doesn't have much to do with this other than to provide a funny story. If you want, I'll tell it later." He clears his throat and fumbles in the bag. Yeah, 'pop the question,' Case. It's one of those typical jewelry cases. He flips it open. It's a ring, allright. Not terribly ostentatious but not cheap-looking either. Diamond/sapphire combination. Tasteful, at least. "See, I didn't buy it for -her-." He clicks is tongue. "Would 'regifting' be tasteless?"

Samantha blinks as she's… Right. Frak. It almost makes the fight between her and Martin even worse, a knife twisting deeper in a wound she's been doing her damn best to ignore. She turns around slowly, flight suit hanging around her hips, as she considers that open case…"….Frak…" She breathes out quietly, definitely shocked. Trying to be happy for him. She is happy for her friend. she breathes slowly…"I…I think she's a damn lucky woman and would be a fool to say anything but yes."

The serene one turns her attention to the tiny creak of the jewelry box as things come to the show and tell portion of the question. her eyes study it for a moment, then his face, then, "The ring is a sign of commitment, honor and union between bearer and recipient. The symbol of your devotion to her, whoever -she- happens to be." The locker is given breathing room and Mud steps half clad toward the inquiring mind. Somewhere around arm's reach, she stops and considers him once more.

"Mud? Did I ever tell you how much I value your clarity of vision?" Wil inquires in a slightly teasing tone. He sounds serious enough, though, just glancing back at Fenris, curiously. "It's the interchangeability of people that this implies; that bothers me." He half-smiles, but it disappears into a pensive pursing of his lips after a moment.

Rebound then turns to address Sam. "Believe me, I couldn't afford this. In a strange twist of fate, the filthy loan sharks I leveraged to get it probably went up with all the rest. Thanks for the compliment, though, Case. That means something. Uh, trust me when I say there were reasons this never got delivered. -Before- the end of the world, even. I couldn't ever bring myself to hock it, y'know?" There's a brief, but rueful smile as he declares, "Just. I don't know. I had real problems with figuring out how appropriate this was. But more on all this later. Sorry to ambush you with this before I told ya. Um," he clears his throat. Now the awkward comes out. "Case? Can I give you some unsolicited advice? You need to kind of figure things out. I'm telling you this as a friend but I just watched Thorn and Dash go at it and try to beat the ever-loving shit out of each other in the lounge while you were out on CAP."

Willem slaps the case shut after a moment's hesitation, frowning as it gets returned to the bag. It's unclear what he's decided.

Samantha wants to say something more about the ring but then the news about Dash and Thorn just makes her blink. She stares… perplexed, not really quite believing it… except for the fact that there is probably no reason for Willem to know about anything awkward along those lines unless it was -true-. She looks back to Fenris for any sort of confirmation, most of the colour drained from her face, before giving a nervous little laugh. "This….this is another… joke, right? Revenge for the underwear? Can we call a truce now, really?"

Fenris nods at Wil's initial appraisals, reaching a hand out for his shoulder, though, as he blurts out the rest toward Sam the limb freezes in space. With nary a beat, she intones, "The game room." as a ventured guess in her damnably lifeless tone, before all the madness. She looks Case's way and, "It's probably best to let things lie for the moment." After all, once someone calls for the Marines, it usually means someone's spending the night in the can.

Willem suddenly looks abashed. Not at Fen, really. Not even at Samantha, but rather, the fact that it came out pretty much the way it did. He frowns. "Well, that side of the lounge." He continues spilling it. "I'm — not joking, Sam. There are limits as to how far I'll go and I wouldn't bullshit you about this." He waves a hand dismissively but still, well, damage done, and he shuffles his feet as he leans back against the ladder. "I'm sorry. Nobody's really hurt but the CAG threw Martin in the Brig for the night and it looked like Cat was going to rip Thorn a new one when she walked him off. But." he winces a little. "I'm not saying it's anyone's fault. It looked like it got defused. I'm just noting that someone has to work on repairing this. I shouldn't have said it the way I did. I'm sorry." He looks between the two Lieutenants, as if, in a way, the apology was to both of them.

Samantha shakes her head quietly, definitely in shock. She then goes back to removing her flight suit, hanging it up carefully in her locker for use tomorrow, dead quiet. She's definitely in shock over this matte. Thanks for… telling me. No clue…what the hell to do about it… but thanks." She finally whispers, looking back to both of them as she slams her locker shut, just a bit too hard. "Congratulations, Will… you… deserve all the best. Don't start poppin' out kids too fast…I don't knit that quick." She half jokes, giving him her best smile for the moment but right now she just wants to hide in the dark somewhere. "…always good seein' ya Fen. I…think I'm gonna curl up and frak the world for about 8 hours…" She murmurs as she ducks down into her bunk, no shower, no teeth brushing…she'll worry about it in the morning.

Fenris turns her attention back to Wil at the final words from Sam and her hands extend to either side of his face as she takes a final step. She offers a soft, "Congratulations, Willem." and tiptoes up to kiss his forehead to lessen the chances of a misunderstanding. Assuming that goes without incident, the contact lasts but a moment before she draws back to turn on her heel.

"Kids? /Kids?/ Half the reason I'm not waiting a year or two is I don't think I have a life expectancy in this bloody job past five months. I just want a little something before I go." Wil blurts out, sort of out of the blue, with a bit of a reddish tinge to his ears and neck. "In 'old' life this would be something I'd consider reckless, even dangerous. Just. Well. It's not anymore." He waves a hand in a rapid swipe, dismissing the issue. "And kids? That's. This isn't a life in which I would even /consider/ frakking doing that." Suddenly, SOCIALFAIL mounts and it just dawns on him that he ranted. "Sorry. I need to stop doing that. It's not the time anyway. But I'm sure you'll figure it out. And, well, you gave me advice. It works both ways. I'm here if you need me."

Fen's gesture just makes him turn a bit red, but he half-smiles, at least. "Thank you. Uh. Thank you." Even after all this time, he's still has moments where he can be a stumbling dork reacting to personal issues in public. The thanks are clearly genuine, though.

Samantha nods quietly to both of them. She'd like to say more… but it's just not there right now. "…See you both in the morning." With that, Sam pulls the curtain of her bunk, alone, very much alone… and certainly needing to be that way. She sighs, settling in for a long night of thinking, no doubt.

Fenris draws up as Sam shuts herself off from the world. Her foot, half peeled from the deck with her final step, merely flattens itself against the bulkhead again. She looks back toward the man and she nods, "You're welcome."

Wil opens the bag again as he smiles a tight, brief smile. This done, he meanders towards the open locker and proceeds to stow it in the same spot he retrieved it from with a glance towards the retiring Sam's bunk, and then up at the retiring Fenris. "Sleep well, Mud. You too, Case." He says distantly as he reaches for his gym bag, before gingerly pushing the door shut and heading towards the hatch.

Her comrade gets a couple of paces before Mud muses his way, "You'll make a good husband, Willem, and if time allows, a father as well." The touching sentiment mired somewhat, perhaps, by the deathly evenness of her tone and cast of her face, "Don't hurt yourself, and good night." her final words spoken, she returns to taking care of that getting changed for bed thing, leaving him to his peace.

"Please." Wil glances back, snickering through his nose. "I don't think those are easy things to live up to." Suddenly stopping, he wheels back around and proceeds over towards his locker as he fumbles with the combination again. It seems like he forgot something. "I'll be happy to be a decent human being, which is difficult enough. It's more difficult than flying, I think. Eh. Listen to me bullshit on." He starts rummaging once more, in relative silence.

"Being a good man tends to lead to the rest taking care of itself. Pasideis, verse three." the repeat zombie and part time philosopher shoots back his way, "If I didn't believe it, I wouldn't have said it. It's hard to be good, but you have what it takes, I believe."

"Heh. That takes me back." Another rumble of Wil's voice from his locker as he seems clearly intent on rummaging for -something-. "It's sometimes the very concept that baffles me. Action vs. intent." He notes in a slightly off, distant tone. "I spend way too much time trying to tune one to the other. I used to think the latter trumped the former, but, well, we learn. Half the time I still feel like I'm tripping over reconciling the two." He confesses, as he adds, slightly changing the subject. "So yeah. I watched Merlin go down. Never -seen- a pilot go before with my own eyes. Not a friendly, anyway. I mean, well, there was Scorpia but we got everyone back."

"Charon isn't cruel, Willem." Fenris says softly, "He saw to Merlin with care as was his due." She resumes her clothe's changing, and goes on, "He was a good man, a good pilot." There is a beat or two where she simply continues fussing with her clothes, then, "Remember what happened, but don't spend the rest of your life in that moment, Willem. Staring into death is a good way to get an invitation, just like forgetting it's out there." Her gaze swivels his way and she goes on, "Finding a way to reconcile the scales is part of being human."

"That's just it, Fen. I've been thinking. It's been coming up a lot recently." Wil says, as he finally disengages from the locker clutching — something. Looks like a library book, maybe. "Cruel or no, I don't think anyone deserves to die. Maybe it's necessary sometimes. It always happens. But life, life is the one expression of anything sacred in this universe that we can touch, that is tangible. For it to end early like that is wrong." His lips purse as he looks back up at the woman. "I'd even make that arguement for the guy on Scorpia the Marines picked up." His throat clears as he sums it all up. "I don't think I'm good with those scales. Never have been but until I joined the service I didn't think I really had to frakking deal with it much."

"Deserves has nothing to do with it, Willem." Fen says softly, "It's every bit a part of how the universe works, there are no absolutes without counters. Every measure has a foil. Where something can be, it can not be as well. We don't want our loved ones, our friends to leave, but they will, as we, ourselves, will. That is the way it works." She rises, then and steps toward him, "I believe this because of what I've seen, what I've felt. Perhaps even what's changed in me." As she draws near, her voice becomes as close to gentle as it's been as she says, "We live no more or less than we were meant to. But while we're alive, we're meant to -live-."

(OOC NOTE from log editor - Fenris TOTALLY sounded like Clint Eastwood when she said that)

Leaning back against the locker door, arms crossing with that book firmly tucked underneath his arm, Wil considers his fellow pilot's words with a tilt of his head. Not unkindly, either. His eyes narrow and blink a little bit. Still, rather than agreeing or countering her statement, he just chews on it inside his head for little bits of time. "What's changed in you, Mud? I mean. If you don't mind me asking. Just curious." Smirking a tad, he amends, "I'll share if you will." It may be her slightly(for her) warming demeanor or just the fact that he's gotten used to her distant quality by now but he's apparently at ease with discussing these sorts of matters candidly.

<FS3> <FS3> Castor rolls Social: Failure.

Mud considers the proposal for a moment, then gives a small nod. "I've told you about what happened when I was young, where I'd crossed over?" comes her opening inquiry. Maybe with the rampant chaos, even Mud's memory isn't a hundred percent.

"I was here for it. I caught. Some of it. It was kind of tumultuous in here though." Wil admits, his eyes flickering with some kind of recognition, although his voice indicates a certain spottiness in the recollection.

"I don't often talk about this, given how religion tends to rile people after the attack." Fenris confesses, "A precaution." She gestures to her bunk before she steps back to settle on the edge, in all likelihood either a long story, or an effort to defer to the comfort of her company, "When I was fifteen, I was caught in a shooting. The burst was meant for my boyfriend, though I caught them as well. I was dead for a time before the medics were able to bring me back."

"I — I am in a rather weird place right now. I'm not about to get in someone's face unless I receive that trite 'The Gods know best and the death of everything was in some grand master plan and everything will work out' litany. Either that or 'We deserved it.' I don't peg you as the type who would say either, so feel free." Wil says all this rather haltingly, but it seems to come from somewhere within him. He's also a markedly poor bullshitter, both by reputation and general observation. "Right." He finally adds, digesting Fen's story as he meanders over towards the indicated bunk, eyeing her with a slight turn of his head.
"I was here for it. I caught. Some of it. It was kind of tumultuous in here though." Wil admits, his eyes flickering with some kind of recognition, although his voice indicates a certain spottiness in the recollection.

"I don't often talk about this, given how religion tends to rile people after the attack." Fenris confesses, "A precaution." She gestures to her bunk before she steps back to settle on the edge, in all likelihood either a long story, or an effort to defer to the comfort of her company, "When I was fifteen, I was caught in a shooting. The burst was meant for my boyfriend, though I caught them as well. I was dead for a time before the medics were able to bring me back."

Fenris nods toward the bed with a minimum of lost eye contact, and she goes on, "I don't clearly remember what happened, then. When I recovered, I turned my life around." The considers something for a time, perhaps her phrasing, then continues, "Two years later, my mother and I were in an accident." a little shake of her head and, "I never saw the car that hit us. This time I was gone for a lot longer, and I do remember."

Finally, Wil goes ahead and does just that, ambling aboard the bunk and just settling upon its edge. At first he seems hesitant to cut in. "Repeated patterns are the first thing that tend to make one think. But more on that later." He waves a hand dismissively. "Sorry. I -am- listening." He beckons for her to continue with a slight pursing of his lips and a nod.

Fenris she watches him settle into a spot and nods in turn, "This time, I remember seeing the river. I could smell it, hear the waves at the shore." There is something there in her tone, "I looked into Charon's face, and I was afraid…. I knew him at once, I remembered. I can still feel his hand on my hair, telling me that it would be alright. That it wasn't time, yet, and that I should sleep."

At this, Willem leans forward a bit and his forehead wrinkles. No discernable reaction except a blink of grey eyes and he finally nods his head with a slow cadence. "Not the typical portrayal of the Ferryman. Not one that I'd ever heard, at least. You make him sound strangely — gentle." His shoulders shrug somewhat. Not in dismissal, more in a pondering manner.

Fen nods some and concedes with that, "No, and I can't speak for what others remember, or spoke of. It is… true for me. I believe it is true for everyone." Her shoulders shrug in a gesture that could be called infrequent at best, then, "But afterward, when I woke from the coma, weeks later, I realized that I couldn't feel things anymore. Not the ways I could before. I couldn't…." Her wrist rolls languidly as she decides whether the next words will suffice before, "connect to them."

Something about this involves a bit of a wince on Wil's part. It's slight. So slight she might even miss it. Eyes norrow and his jaw tightens, relaxing just a few moments later. "That old story about touching the Styx, huh?" For such a confirmed agnostic, he seems to have the basic knowledge down. "I'm. Do you regret that?" This next question comes almost afterwards. It may seem like a dumb one, but it's Willem. With him, curiousity and tact don't always go hand-in-hand. "I used to be a worshipper of Hermes, I think. As much as I worshipped anything. I think I have the opposite problem." He pauses slightly as he finishes. "Something about what you just said, though. It puzzles me. You seem compassionate enough. At least in an intellectual sense?"

"No." Fenris answers softly, "I accept what I am." She seems to consider her next words very carefully and she nods, "In an intellectual sense, I am concerned for the wellbeing of all of you." She takes a breath, then, "There are also, occaisionally, people who I can… feel. Danika…. the Major… was the last. That… she could have been… in danger is… why I was so irrational with you that night." lingering uncertainty and a subtle sense of loss threads into what would otherwise be her typical tone, but it doesn't last long. "This was something that deeply disturbed Typhoon. I've wondered if it wasn't part of why he started to act the way he did, which is part of why I don't go into details about this very often."

"Huh. Well, that explains something. I'm not sure I 'get' it but I understand it logically. Which is enough." Wil's not quite dismissing the idea out of hand despite his outward, well, not skepticism. Disconnect with the idea, that's a better way of wording it. He just shrugs, faintly enough. "Typhoon had a number of things driving him, I think. I'd — probably not helpful to bring him up, one way or another." While polite, his tone isn't as warm as it could be when he discusses the man. "I don't think you really could have factored into that. "But Torch. Eh. I didn't really know her. She was sort of removed from my everyday existence. I'm more puzzled by why Leodus snapped, but, I suppose when one snaps, they snap." It -sounds- matter-of-fact but his expression betrays some vague horror.
"As I said, I have the opposite condition. Sometimes I think I identify with a lot of people more than I should. Empathy's always been a gift. Too bad I get the phrasing wrong a lot when I try to communicate it."
There's a bit of a dry snicker here and he just leaves it. "I see some repeated patterns in my own life. They're subtle, and I think I may be imagining them most of the time. -Most- of the time." Wil observes, in addition, after a bit of hesitation. Since they're being confessional.

Fenris nods and lifts a hand to briefly set on his shoulder, "That's a gift, and a burden, all it's own, Willem." She sets the hand back in her on lap and continues, "But being able to feel someone, doesn't always mean being able to understand. Maybe we have a similar problem." Her head cants a smidge as she muses, "Empathy could be like how we use light. We're in the same boat with too much as we'd be with not enough." About the rest, Fenris can only shrug again, "I don't have the slightest what happened with him… what finaly drove him over. I don't… feel kindly toward the man."

"Maybe not. I'm not making a defense or wondering about forgiveness. That's not what it's about." Wil clarifies, shrugging a little as he perches in the bunk, peering back at Fenris with unfettered curiousity bordering on nosiness. "Not of that man. Just — wondering why. What possibly puts someone in a state like that. I can't imagine what it would be like." He sounds faintly horrified, faintly disgusted, but keeps it mostly in check. "I can understand what you are saying here though. About empathy. Lack of connection. Two different sides of one problematic coin." His lips purse a little. "I think with me, it's been made worse by this continuing trend I've seen throughout half my life. People stumble as I get ahead. And not because I'm as competitive as some — but because I'm bloody frakking -lucky-."

"There's nothing wrong with being lucky in itself." Fenris replies, perhaps trying to set him at ease, "If you aren't deliberately sabotaging them, then their failures aren't your doing, if that's what you're thinking." she considers him, perhaps trying, with difficulty, to read him. It's entirely likely she's way off the mark.

"Most of them, no. Most of them." Wil considers aloud. "It's the little things. In the Asteroid engagement where we lost Merlin, my plane didn't take a -scratch-. Or on Scorpia. I can tick off others, but I'm starting to think that may be partially because I know how to fly. Perish the frakking thought." He bursts into a snicker-snort sound.
"I crashed my plane that one time as an Ensign but, aside from some burn scars and Python, my old sec-lead getting license to give me a hard time for weeks on end afterwards, I was fine. And then there's the fact that I've had to quite literally kill to get where I am." His mouth snaps shut as this just rolls out, looking a bit surprised that he even said it, given the slight widening of his eyes. "People. Not Cylons. That's why I can keep going out there in this war - I can kill Cylons as much as I want and not bat an eyelash." Well, except when they stop letting him kill them, of course.

There is a momentary silence from Fenris, contemplation, perhaps, as no shock registers on her features, "I'd be remiss if I jumped to coclusions about this. What happened if… you're comfortable going into detail."

Wil has that look that he had earlier. That his his brain was running hard-wired to his mouth without that much of a filter. "It was in the line of duty. Smugglers. We were based out of Tauron during all that drama with their people, after all." Now -he- sounds distant, as he gives a very, very brief summary of what went down. "In any case, after that engagement I got recommended for promotion. Then got sent here." While his eyes flicker off towards his open locker door for a moment, they eventually return to focus on her. "One of those things. Had I not pulled that assignment I'd probably a pile of ash down there right now."

"Or you'd have been assigned to another star. Or sent to train with the Major in my stead. Came here with her instead of me." Fenris counters evenly, not gentle, nor harsh, just… Fen. "Everything could have been. I could have taken to thinking I was immortal and gone on a rampage. I could have cowered in a corner, unable to bear all the colors of the world. 'What if' can be the most terrible words in any language, Willem…. the trick is denying them that power." There comes another gently clasp to his shoulder and a tiny shake of her head, "You did your duty. Despite the burdens of what you were asked to do, you followed through and were recognized as a valuable and reliable officer. You were a soldier given a difficult duty, not a monster."

Wil's mouth flickers to one side but he simply neglects to comment on the latter beyond one simple fact. "No. Not a 'monster.' Monsters are easy because I think they're rare. There are far more well-meaning and selectively well-meaning people. Or were. And they can cause as much damage as the out-and-out monsters. But that's really," He draws in a breath, very much perturbed by this whole topic for some reason even though he's not really assigning massive amounts of blame to himself. "That was — let's just say that's all over now." His shoulders shrug languidly. "Always wanted to hit a Battlestar. I pulled this instead. Heh. The reviews were good enough." At Fenris' shouldertap, there's a brief smile but he just moves past this topic as fast as possible. "Still. 'What if' eats me alive." He just trails off again, seeming to have nothing to say.

Fenris considers him for a while as he speaks, not interupting. As he finishes, she nods, returning the hand, again, to her own person, "It will. Whether 'what if' trumps 'here, now' is, ultimately another scale to balance, though that is ultimately your task and no one else's. For what it's worth, I believe in you."

For some reason, Willem snickers. It's a surprisingly good-natured one, all things considered. He shifts his mouth to one side and states, "And so, Lieutenant Valasche counsels the Libran on unbalanced scales. There's something to be laughed at there. Somehow." Yep. Indeed good-natured. "I think this is just what happens to my mind when I don't keep busy." He stretches out a bit and seems to stifle a yawn. "Speaking of busy. I think all this did the trick. Can probably sleep."

Fenris actually looks a bit confused at the laughter, but she doesn't seem to let it erode into discomfort or embarassment, "Somewhere, I suspect." She leans forward a little bit as he stretches and she looks into his face, "While helping was my intention… I hope I haven't hurt the situation, at least."

"Nah. It was good. Sometimes it's good to have a reminder of steady people in the squadron." Wil nudges her shoulder with the knuckles of his closed hand and ambles on towards the floor. "This means you, Mud."

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