Summary: Shortly after the personnel marooned on Scorpia return to Kharon, Matto goes to the tool room and is joined by Komnenos, who gets a little anger off his chest.
Date: PHD082
Related Logs: Three Hour Tour logs

Matto might be encroaching a little onto the Legsykitten's turf, but the two of them are close enough that he doubts she'd mind. Having some first-hand expreience around mechanical gear, he works slowly but at least seems to have the trust of the deck crew not to Fuck It Up. He's been quiet. For a while now, but Thorn may only have noticed it since their return. They may have only been gone a short while, but Kissy's gotten at least a couple years older in the meanwhile, if not five or ten. Worn might be a good word for it. Maybe it was just the barrage of double shifts. Maybe it was having to take some semblance of command. Or maybe he just missed them.

Komnenos enters quietly, a bag hoisted over his right shoulder. His face, still heavily scarred from the events on the planet, is somber as he walks over to the Raptor tools locker; as he starts pulling out miscellaneous tools and such out of the bag, he almost misses the presence of another person in the room. "Kissy. Hey, you," Thorn calls out quietly as he begins placing his equipment back in its locker.

Matto's head rises at the sound of someone entering, his hand beginning to hover down at his side to replace the tool in the individually carved foam socket created for it in its shelf before it shoves the shelf to. He doesn't say anything, though, until greeted. "Hey, guy," he returns the call, pushing off of where he'd been leaning to lumber in a vague elliptical, "How are you… doing?" he finally settles on asking, brows lowering and knitting together with the gravity that the usually off-handed comment is lent by the fact that Komnenos is in all likelihood not great. The question is offered with a vaguely self-aware pitifulness, as if wishing for some preferable words of greeting.

"I'm alive," Thorn says simply; there's a slightly haunted look in his eye as he speaks. "That's something, at least." He's moving stiffly, mechanically, as he puts the contents of his bag back in their proper place, one by one. He's conspicuously not using his left hand for anything, letting the arm hang limply at his side. The man's face is blank as he works, and he has a look of exhaustion on his features. Not weariness, per se, but then not all exhaustion involves lack of sleep.

Matto moves closer, indicating a willingness to aid in unpacking the bag and doing so unless given signs that the aid is unwelcome. "Something good, I hope," Kissy ventures quietly, not explaining the comment further, but looking to the side of Thorn's face.

Not at all, as Thorn takes a step aside to give Matto easy access to the duffel. "It's something," he reiterates. His voice lacks its usual carry; he briefly flicks his head over at Kissy but doesn't meet the man's eyes before turning his attention back to the bag. He flushes slightly; Thorn realizes what Kissy's looking at, but says nothing to rebuke him. "The doctors expect most of them t' heal within a week or so," he says instead. "Might have a permanent souvenir or two, though." He idly taps one of them with the tip of his finger, a particularly deep looking one on his left cheek, running down from about nose level to his jawline.

Matto does his best to look Thorn in the eye while they're conversing… it was rather in an effort toward that end than for the purpose of staring that he'd been looking in that direction. But Thorn seems to shy away from the contact, and so Kissy's attention— well, that of his eyes, at least, returns to putting things away. "Wouldn't want to go all the way to Scorpia and not bring back something to remember it by, I guess," he makes a characterstic effort toward levity, but his heart's not in it, much. "I'm— really glad to have you back, anyhow. For what that's worth."

Finally, Komnenos brings his eyes up to meet Kissy's; his stormy blue-grays, at least, have lost none of their luster, in contrast to his paler-even-than-usual skin. He's silent for a second, making no reply to Kissy's attempt at humor. "Thanks," he whispers raspily, trying to dredge up a smile for the other man's benefit. It's more grimace than smile, though, but the effort is apparent.

Matto seems to sense the eyebeams on him— they bring his own eyes up to meet Thorn's again, shining faintly at the grimace as if he might be getting a little teary-eyed. "… Sorry, that was… probably not needed just now," he takes a deep breath as if in an attempt to start over. "You don't… need to be okay, for my sake, Thorn," he adds quietly. "If you ever need to… just… not be okay. That's cool, alright? Just… let me know what you need? I can be here for you, or— just— leave you alone… as much as you need."

Thorn's arm works methodically, finally placing the last of the bag's contents back in its proper place. There's another long moment of silence before Komnenos answers the other Raptor man. "I'm not a head case, y' know, and I don't need my hand held," he says softly but sharply before wincing in regret. "Sorry… I didn't mean that how it sounded. I know you're just trying t' help… it's just… I… what I need th' most right now is for everything t' go as much back t' normal as possible."

"Being sad… or scared… or angry… doesn't make you crazy. And it doesn't make you less of a man or whatnot," Kisseus points out softly. "Everyone feels those things. Letting yourself feel them is better than not, in the long run." Yes, Kissy is a man Who Talks About His Feelings. Which he then proceeds to do. "I was scared shitless when you four went down. Losing Crowbar and Dot was bad enough, but— we were down to three quarters of our squadron. The berthings were just… so empty. It felt like the beginning of the end, you know? Well, I guess the beginning of the end was the attacks on the Colonies. I'd always figured we'd get picked off into nothingness sooner or later. But that's easier to rest easy about when you're not facing a row of empty bunks. I keep picturing it like that. A quarter empty. Half empty. Three quarters empty. Like Humanity's last tank of gas, y'know? You just know that car's not starting again."

Thorn is again slow to respond, but Kissy's given him a lot to consider. "I suppose I'd not thought about what it'd've been like on the ship… Spider gone, Thea gone… what, a quarter of the squadron down there with them… It's different t' think about the end when it's a distant possibility rather than an imminent likelihood." He finally meets Kissy's gaze once again as the internal walls begin to fall. "I thought I was dead. Just about every day we were down there, I firmly believed that it would be my last. I thought I was ready t' die. It turns out I wasn't. It terrified me." At that admission, Komnenos abruptly clams up, as he begins to idly fiddle with a loose spanner sitting within his reach.

"… yeah," Kissy allows a monosyllable out with a soft sigh to fill up the quiet of Thorn clamming shut, eyes there for Thorn to make contact with when he does so, remaining there a moment after the eyes stray again, then looking to the spanner, himself, an arm rising to apply a subtle pressure with his hand to Thorn's back. "I thought I was the same way. I'd been saying it, you know, every day. This is the end. This isn't even the end, this is like the band's third encore and the audience is getting antsy to go home. We've stayed on past the curtain call. We may as well be counted among the dead, we'll be with them soon enough. I try to think of us as already gone… death has no fright for the dead, y'know? But it still hurts. It has no business hurting this bad, with everything else we've seen. But it still manages to—" he coughs as he breaks off, voice cracking faintly with emotion.

Thorn tenses slightly at the touch, but does nothing to indicate it's unwelcome. He's not Poet, after all; it just seems he's unused to being touched, rather than having a specific aversion to it. "No, it doesn't, but it does anyway." Thorn paraphrases Kissy's last sentence, finishing the thought. His brow wrinkles in anger, the first real display of emotion Thorn's had since entering. "The last wretched remnants of humanity, waiting only t' die." He suddenly whirls and throws the spanner against a crate along the opposite wall in an attack of rage. "Frakking hells take me!" he growls furiously as the spanner clangs loudly against metal. After a moment of heavy breathing, though, his ire subsides, and he shoots an apologetic look at Kissy, though not trusting himself to open his mouth again.

Matto shrinks vaguely from Thorn as the torque of rage begins to be palpable in the other man's muscles, warning him almost subconsciously about the outburst the moment before it happens. When the spell passes, though, Kissy doesn't look in the least terrorized or upset, but meets Thorn's eyes with his, supportive and warm if somewhat drained in aspect, and he steps close again, arms rising to take Thorn in a soft but tender hug, if he doesn't shy away from it.

Thorn is a bit surprised as Matto moves to hug him, but he accepts the embrace, his own arms belatedly reaching up to return it a second later. He deflates visibly as some of that pent up anger and rage drains away. His face remains flushed with a certain amount of shame, but it begins to fade back to its normal pallor when he breaks the hug a few seconds later.

Matto is a hugger and has more or less always been one. Most of the people in Black Squadron have more or less been tagged by him as fair game for passing embrace on meeting in the corridor or when coming into berthings or the mess. This embrace, of course, bieng of a rather less frivolous quality than the others. He seems content to let the hugging linger, but doesn't cling on when Thorn makes the first indications of disengagement, letting him go, instead. "If you want to go to the gym or something, later, or… sometime," he offers in a vague half-offer. It's likely Thorn has never seen Kissy inside the gym. The gym is only slightly less anathema to the asthmatic pilot than the chapel. So it's saying a lot that he would willingly accompany someone thither.

Thorn hardly even knows what the gym looks like, from what little he's been in there. He's gone to watch a fight night, and has probably been in there a few other times here and there, but he's hardly a regular visitor himself. Nevertheless, he accepts Kissy's words with a nod, probably realizing the significance of the offer. As with Kissy, the gym ranks only slightly below the chapel on Komnenos' list of least likely places to be.

Matto likely only put forth the suggestion due to some vague notion he's got into his head that a gymnasium is a place where one goes to hurl things about which are more directly purposed toward being hurled about than a spanner. Some manner of shotput or javelin. "What do you suppose would happen if we decided to live?" he wonders, backing off faintly. As opposed to having already resigned themselves to death, that is.

There's a measured look from Komnenos to Matto as the ECO considers the question. He shrugs. "I suppose we'd have t' leave the Colonies behind, find some place where the Cylons wouldn't follow us or find us," Thorn responds slowly. "As long as we're sharing space with th' frakkers, we're dead men flying." He begins to pace slowly around the tool room, putting a bit of distance between the two as he lights a cigarette. "Then either find a planet t' settle on, or live out the rest of our days on this bucket. If we make it that far, of course." He raises an eyebrow. "Is that what you were asking, anyway?"

Matto tips his head to one side, "I wasn't so much thinking of the practicalities of the thing," he admits. "I just meant. I always figured thinking this way was… realistic. Acquainting myself with the inevitible, you know? Be less upsetting when it gets there. But I wonder if Marty might not have the right of it… assuming we're going to make it, fighting tooth and nail… hating the Cylons… having some… purpose, left. Delusional, maybe, but— humanity has worked miracles on its self-delusion before."

"Sorry, I can be a bit literal at times," Thorn responds with a self-conscious grimace. "I'd thought the end was likely, but not inevitable. I always try t' allow myself room t' be surprised." He shrugs slowly. "We may as well. Keep fighting, I mean. Delusional we may be, but it beats the hells out of just rolling over and acceeding t' the inevitable, in my mind. Who knows what could happen a week from now, or a month, or a year, anyway? The worst that could happen is that we'd be dead, as we figured we'd be sooner or later."

"The worst that could happen? No, I think the worst that could happen is watching each other die," Kissy sighs softly, shifting into a lethargic motion toward the door. "In any case, if I don't end up dead sooner or later, it would be one hell of a surprise. Most people manage to get around to it at one point or another in their lives."

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