Coffee With Cream
Coffee With Cream
Summary: Salazar interviews Vicks over coffee.
Date: PH213 (18 November 2009)
Related Logs: Looks Clear.
Players:
Salazar..Vicks..

CEC Kharon, Deck 2, Security Hub
IC Time: Post Holocaust Day #213
OOC Time: Wed Nov 18 00:46:18 2009


A pair of staggered desks flank the entrance, one occupied during most hours by a desk sergeant, and the other rotates between other personnel. In the back is a bank of monitors on the port wall in a 180 degree view. The arc of stacked flatscreens is under the watchful eye of an MP or three during most hours of the day, and recorded for review otherwise. These monitors are visible from the S2's desk (directly across on the starboard wall) and the station set just in front of them. One of the feeds always on display is a feed of the Brig. Other secure areas have been wired in since warday. A Colonial Marine Corps flag hangs proudly in the corner, accompanied by pictures of Marines in action and paintings depicting famous battles of the Cylon War and other actions. An armored door at the far end of the room displays in bright white lettering 'Primary Small Arms,' and holds the main locker for storing the rifles and explosives aboard. A hatch midway through the room leads into the Small Arms Range.


The S2 sits at her desk with a steaming mug of coffee. The chair across from hers, in front of the desk, has been set up close enough to keep the conversation fairly private. It does, at least, give the illusion of that. She sips her coffee, and quietly flips through a file.

Brought in from the Brig, but limping. After all they only had to get him well enough to shuffle, and well enough to eat-before bossing him out right? Either way Someone is being led in, all nice and cuffed up- and back into the dirty ass reds he had been taken from when in medical. Unkempt black hair and big brown eyes. A roll of shoulders before he moves to the indicated seat. A glance over to the MP guard who is still there, before he's looking back to the S2

"Do I need to salute you first?" Judah's first question. "Or can I sit an have a cup of coffee?" and there- a right knife edged smirk.

Salazar glances over with a little smirk. "You don't have to salute me until I own you." The implication is she doesn't own him yet, but may some day very soon. The dark eyes of the Sec Officer fix on Vicks. "Dover, get the man a coffee. If he twitches, I'll shoot him myself." That's said casually in a way that suggests she's either joking, or doesn't even consider it a possibility. "Are you feeling better?"

"Careful. Ain't had all my shots yet- and I bite like hell." comes the gravelled response before he's looking to sit down with a slight wince. Vicks, turns his head back towards Dover "Cream, please. I like cream in my coffee." Of course- spit might work too if Dover's feeling pleasant. And with that he's looking back to Salazar, smirking again.

"Good, maybe you'll hit me in the face this time, instead of my leg." And with that he settles. A look to his leg and he shrugs. "I've had worse-Or close to it. I can eat solids now without throwing up or my body killing me-so yeah. I feel feel better." A look over to the woman's arm. "You?"

Salazar brushes her fingers through her hair, then tips back to enjoy her coffee, while she watches Vicks over the cup. "I'm always good. By the way, I wasn't the one who shot you. Had I been the one who shot you, we wouldn't be having this conversation." She smiles slightly and says, "You do look like a biter." She flips a page in the folder, and picks up a pen. "Tell me what brought you to Ragnar Anchorage."

Vicks chuckles as he leans back into his chair. "Ah, I do know that- after all I was going for your piece. Then it would have been lights out." Meaning he would have shot, himself. So who knows how this new kettle of fish would be handled. Probably with both dead, or one of em at least mostly dead. A grin to the other remark as hands come up-sensing the nearing MP. "I keep my teeth nice an clean-for such occasions." And with that he gets coffee, sans Cream. However, the PO is undaunted and drinks all the same.

"A transport ship." There's a beat, as he takes another sip of coffee-perhaps in order to make it seem as if that is all he is willing to tell. But, then he's answering again. "General Order 9013. Or some bullshit thing, that Warden-Err Commander Mira Chavez came up with. About two fifty of us were selected-the rest left to die. Took a ship to Idis, from there I got transferred to the Saratoga- and went to get arms. I was part of the five man entry team whose job it was, to open doors and make sure we had enough shit-cause I am a welder by trade.."

After Dover finally thunks the mug down for Vicks, and then turns to make his way over closer to the hatch.

"I think you skipped a few steps. Selected from where? Others were left to die where?" She sips her coffee, and scribbles something on the paper in her lap. Her legs are crossed, and the paper's just tipped enough to keep Vicks from being able to see what she's writing.

"Huh?" best response yet, and there's a look back to Salazar. "Oh, I am sorry- I didn't know there was a process." Sarcasm just is rich tonight. A sip of his Coffee, once he's re taken it from the MP who thunked it right on the desk. Right. A cough. "Fort Flagg. You know where that is?" Brow up and brow down. Yeah Vicks is being a pain. But, luckily only a small pain.

"It's called logical progression of steps. Try to keep up. It'll help you live longer." Longer, not just live. The S2 responds to the sarcasm with simple matter-of-fact statements that subtly reiterate the power balance. She's an asshole that way. "Fort Flagg. Cute name. Why don't you give me your version." She barely glances up. "Be specific."

"I don't know who it is named after. They could have called it Fort Shithole for all I care." Vicks offers over the rim of his mug. Despite the reiteration of power- it Seems Vicks will most likely buck, a little. But, it is no wrench to the arm. "My version. From where?" a shake of his head and he's setting the mug carefully down on her desk. "I got chose, because the only people I killed were in self defense. My trials proved that." Oh joy at what you're dealing with Nikos. "Never shanked or raped anyone in the showers or messhall. So I am picked with two fifty others, to be spread as labor amongst the Fleet. I get saddled on the Saratoga- cause she was needing to rearm and they needed people who could repair. I got put with her engineering crew- and sent along my merry. We hit the Anchorage- and Me, an the five others are let out first incase there are centurions- so they don't lose any valuable crew." A laugh there. "However its hard to dock that fat ass boat. Hell I had to fix the seal twice before it was proper enough to send a team out. Anyway- we get in an over, and to our surpise the place is frakkin empty. We hit the wirelo- an call back that there's nothin' Save message can't get all the way through. Instead we hear the hatches closing behind us.. Seal broke." a pause "Got them on the Wirelo- and they said they were bugging out for another pass- see if they can get a harder seal from another entrance-cause of the atmosphere…Save we knew they weren't coming back. They knew nothing was there, and instead of waiting to get our asses back on they tucked it and left. Frakking Navy queers."

"Wow." Salazar takes in the list of skills and winning points that Vicks provides. "Didn't rape anyone in the showers. You should think about putting that on your CV." The tone is dry. She's probably been taking lessons from other officers. Or maybe Nikos' are porn pricks. "The commander of your vessel picked over a prison in order to find cheap, expendable labor? That's just the stuff of tourist brochures. Gemenon, now with 50 percent less standards. I bet that reminds you of a lot of the women you've dated." She makes another note in the file. "You're a convicted murderer and a trained mechanic." She shakes her head slightly. She attracts those convicted murderers. "So the question becomes, PO Vicks. What the frak do we do with you?"

"Hey." and there's a twitch as he's leaning in on the desk. "I got morals- Rape ain't ever on the menu. But I got no qualms with killin someone." said plainly, before he's leaning back into his chair. A cough "Sides- Ain't like you-You've never been on the inside- I can see it by lookin at you. Sure. You're hard, but you ain't hard.." Whatever the frak that means. And with that he's reaching for his mug. "No." And a sip. "I am not a convicted murderer. I've killed- but never murdered no one." said plainly. "I am convicted of Larceny-Theft, Assault of a Colonial Corrections Officer, Assault of an inmate. And Arson-and assault." silence for a moment. "Though I was born under the Arson assault sentence." Which means he can only have come from one Colony.

Canceron.

"You leave any woman I have dated out of this shit-You wanna insult me. Pick on something here.." voice a little steely there. But then he's shaking his head. "Trained Mechanic, with a Naval record-that was good. Minus the Theft." a sniff. And brow eyes look back and away.

"Don't know. You're stuck with me now-Either work me and let me get my freedom points back- Or space me. I've come to the conclusion long ago- that I am dead already." A look back to her. "Life in the system does it to you."

"No raping, but killing is ok. I can see why they let you into the Navy." Salazar says that without looking up. Her pen never ceases its steady rhythm over the paper. "What you see and what I am, PO, are usually two different things. The inside of a prison cell only makes you vitamin deficient and less likely to have access to fresh fruit. The routine, in itself, is actually a stabilizing influence. Did you know that when convicts leave prison, they often have difficulty of anxiety adjusting to life on the outside? Something about too much freedom of choice. The schedule falls away, and they're left with nothing but their thoughts." She hms. "Do you think there are too many thoughts, or that's just the sound of empty air whistling around up there that makes them return to crime?" She shrugs slightly, as if considering it briefly, then letting it go. It's unimportant. "Petty thievery isn't as glamorous as murder." She clicks her pen closed, then open again. "You should have a chat with Pvt Cavalera. He likes to talk about being dead inside. It's really cute how his big brown eyes get that cold stare. Ex-cons are so fun at parties." She looks across her desk at Vicks. "We're all dead. It's just a matter of when and how. Welcome to life." She taps the pen against her knee briefly. "You realize the military is a lot like the penal system only with less creamed corn and violation in the showers."

"Ah, But, I doubt your Private wasn't born into it. You see, I am a product of the system Literally and fruitfully. As such I know penal code better than some lifer. I've been it it since I could squall. You know- I just want out-really. System or not- Freedom ain't ever been a problem. See, I was put in, and forced to be ingrained. I was born in- repressed early on. So I wanted what they showed on TV's. the Caprican life, as opposed to serving my Pa's sentence." a grin there And he leans in again. "As for what makes other frakkers do it? They piss themselves at night-cause in Prison, they're something. Out there? You're jack shit." a chuckle and with that Judah's reaching a finger to dig at his teeth. "In Prison you can get a job- making license plates or shit. Ferment wine in your shitter and be the top dog with bitches. When you leave that-where men fear you? What you got but your thoughts…No wonder they want back in on the game- or kill themselves." Casual all this. "Not me- I need the air in my head."

And there's a bit of laughter. "Calvera ain't got shit. Naw.. You see You understand it. You're dead from when you're born. Frakked cause no one lives forever. Prison don't kill your spirit. Just cages it for a while, till it don't wake up. Mine? Mines on fire baby." a whistle through his teeth and Vicks nods. "I do- I liked the Navy. Not my fault that building a still would end my ass up in permanent Hock. Commander on the Evening Sun was a frakkin tard, if you ask me. Didn't like booze one bit."

"You're a better criminal with more internal pain because your mama squirted you out under the razor wire?" Salazar grins a little bit at that. "Criminal hierarchy has always entertained me. It's probably why I enjoy my job. Good for me, but it doesn't matter to you. Still, I'm sharing, since we have such a connection here." She chuckles at that, softly. "You're a frakkin' downer, Vicks. Shit. I'm glad to hear your sense of humor didn't leave you in a cell. You're gonna need that here, because if you twitch out of line, I will put a bullet in your head. Pilots, you know. So sensitive." She nods to him. "What do you have to offer this ship, aside from a discourse on incarceration and alternative DIY fermentation?"

"He needs better aim. That frakker with you. Was he your partner?" A snicker there and Vicks just grins back. And with that he's taking a long pull of his coffee. "I've never played the game-myself. Never cared too. But, hey, when you're born as shit- you know how to be shit better right?" See agreeance there. And he's just laughing a little more. "Yeah- I get that. But its because I don't give a shit. Easir to live that way- less reason to get in a fight- even if you're blood's for it." A sniff and he's snickering again. "Good, I like my legs not hurting." A roll of his shoulders before he's licking his lips. "Well. I am a mechanic. And I know how to mine for tylium. I was trained as a Deck crew member initially-but they booted my ass to Eningeering. So I know how Engines big an small work. I can do some electrical-meanin I am qualified. But, Mechanics is where I am stronger than a frakkin ox, if I may say so. I can punch like a mule- an Uh…" a pause as fingers move to scritch at his chin. Judah looking back down, towards whatever Salazar is scribbling on. "I can drive…Play dice, tell ya what rocks are rocks.. Steal shit.." a finger raised "Though my skill at that might be a bit suspect."

"Who shot you? No, that's Marek. He's the CAG. Which is convenient. One of my marines lost his lunch halfway across the deck. I'm sure you saw a low of that down in Sickbay. There's some civvie born disease spilling around through the crew. It's all sweats and vomit. I was feeling impatient, so I brought the nearest backup with a weapon. Pilots, you know. Usually they're shit on land. He's a good shot, though. Was aiming for your leg. Humanitarian bullshit. He didn't even go for a joint." She shakes her head, as if lamenting the softness of Navy. "You'd be surprised how many thieves get into the military. The trick is not frakkin' with the shit of people who outrank you." Salazar closes the folder, and tucks it into the desk drawer to her right. Vicks may catch a glance of a giant ink doodle of an antique six shooter, if he's looking just right. "You'll hang out in the Brig for a little bit longer, until we decide what to do with you. Cavalera's in there. You can chat with him. Compare notes. Trade recipes. If it gets cold, you can snuggle. But it's all on tape, so make it good." She rises, picking up her coffee mug. "Have you had a psych eval? It's all the rage. Oh, I'll give you some paper and a pen. You can write down all your buddies, and everything you know about them, including their crimes. Try not to stab Cavalera with it. He gets cranky when he's bleeding."

"Will I know Calavera when I see him?" Vicks asks, before he's looking to pick some lint from his penal jumpsuit. And eyes are looking- a faint grin as there's a slight catch there. "I always wondered what you guys wrote." A smirk before he's nodding all the same. "I get fed, right- And my own shitter too, right?" Again the sarcasm there, before he's nodding all the same. "Yeah-sure. I'll get it right up-Them notes. Though I don't know those guys as well. Not like we were close or shit. I only know that Tarver was the only rapist amongst us. So we killed him when he made a move on Avery." simple there. Wait for the wolf to go after the weakest-then kill it.

"If I cuddle- I'll be sure to hit him in the face with a money shot- you know. Make a frakking impression." And with that Vicks turns his head, the mirth dropping for a bit. "How long, fore someone checks on my noggin, an I find out if you're going to put me to work- or to space? Need to know."

"Cavalera will be the two hundred pound giant black marine. He scowls a lot." Salazar smirks at something she doesn't say. "Just don't get attached to the little blonde in the other cell. She's due to be executed in a few days." She resists the smile, but does reply, "I could make some good money with that digital recording." She's referring, of course, to the money shot. "And by money, I mean booze and smokes." She glances over, as she reheats her coffee cup with a fresh pour. "Your leg has to heal up, you need your eval. But you're behind some refugees who enlisted. Full physical workup, then you'd apply with proper paperwork. You want to impress the shrink. She'll boot you so fast your head will spin. Then you get it past your potential CO, and consult the XO. If and only if you make it through all that, you get assigned. Three to four weeks to full duty is my guess, from start to finish. Less if we decide you're a danger to humanity. Then it's the airlock for you." She replaces the coffee with a rattle. "Lucky for you the whole 'almost everyone was killed by the enemy' thing lowered our standards somewhat. Like an excess of beer at a frat party, it greases the wheels and drops the panties. Female pilots are easy. I can give you some names."

"Haven't had my dick wet in sometime. Names would be nice." A response to go with the grin, that comes finally. As for the rest he takes it in, or soaks it in, till a light bulb seems to break in right there. "He the frakker I tried to de-ball?" Only Black Marine he's remembered meeting. And there's a look back to Dover-before eyes are shooting back to the S2. "Right, well If I get spaced-I get spaced. Least I know its coming." A nod "Like the blonde.." Still she's a bit further dow from where he is currently. No talking to her, he's been given that impression. And so he's going to finish whatever is left in his mug-might be the last coffee he has for days. Or, in this case-weeks.

"So with the psyche-should I be my usual charming self?"

"The one and the same marine. You two should have a lot to talk about." The S2 glances over. "Oh, the blonde's getting the firing squad." The correction is minor and largely unnecessary. "Yep, answer all of her questions. If she thinks you're lying, she bounces you. Frankly, I like my Brig nice and empty. It's getting a little crowded in there. So I hope you can scrape yourself up off the bottom of the barrel you live in to get yourself in good. Long as you follow orders and know your shit, I think you'll fit in fine." She returns to her desk, coffee in hand. "When you finish your coffee, Dover will take you back to the Brig." Apparently the S2 has all she really needs.

Vicks grunts. "I work hard to live in that frakkin barrel. It takes a lot to not truly give a shit in this day and age. I tell you." And with that he's nodding as he is slowly moving to rise- a small wince visible, but he does his best to hide. Second nature that. "Alright, so I'll compliment her on her tits and ass-then answer her questions. You know- be polite." Or some semblance of it. Probably, the Doctor will get the same thing Sal got. "Oh- my manners. Stunning Tits, and I will assume a decent ass." The prisoner quips as Dover comes over, hand already to his shoulder. "Yeah-yeah. I am coming." A grunt as eyes flick back towards the S2. "Enjoy the coffee- You need cream? You know where my cell is.." And with that Judah is being led off. Back to Brig time.

Salazar sips her coffee, then drops down into her seat, sliding her legs crossed before she glances over at the con. "Look at it this way, you don't have to crawl all the way out of the barrel. Just… rise a little bit. Float like scum instead of settling like dregs." She nods. "Charming. That's a good start, dick jokes, but you might want to work a little harder. Shrink's not a pilot. She has some standards. Stay with the tits angle. Maybe compliment her hair or something. I hear women like that."

A peer over his shoulder as he's being led out. "Hey, I don't wanna date, or marry the broad. I just want her to know I wouldn't mine cuming on her..UNless she's a prudish bitch." a laugh and a shove from Dover, right. "Toodles."

"You've been in hack for how long? I think every woman on this ship already knows that, Romeo." Salazar glances over briefly, as the PO leaves. "Watch Cavalera's hands. He talks and gropes in his sleep."

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