Down and Out
Down and Out
Summary: Castor, Samantha, and Roubani's strange moods clash in the mess hall. Eddie's in the middle.
Date: PHD059
Related Logs: Beacon, Beacon 2

Kharon - Mess Hall

The mess is the place to find some kind of food, emphasis on the some kind, however, for Castor Leda this means warm food and that never ceases to be a source of pleasure. He signs for his food and then he begins looking for a place to sit. He finds an empty table and begins to pick at his rice, vegetables, and mystery meat." He is eating slowly and there is a distant look on his face as he is clearly lost in thought.

A few minutes later a tray lands somewhere near Castor, with an over-expanse of personal space left between them. Roubani sits down without asking permission first, setting his teacup aside and picking up a spoon to start stirring his soup.

Castor smiles at the company, "Hey Poet." He says as he takes a moment to eat a bit of his rice as he asks, "How are things?" Earlier on Leda was breaking up a fight between a pilot and a marine, fun times, he then notes the expanse of personal space but says nothing, he is an Aquarian and personal space is different for each Colony.

"Fine, sir." Roubani stirs. The skin around his eyes is dark and unattractively puffy, battlescars of a sleepless night. "Yourself?"

Castor chuckles softly as he thinks about his past day, "Well enough, Poet." He then takes a spoonful of vegetables, As he chews he takes a moment to feel things out and he says, "Well, I had a rough patch a while back flying…lost my cool a bit." He shakes his head, "i shouldn't have, I mean, things are smoothed over now but it wasn't me, that isn't who I am."

Roubani's eyes are on some point past his spoon handle. They focus again by the end of that, lifting a little bit towards Castor's face, and the spoon clinks his bowl as he resumes trying to let the hot liquid cool down. "Is that so."

Castor takes a moment look over at Roubani as he stops eating, clearly it bothers him that he lost his cool, "Yeah, I mean I didn't do it physically as much as I did on the inside. I just…" He shakes his head, "Nevermind, this isn't the sort of thing I should be talking about with you. Anyway, how is your arm, you going to be ready to fly soon?"

"I don't know." Roubani answers, talking to his soup. "It's complicated." He runs the spoon edge along some congealing ring-around-the-soup-bowl-collar. His mind processes the conversation backwards, so that said now he murmurs, "Obviously you do want to talk about it. It's fine."

Castor is clearly bothered by the anger that came out in the pilot earlier as he has been mulling over it but instead he takes a moment to ask, "Why is it complicated, Rou, you are either healing or you are not?" He then pauses as his mind goes over basic first aid and then he leans in, "Poet, you are keeping it clean right, no infection?" He says in an honest concerned manner, "Do they need to give you a new cast?"

"Some problems with the hand." Roubani finally ducks his spoon under the soup surface and takes a slurpless bite. "No infection, sir."

Castor seems a bit disappointed but he also seems a bit concerned, "What sort of problems, Poet, I mean clearly you are a brilliant young man who has saved all of our asses but I'd love to see you flying again." He considers this as he completely stopped eating, "If it isn't to personal, may I ask what the problems with the hand are?" His tones are clearly sympathetic and honest, Leda doesn't want to lose a pilot.

"I really don't want to talk about it just now, sir." Roubani puts the spoon back into the liquid. His tone is less defensive than it is slightly edgy. "If you don't mind. It will heal or it won't."

Castor is a keen one socially and so he backs off, "Well, I hope it heals." He says, "Though, you've got a strong mind about you which I think is a good thing and that means you can do any number of things in the fleet." His tone is still honest and it carries a supportive tone. "However, I'm not hear to push you and I'll speak no more of this." He then takes a second to take a sip of tea.

Roubani picks up his fork now, so he can subject the potatoes on his plate to the tines. Stab stab stab, three pieces and that goes into his mouth. This is then repeated.

Castor still isn't eating as he says, "I still don't know why I got as upset as I did." Deep down he knows that there were issues, but, still, he it is the act of becoming angry that bothers him. "I'm cool and calm when the crap hits the fan. Rou, I was told to RTB and I've never been told that before." He says in a slightly distressed tone.

Stab, stab. "I heard you." Roubani mutters in return. Stab. "On tac."

Castor puts his hands to his head, "I'm sorrry." He then takes a breath, "Rou, why did I get so worked up over this?"

"Well I don't know, /Cas/." That lashes out sharp-edged with sarcasm. The intention of which is hazy, as Roubani immediately clears his throat and turns slightly red. "I apologise…that was uncalled for."

Castor notices the anger and then realizes he suddenly went all informal on Roubani, "Sorry, Poet…I got lost in thought there. Didn't mean to rile you up." He does seem genuinely sorry as he takes a moment to put away his feelings on why he would get angry. Clearly though the thought bothers him.

"It's fine." Roubani gently rubs his thumb into the corner of his darkly circled eye. "I apologise." His finger presses the bridge of his nose and then his hand drops back to his food, back to potatoes. There's a pause for a while. "You were mad at Xanthus."

Castor nods, "I was mad at Xanthus it is true. Though I mean, why would I get angry, I'm supposed to be the good guy, I mean, the pilot was a bit of a kid and it pissed me off the way he was speaking." He doesn't add any extra information to this but he adds, "I am supposed to be in control at all times, I'm supposed to keep my head."

Roubani absently drifts his fork through his food, dividing up the potato pieces. "Believing yourself to be infallible is likely part of the problem, sir," he murmurs.

Castor considers this new information and he stops, "Yeah, you sound like Pollux." The way he says this carries a certain gravity to it. He takes a moment to look down at his food, "I guess….that is to say I feel like I need to hold things together, I need to be the glue that Xanthus was talking about and I feel like that at all times."

Eddie arrives from the Hallway - Deck 2, Midships.
Eddie has arrived.

The reference to another name goes past Roubani of course, but he doesn't go chasing after it. "With all due respect, sir," he says, voice still skirting mumbling. "That's very patronising. To all of us."

With hands thrust deep into the pockets of her fatigue pants, Eddie ambles into the mess hall with her head bent, more intent on the tips of her shoes then where she's going. She accidently shoulders a crewman, mumbling an apology as she skirts around him and heads to the line.

Castor raises an eyebrow, "And how would that be patronising?" he seems genuinely confused by this thought. Leda is sitting and not eating his mystery meat, vegetable, or rice as he speaks with Roubani. He is sitting near Poet and the two are speaking quietly as he adds, "Someone has to help hold us all together."

Roubani has a mostly-full cup of ration special soup on his tray, along with a plate of potatoes. He's dividing them up more than eating them, eyes down. The hiatused Viper jock has the signs of a long and unpleasantly sleepless night on his face, dark circles and puffy skin. His shoulders have an edgy sort of tension in them. "Why. Because you think the rest of us are too stupid? Too childish?"

Eddie bypasses any of the real food in the line, instead opting for a couple of packages of those stale tasteless crackers they tend to put out with the soup and people blatantly ignore in favor of things that don't taste as if they were made from cardboard. Having not bothered with a tray, once she gets what she needed, she just steps out of the line. Her Roubani Radar is strong, and is currently picking up an angry red distress call. Eddie isn't really spry on her feet, but she heads in that direction post haste.

Castor listens to Roubani as he says softly, "I have never felt that anyone is stupid or childish, Poet, you are probably smarter than I am it is just…on this ship we have some people that are ready to haul off and hit people and me, I'm supposed to hold people together and it ins't because I think people are stupid or childish but because someone has to keep watch and I do it because I care for my fellow crew."

"No, you do it for you." Roubani stabs a couple pieces of potato. One two three. "Because you need self-definition. Then something shatters that and you get angry because you feel lost. Not because of anyone else. That's why." Who is he even talking to? The potato on his fork, apparently. He looks up at Castor and smiles thinly, devoid of any humour. "Life's kind of bullshit like that. You know?"

Eddie hooks out a chair with her foot, dropping down into a seat with her cracker packets tossed onto the table in front of her. "You guys ever have /light/ conversation? You know. Talks about the weather, or the latest sports scores?" She wonders aloud as she opens one of the packages, selecting a cracker to nibble on. "You okay, punkin?" Her question is said aside to her fellow Ensign.

Castor considers this for a moment, he really does mull over it before he says, "You may be right Poet." He then looks over at Eddie, "Rou is deep like that and I need someone to bounce ideas off of." He then takes a moment to look back at Roubani, "Though even I think there is more to all of this than just bullshit, I may not believe in the Lords but there is something bigger, there has to be." He then asks Eddie, "What do you think Mooner? Is everything bullshit or is there something bigger?"

The sound of Eddie's voice chases that strange expression off Roubani's face, if not the tension in his body. He looks down at his food again, the potatoes he's been not eating for a while now. "Yeah, I'm…alright." As Castor starts in on this sort of topic he sets his elbow on the table, gently rubbing the ridge over his left eye. There's no opinion offered.

"Bulltthhit." Eddie says exuberantly with a mouthfull of crackers, causing a spray of crumbs in epic fashion. She's going to agree with Roubani, whether or not she believes it, most likely, and it's delivered with a smile. She finishes off her cracker in silence, which is probably more polite then sending projectiles across the table. She makes a grimace as she swallows, in her haste over here, she forgot to get something to drink to chase the dryness down with. "Engineering keep you up all night again, Rubix?" She asks, probably not buying the whole 'alright' thing.

Castor just remains silent, what he can he says, he has become the outsider in this conversation and he knows it. Instead he begins to work on his meal as he eats quietly.

"Yeah," Roubani says to Eddie. The answer's convenient, and he's a polite liar in public. He eats the three pieces of potato on his fork, glancing briefly at Castor and then clearing his throat. Water glass. "Sorry, Morales. We were talking about the…exercise. Flight." Which they weren't really, but sort of.

Eddie considers Roubani's profile for a moment, perhaps realizing there is something he's not saying, but she's not about to drag it out here at the lunch table. "Yeah? What about it? It sucked." Mainly because she end up eating snow. "Say, what was with that cigar, Castor. Was that some sort of joke? Damn thing blew up when I lit it."

Castor looks over at Roubani and then to Mooner, the two are thick as thieves after all. He takes a moment to stop chewing before he says clearly concerned, "Your cigar blew up?" The thought of it all unsettles him, "Mooner, that was supposed to be a legit cigar and I had traded a few things for it. I'll be talking to my suppliers because that isn't very funny and I'm sorry your cigar blew up." He says in honest tones.

Roubani smiles a little bit at the 'exploding cigar' bit, eyes staying down on his food. It barely moves the corner of his mouth and looks a little weird, but it's there.

Eddie smirks and shakes her head at Castor's reaction, "I'm just giving you shit, Leda. Woulda been frakking funny if it had though. It's called a practical joke. Maybe they didn't have those on Aquaria, when you were growing up." She says light-heartedly, always trying to turn the conversation away from deeper meaningful conversation.

Castor looks at Eddie and considers the pilots age before he jokes back, "Nah, I lived on Aquaria when dinosaurs roamed the planet and everything was still cooling. We didn't have time for practical jokes on account of we were running for our lives, hell, we only got shoes a week before everything went south with the Cylons."

Roubani mutters, stabbing a couple more potatoes. "You sound like Marek."

Eddie grimaces for Castor's benefit. "Then you must still have to have someone else tie your laces." She quips, then works on a second cracker, a wry grin firmly in place, aided by Roubani's words.

Castor adds, "Well, we liked velcro on Aquaria, I mean…we take our shoes off before we enter into each others houses." He then takes a moment to chuckles, "I do alright on my laces…mostly….okay sometimes I don't…especially every second day of the week." he then begins eating again as he forks at the rice.

Samantha arrives from the Hallway - Deck 2, Midships.
Samantha has arrived.

Roubani is quiet, distracted by his fork tines or whatever it is they currently represent to him. He stabs it slowly into a potato, aggression in slow motion that results, eventually with three on the tines. Which he eats. "How is Ensign Nevice," he murmurs to Castor.

Eddie is sitting at a table next to Roubani, Castor across from them. Eddie's downing crackers, Roubani's working on soup and potatoes, and Castor is picking through mystery meat and rice. Just another day in the mess hall. At least there are no food fights, or fist fights. Count that as a win. "Yeah. That day is a bitch. I know I forget how to shower on the odd days." She falls quiet, letting Castor answer about his current flame.

Samantha steps into the room, in her completely off duty clothes. Not even military regulated sweats. She was told to take a full day off and so she's taking a FULL day off. She's in a pair of shorts and a button down white shirt that is too big to meant to actually fit her. She's smoking as she walks, eyes still a hint bloodshot but the tears seem over now. She silently heads for the coffee maker.

Castor says, "Nevice and I are doing just fine." He smiles as he thinks about Kassia. He then looks over at Eddie, "Yeah, that day was a bitch. No one managed to score a win." He then asks, "Wait, Mooner, you shower every other day?" This creates a 'th frak' expression on his face as he looks over at Samantha as she enters, thank whatever is beyond because Castor is happy to see an ally, "Sam, wanna join us." He offers as he studies the woman, she is his friend after all and he will look after her.

Roubani forces down the last bite of potatoes, chewing quite slowly until he can get the lump down his throat. A sip of water and he digs his cigarettes from his pocket, tossing them on the table. One's fished out and lit in silence.

Eddie glances up to Samantha, who is so far out of uniform, that if brass catches her she'll be cleaning latrines for a week. Eddie does a quick scan of the room, to make sure no Captains are lurking in wait for the grieving lieutenant. Her eyes go back to Leda, apparently deciding it's not her problem about Sam. "Explains that smell, doesn't it?" She asks lightly, reaching for Roubani's pack of smokes, even though he didn't offer. "You wanna take a walk, Rubix? You done eating?"

Samantha pours out some coffee for herself and as Castor calls her over, she gives the table a simple nod and does indeed join them, whether the other's like it or not. At least she's not shooting her mouth off. She settles down into the chair next to Castor, taking a quiet sip of the black coffee in her mug before she murmurs quietly…"Mornin' Mooner… Poet, Tinman…" And that's it. Maybe Sam should grieve more. It shuts her up at least.

Castor looks over at Roubani for a moment and then he turns to Eddie, "Smell, Mooner, what smells?" He then gives Sam a soft look, "Take a seat Case, we have room for you." He then leans in and says quietly so that Samantha can't hear, "The pair of you better support Sam, she needs family now. You hear me?"

Roubani looks over the crumbs on his plate. "Few minutes," he murmurs, ashing his cigarette. His lighter's absently pushed towards Eddie even though he knows she's got hers handy. And then he's getting schoolteachered by Castor, which is fine until that rude little tack on the end. A brow subtly arches over those darkly circled eyes and he says nothing to the Jig, taking a drag off the smoke. To Samantha he says, quietly. "Good morning, sir."

Eddie pushes her chair back, "I love ultimatums with my crackers. Especially when it's spread on nice and thick." She says flatly, as she gets slowly to her feet. "Samantha, you hang in there." She offers earnestly and amicably, despite any differences she and Case might have. Pausing long enough to light her cigarette from Roubani's lighter, she sets it back down on the table by his hand, before rapping on the table twice. Seems she's starting on that walk early.

Samantha smirks a moment to Castor, shaking her head…"Don't… don't say it like that. I'm fine…Sorry, Mooner, Poet… don't…just never mind that. Really." She admits gently, looking suddenly more than a bit awkward. Eddie's strangely earnest words, however, do earn a bit of a look. She gives the woman a half smile and a slight nod, "…ah.. thanks, Mooner. It… we all just gotta hang in there… waitin' for.. a funeral announcement or something."

Leda looks over at Eddie and Roubani and then to Samantha, good job Leda shooting yourself inthe foot. "Case, I didn't mean it like that." His voice takes on comforting tones as he speaks to a friend, maybe his best friend on the ship. "And yeah, Sam, we are all here for you." See he threw all military rank out of the window for his friend.

Roubani seems to be settled at least until he finishes smoking. He sits back as Eddie stands, not looking up but returning that neatly silent two-rap against the table edge with his knuckles. Cigarette tapped into ashtray. Eyes back towards Castor and Samantha, sort of like a movie playing across from him.

It doesn't seem to pursuade Eddie to stay, "See you around." She tells the group, heading to the hatch, puffing away on her cigarette.

Samantha gives them both a bit of a wave, since it seems Poet and Mooner are leaving, and then she sinks back against Castor's arm a bit. She's quiet, really, just sipping at her coffee rather blandly. Not much in a talking mood, it does seem.

Eddie heads through the exit labeled <H> Hallway.
Eddie has left.

Castor takes a moment to sit with Samantha as he says nothing because he is cool like that with his best friend, he simply sits there.

Now there are three, and Roubani makes a soft, awkward clearing of throat. He doesn't have a notebook or a book to fiddle with. Even a pencil. So he just turns his eyes to the moving chow line, watching the catepillar go.

Samantha finally looks up to Roubani…"You… you're… religious, right, Ensign?" She inquires gently, not actually all that disparaging as she often is when the Gods come up. She just seems to genuinely want to know.

Roubani's attention is off in neverland, or at least the far wall, until someone speaks. His eyes flicker back to Sam, guarded but unapologetic. "Yes, sir."

Castor takes his turn to remain silent as he lets the pair talk, the lords are not his forte.

Samantha nods faintly, "…who… Who should be preparing his… funeral service. If… I might ask? I do not… do these things… but I would like to attend." Sam inquires very gently, sitting up a bit straighter and doing her best to keep all emotion out of this conversation possible. Factual, simple, like talking about the weather. Sure.

No names have been mentioned, but it's not like Roubani needs to ask. "Lieutenant Cygnus is attending the details, sir. I am not sure if he will be performing the service, but he will be coordinating it. It will be announced, I'm certain. Regardless, I can let him know of your committment if you like."

Castor eats quietly as he stays with Samantha and he is cool with whatever she says at this point.

Samantha takes another gulp of her coffee and nods to Roubani, "Good, good… as long as someone is doing it. That was my biggest…concern." Samantha admits gently, her lips still pressed in a concern line but she seems to be a hint more relaxed now with the news that Cygnus is going it.

Roubani seems content to leave it there. Some would have inevitably opened up some conversation can of worms but the Ensign keeps religion, much like most other things, to himself. "I expect it will be soon, sir," he assures her in a murmur. "If it is not publically announced I will be sure you are informed."

Samantha reaches her hand across the table to offer to shake Roubani's palm…"Thank you, Ensign. I.. owe you. Be well, you know?" She states simply, giving a half smile but leaving it there. She just isn't much in the chatting mood.

Roubani's entire body tenses slightly as the hand comes out. He regards it for a few awkward seconds before clearing his throat. "I apologise, my hands aren't clean. Engine room." Which is an obvious lie but it's delivered in a way he can hope is polite. He rolls to his feet, taking his cigarette with him. Tense and tired, edginess clings to him as he mashes out his cigarette with a little more blunt force than necessary. "I have duty, sirs. If you'd kindly excuse me." And he's gone, unless stopped.

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