Summary: Salazar preps for duty, still in the Red Berths, and has a brief exchange with Absalom.
Date: PH204 (08 Nov 2009)
Related Logs: None

CEC Kharon, Deck 2, Red Squadron Berthings
IC Time: Post Holocaust Day #204
OOC Time: Sun Nov 08 15:04:51 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.

A marine is seated on the edge of one of the bunks over yonder. She's wearing a black fitted tshirt with a CMC logo on the sleeve and a pair of black cargo pants. Her shiny black combat boots are on the floor. That marine, on second glance, appears to be the S2. You can tell by all the tattoos visible up her arms and on her neck, along with the smattering of blue stars across her temple and cheek. Her hair is pulled back in a knot at the nape of her neck, pinned back as if she's about to go on duty, or as been on duty. A giant fat magic marker (Sharpie type) is in hand. The CAG is asleep in the bunk she's perched on, face down in his pillows. She might be drawing on him. It looks like she is, but would the S2 do that to the CAG? Unlikely. Maybe he was the only pilot asleep and topless when she came in for a security check.

Sweaty? Check. Pale? Check. Looking like he's glad to be back on the safety of the deck? Check. Must have been another enjoyable flight for Absalom as he wanders over towards his bunk, and starts stowing his flight gear. First goes the pistol, then, the helmet. All the while he's muttering to himself, "Fix my bird like that…don't think to check the fuse box after you put in a new battery…"

Salazar glances over as a pilot comes into the Berthing, the marker still in her hand. She watches him, dark eyes tracking th sweaty, post CAP airy fairy. Her own pistol is removed from the holster at her thigh, and resting against the bedding nearby her knee. Her eyes skip to the bare back beside her, and she slides her arm behind the cover of her body, does something or other, then caps the marker. "Mechanical difficulties?" No one's got a marker here, kids. She shoves it down the mattress as the CAG continues to snooze.

Absalom hasn't apparently noticed Salazar, or, figured her to be some other pilot that's sitting in the CAG's bunk. Who knows. Anyways, he snaps his head up as he hears her question, and then stands up slowly, "You could say that. Just got my bird back, had to have some work done on it from the other night's fight, and, halfway through my CAP, my DRADIS and HUD went out. My radio followed a few minutes later. Three cubit fuse someone had forgot to check prior to liftoff burned out and took a couple others with it. I had to land the damn thing without communication, or radar, or lights as the deck officer just told me. Great day for a flight otherwise, but, now I'm grounded while they re-check everything."

There's a fairly stoic moment of consideration as the S2 goes about climbing down from the CAG's bunk. A half empty mug of coffee, still hot, rests on the corner of the communal table. Salazar reaches for it just after she hits the floor with bare feet. "It's always the little things that get you. Still, they train you lot to be hands on. You could always suggest that as a training rotation for the rest of the Wing, just in case. Flaming wreckage on the flight deck isn't fun for anyone." Not even the CMC.

"I would, but I don't wanna wake the CAG, and I want to spend some time forgetting the hour and a half just happened." Absalom replies with a slow shrug. He turns back to his locker, pulls out a thin silver flask, and tucks it into one of his pockets.

"I hear that." Salazar sits on the edge of Mars' empty bunk, and pulls her boots over to drag them onto her feet. She sets the coffee on the floor nearby after a sip, and goes about lacing up her boots tightly, and blousing the cargo pants over them. "He'll be conscious again at some point today." She finishes off the other boot, then stands. She reaches back to slide her sidearm from the edge of the bunk, and slide it into the holster. "I wouldn't wake him." She agrees with the pilot on that.

Absalom snorts and starts for the washroom, shaking his head, "See, life's so much easier around here when CAG's worn out. We really ought to start a collection to keep you round pilot country just to keep the edge off him."

Salazar's snort answers Absalom's own. "I don't take the edge off. I just put it to use." The black haired marine can't help but smirk. "You take your life into your hands a lot." Not a question. She shakes her head just a little, and reaches for her coffee again. "Luck with that. Watch your six. Marek looks like he's sleeping, but you just never know." Amused, she finishes off her prep to go on duty, dropping her tags under her tee. The coffee is picked up last.

"Life's no fun if you just sit and let shit happen to you." Absalom calls towards the woman as he ducks around the corner into the washroom.

Salazar raises her coffee cup slightly, perhaps a 'later' getsure, and she steps over to the hatch. It's spun, she steps out, and the motionless CAG is left in his bunk to contemplate life, universe, and how to beat the frak out of everyone who just left the room.

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