Front and Back
Front and Back
Summary: The CAG has a talk with Komnenos after a shift, in which Thorn gets a new job and makes an inquiry about the prisoner.
Date: PHD216
Related Logs: Occurs shortly before Jules' death in the brig and associated logs.

It's a regular day at the office. With a briefing just recently let out, Kai's at the back of the room, updating flight assignments on the whiteboard. Which currently consists of paging through his duty roster, marker clamped between his teeth as he peruses the thing.

A flightsuited figure steps quietly into the ready room, pulling the hatch closed behind him with a soft metallic clank. Thorn seems to have recently returned from CAP, if the tousled hair and mildly tired expression is any indication. He approaches Marek, clearing his throat softly to let the other man know he's there. "Captain? You wished t' see me."

Kai glances over his shoulder at the arriving ECO, then back to his duty roster. The pen's slid out from between his teeth, where it thankfully hasn't managed to smear black marker due to being capped. "Forgotten how to salute, Thorn?" is given mildly while the Captain continues sorting through his papers. He's dressed in his blues this evening; patrol, for him, was hours ago.

Komnenos' brow twitches slightly; other than that, his face is a mask of non-expression. "Course not, sir," he replies, a note of carefully restrained condescension in his voice, as if the very thought was insulting. Certainly had enough opportunities to practice, hasn't he? In any case, his right hand snakes up into a rigid salute, his eyes continuing to stare down into Marek's expectantly.

The condescension, if it's noticed, is ignored. At least Marek doesn't seem to be in the mood to play games tonight; he tosses the papers onto his desk, turns to face the taller officer, and snaps off a sharp salute in return. After it's dropped, he moves to settle at the edge of the desk, hands retreating to his trouser pockets. "As I'm sure you're aware, Ivory's future as an active pilot isn't looking good. I've got nuggets coming in, but only a handful of them have any prior flight experience. Which means I need to get my countermeasures officers up to snuff."

With the courtesies out of the way, Thorn relaxes slightly; his feet spread slightly as he folds his arms behind his back. He nods slowly at Marek's words. His tone is all business as the pair begins discussing, well, business. "Yes, sir, I'd gotten that impression. Shame, that; man's a stuffed shirt, but a hell of a pilot." His head tilts ever so slightly to one side; the curiousity at the mention of ECOs is evident on his face.

"He is." A stuffed shirt, or a hell of a pilot, the CAG doesn't elucidate. His eyes skirt just shy of meeting Thorn's while they converse: possibly a personal preference, possibly a cultural relic. "You're the best backseater I have, Thorn. Don't let it go to your frakking head." That's slotted in pretty drily. "You asked me a while back, if I'd let you start flying missions. The answer's still no. Until you're up to my standards in the pilot's seat, which I'm going to have you start training for immediately. Any problems with that?"

Marek's dry comment produces a crack in Thorn's lithic facade; the ECO cracks a tiny smile. "Course not, sir. Perish the thought." Thorn matches Kai's dryness with a deadpan of his own. Any thought of levity, though, passes a moment later, and Komnenos' eyes widen slightly. He blinks at Kai for a moment, slightly surprised, then his head starts shaking slowly. "No, sir. That won't be a problem."

Kai nods curtly. "Good. You'll be going out with Black Cat, so she can evaluate your performance for me. You give her any shit, and you'll be going out with me." This time he does meet the younger man's eyes, for a count of about three or four seconds.

"Believe it or not, sir, I do have a professional bone or two in my body," Thorn replies, his lips twisting for a moment in what could charitably be called a seriously understated smile. "I told Captain Legacy once a couple months ago, I'm tired of playing the iconoclast. It's exhausting work, and the pay sucks." A quick nod, and his tone is completely serious once again. "It doesn't matter much t' me who I fly with, Captain. But, for everyone's sake, I'll keep my nose clean."

"I don't know what an iconoclast is, so I'll take your word for it," murmurs the Captain, a little blithely. He looks to the flight board briefly, then back to Komnenos, and nods to the last thing said. "You will, or I'll kick your ass." Shifting off the edge of his desk, he starts back to his feet again; his shoulders maintain their slight slouch, like he couldn't care less about his height.. or lack thereof. "Didn't see you at the shindig down on the surface," he mentions casually.

"I'd be a fool t' expect anything else at this point, sir," Anton replies, presumably to the ass-kicking part. His own eyes flick to the whiteboard for a moment; a curious gaze sweeps over the captain's handiwork before back to Kai himself. There's an odd jerking motion, as though he was about to dismiss himself before being dismissed, but caught himself just in time. Kai's last remark is met with a glance at the deck, Thorn's arms falling at his sides. There's a long pause before Thorn, still looking away from Marek, replies. "No, sir," he says simply. "I was here."

Kai's lips twitch slightly in what might be amusement. "You don't have to sound so guilty about it. I'd have been here, too, if I didn't feel obligated to put in an appearance." He watches Thorn for a few seconds, then retrieves his whiteboard marker and steps past. "Something on your mind?"

"Guilty?" A small sound, almost a snort, escapes from Thorn's lips. "Not… guilty, precisely. Don't know what I'd call it, really." His voice is a bit unsure, but that could have to do with the appearance of the rarely seen Slightly Chummy Kai. Thorn's eyes dart to Marek's at the question; after a short pause, there's a short shake of the head. "Something on my mind? Not really, sir… why?" He reconsiders. "Well. There are a few things I've been thinking of lately, but it's probably not th' kind of thing you're thinking of."

Kai looks over his shoulder briefly, then back to the whiteboard as he erases Thorn's name with his fist and starts scrawling it in elsewhere. "Just seemed like you had something on your mind." Squeak, squeak, squeak. "Dismissed, then." It's abrupt, and it's characteristically gruff.

"Right, sir." This time, Komnenos remembers to salute before turning on his heel and heading for the exit. He doesn't get far, though, before turning back in Marek's direction, a slightly consternated expression on his face; he looks as though there's something he suddenly can't shake from his mind. "Something I have been thinking about lately. Well, among other things, anyway… Ozymandias. The killer. The traitor. Whatever th' frak we're calling her these days. I've heard some… interesting things."

The salute is, of course, reciprocated before Marek resumes his work at the whiteboard. When Komnenos stops, turns, and addreses him again, the Captain pauses in his writing and drops his eyes for a moment. "I'm not sure what you've heard, but as far as I'm concerned, she's in the gods' hands now." His voice is low, and holds an odd quality that can't quite be termed sadness. Almost, but not quite. After a few seconds, he continues scrawling again. He doesn't repeat the dismissal, and he doesn't turn to watch Thorn.

"I've heard she's claimed she's a Cylon." The words are said frankly, with no hesitation. "And I've heard that most people — including the command staff — don't believe her. Think she's crazy." There's another brief silence; for his own part, Komnenos doesn't reveal a personal belief either way. "What if she's telling th' truth?" He asks the question as if it were a revelation. "I read once that th' radiation at Ragnar had an adverse affect on Cylon technology, for whatever reason. Part of why we built a base here. Now, I'm hearing she's 'sick'. She might not be metal, but if she's still Cylon tech… perhaps the damage simply manifests itself in a way a humanoid body can express." He shakes his head. "It just seems a waste t' me t' throw aside such a potentially valuable intelligence source so cavalierly. If she's not a toaster, then by all means, put a bullet in her head and shove 'er out th' nearest bleedin' airlock." The man's accent thickens a bit as he speaks. "But if she is, then we'd have wasted a valuable asset when we could have just waited a bit longer t' make sure. I don't see what that hurts." Komnenos trails off as he stares into the back of Marek's head, giving a slight shake of his own before turning for the exit. If he didn't know better, he might have thought Kai hadn't even heard him. "Well. If it's something you'd like t' discuss later, sir… y' know where t' find me," he says quietly, and then he's out of the room.

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