Summary: Roubani returns from Sagittaron, and Kai calls him in over some new injuries.
Date: MD042
Related Logs: Tradition

Ready Room

The ready room's empty, and Kai's seated at his desk in the back. Which is to say, the desk he shares with the CAG and the raptor squadron leader. There's a stack of gun tapes beside him, and a red pen in his hand, whose end is currently being chewed upon while he considers a blunt-edged manifest in front of him. He's dressed in his duty blues, as befits work.

Roubani takes about twenty minutes to get to the ready room, having checked his weapon back in and cleaned the gunpowder smell off his hands. Uniform straight and buttoned, the tall Ensign steps through the hatch and heads for Kai's desk, pace slowing to a stop a few feet away. He salutes. "Sir."

"Have a seat, Ensign." Kai looks up only briefly, probably more to ensure there is a chair to sit in, than anything else. His paperwork is pushed aside, foldered, and the pen tucked back into his pocket.

Thankfully those ready room aides think of everything. Roubani folds himself stiffly into the chair, regarding the Captain without a word. The swelling across his taped, broken nose and black eye keeps his right eye partially shut.

"How was your sister's wedding?" are the first words out of the Captain's mouth. He seems reticent about this whole thing: arms folded around himself, shoulders slightly hunched. There's probably things he'd rather be doing, than sussing out why one of his pilots has a broken nose and a stormcloud brewing over his head.

"Eventful." Roubani doesn't seem skittish about this. Strangely enough, he smiles a little. "Sir, you don't have to do this. I'm fine. And no, this isn't going to affect my flying."

Kai doesn't smile, though he does take a few moments to peruse that taped-up nose and bruised eye. "Got you really good, didn't they?" A breath. "No, I don't have to do this. But when one of my pilots walks into the firing range with a broken nose and a black eye, and starts putting bullets into a sheet of paper like it ran over his puppy and pushed his mamma off a balcony in the same afternoon.." He attempts to hold the Ensign's gaze there. "I'd like to know what's going on."

"Most people get in trouble when they /can't/ shoot their firearm," Roubani says, a little drily. "I had a good session. I'm not going to go and unload a clip in the mess hall, sir, if that's what you're afraid of."

"No, I'm not afraid of that," Kai replies evenly, still watching the young man across from him. "But you've seemed bothered by something, since a couple of nights ago. I don't want to remand you to a psychiatrist, Ensign, as it'll go on your permanent record." So he's making his own fumbling attempts, seemingly.

Roubani exhales quietly, tapping his index finger against the back of his hand. "I was just a little anxious about going home." He makes a passing gesture towards his face and raises an eyebrow. "Can you blame me?"

Kai isn't a man skilled in reading other people, or navigating the complexities of interaction with other human beings. Give him a viper and a mission objective, any day. But after some pause for careful consideration, he gives Roubani a small nod. "You might want to put some ice on that." The irony causes him to smile. Slightly.

Roubani's return smile is just as slight. Probably because the busted lip doesn't allow for much else. There's a tinge of something else in it. Sadness, maybe. "I have some, thank you."

Kai starts slipping the pen out of his pocket again, with the intention of continuing his work undoubtedly. Eyes lowered, he slides the folder closer again, but pauses on opening it. "Anything else, Ensign?" It's offered about as close to gently as Marek's likely to get.

Roubani looks down at the folder and pen, watching it for a few seconds before looking back at Kai. "No, sir." If there are any more words, they're not coming right now. He stands up, his back stiff, and waits for formal dismissal.

Kai waits for the 'no, sir', and meets the other pilot's eyes for a moment while he rises. There's a small nod, and a shuffling of papers being drawn out of their folder. "I'll take your CAP in the morning. Dismissed." Conversation closed, he picks up where he left off with his annotations in margins.

"Sir." Roubani's answer sounds like acknowledgment. Though come morning, he'll still be suited up anyway. He turns and heads out.

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