Laundry And Robots
Laundry and Robots
Summary: Awkward Introductions Lead to Discussions about Robots.
Date: PHD014
Related Logs: Related Logs (Say None if there aren't any; don't leave blank)

Castor walks into the laundry room, an unlit thin cigar hanging in his mouth laundry in a basket is cradled between his hip and his wrise. In his other hand is a bottle of Aquarian Rum. He strides quietly and pretty much throws all of his laundry in together, green, grey, black….check no need for sorting. He throws in some detergent and starts the machine. He the places his bottle down for a moment to reach out for a lighter and of course he lights his cigar. He then opens the bottle and takes a swig before he turns to notice others in the room. He gives a sheepish grin, "Anyone want a swig?"

Kai merely grins a little, and with his back turned to the pair, they'll never be the wiser. His washing load is started, and he trudges off to take care of the drycleaning; and in doing so, misses Castor's entrance for the time being.

Roubani arrives from the Hallway - Deck 3, Midships.
Roubani has arrived.

Eddie pauses in what she's doing to look over to Nine, "I…didn't -keep- the shit, Petty Oh." A shake of her head and she's back to shuffling her clothes over. When everything is shoved in the dryer, she smacks the lid closed and punches a button. "It was just a prank, not a threat." A glance is given over her shoulder to Castor, but more importantly the bottle in his hands. Her eyes say 'gimme gimme', her fear of the Captain in proximity keeps her mouth from echoing.

"… Oh." That's all Nine has to say about that. Especially because the God comes to the laundry room in the hands of… someone she doesn't know. But he's offering! "Yesplease," she whispers. Not afraid of the Captain, evidently.

Castor seems unaware the Captain is in the room so after noticing Eddie's expression and hearing Nine's verbal confirmation he begins to walk forward with the bottle, "This may very well be the last Aquarian rum I will ever have…well I have one more bottle but still." He takes a drag from his cigar and turns to blow smoke away from the pair, "I hope you don't mind if I smoke…" he says, "Anyway, I don't think we've been formally introduced. Name's Leda. Most folks call me Castor, anyway, I just shipped in from the Orpheus. Nice ship you have here." He says as he takes a swig and places the bottle down where either of the two can take the bottle. "Help yourselves." He then leans against a different washer so he can drink from the bottle as well.

Roubani has - what else - a bag of laundry in hand as he comes into the hotter-than-normal room. Under his other arm is a notebook and calculator and behind his ear, a pen. Every space is a work space. He pauses in the entrance as the double scent of smoke and liquor is detectable in the room, hesitating.

Kai isn't gone long with his drycleaning. He's just folding and tucking away the carbon copy of the form he signed, when he spots the pilot with a bottle of rum and a cigarette. "If you light yourself on fire, Lieutenant, just remember that property acquisition starts with your commanding officer." He leans against his washing machine, arms folding as he briefly notes Roubani's arrival with a monotone, 'Ensign'.

Nine takes the bottle in both her hands, lifting it slowly and bringing it toward her lips, leaning in to close the distance, her eyes closing halfway as she tips the bottle upward and takes the God reverently into her body in an act of communion. It's not a long drink, nor a gluttonous one, not even enough to get her particularly buzzed, and she lowers the bottle, licking the rim surreptitiously before she puts it down again. "Thank you," she tells Leda. "I'm Nine," she introduces herself, then looks to Roubani briefly before her attention returns to the washer in which her clothes are swimming.

Eddie exhales long and hard as the alcohol is spoken of, but she has to keep her mind centered on the fact that she has a duty shift later. The drinking can wait. With her clothes tumbling in the dryer, she turns back to the room at large and spies Roubani in the entrance. "Yo. Rubix. Speak his name and he shall appear." Never mind that she and Nine's discussion has been over for ages now. "You have a fan club." She announces to her fellow Ensign, before tipping her head towards Nine to indicate who is the Founder.

Castor looks at Nine and says, "It's a pleasure to meet you and your welcome. Have some more if you like." At the moment that Eddie greets Roubani, Castor, hears the Captain's voice and stands at attention with the bottle on the machine and the cigar now at his side, "Sir, we do brew our rum strong on Aquaria though I'll see to it that the cigar goes out if it is bothering you." First rule of flight school, do not frak with the Captain, "If the Captain is off duty perhaps he'd like to join us, sir?"

"…excuse me?" Roubani replies to Eddie, blankly. He glances between the women and then looks over at Kai as he hears his rank, nodding politely. He sets his work and his bag of uniform pieces down on a table, staying close. "Sir." Castor receives a brief assessment, his face being unfamiliar.

"It's alright," Nine replies to Leda's offer for more, "If you abuse the God, the God will certainly find a way to abuse you in return," she adds by way of explanation. Her cheeks do glow with a reddish flush, either from that piece of Dionysus she's holding in her belly or from Eddie's lack of discretion. She gives Eddie a kind of woeful, dark glance, then looks to the washing machine again as if wondering whether there's still time for her to crawl inside of it, herself.

"At ease," Kai offers dismissively, cracking a small smile at Castor's words. "We're all off duty here, though I'm on shift in a couple of hours, so I'll have to pass. What's this about a fan club?" His eyes travel to Nine, expression subtly bemused.

Eddie merely smiles enigmatically toward Roubani, Nine and Kai, and doesn't clarify further. She's done her duty. As the laundry room starts to get a little crowded, Eddie goes to retrieve her shoes where they have been left willy nilly in the middle of the floor, stooping to grab them. Retreating back to the dryer her clothes are in, it's like she doesn't want to risk any more pranks involving excrement. She'll babysit her laundry, thank you very much. Leaning against the bank of dryers, she folds one foot up over her knee, wobbling as she pulls back on her socks.

Castor eases up at Kai's words, "Thank you, sir." He says witb a bit of relief. Castor was one of the last pilots to get moved to the Kharon and he certainly is a new and unknown face on this ship, in fact the current expression on his face clearly says, 'What the frak' Now while his face says what the frak his hands move to the bottle taking another swig. He says to Nine who seems to have wandered off, "It's called a hangover." He grins as he takes another small swig. He looks at Roubani, "Ensign" He takes a puff of his cigar and he asks Kai, "Is it always this lively." By lively he means strange.
Castor adds, "Sir"

Nine has learned that lesson, herself. Well, no excrement was involved, but the last time she lost a sock it ended up poorly for the whole ship. So she stands there with her hands laid flat and protectively over the cover of the washing machine, just in case the goblins try to thief her underthings. She doesn't have anything to say, either.

Kai seems unperturbed by the lack of elucidation. It's not like he ordered anyone to talk; the silence is probably only more incriminating. "Depends on whether you manage to catch Morales having some quality time with the washing machine," he answers drily. After a pause, and a moment's consideration, "Leda, Roubani, Roubani, Leda, Leda, Morales." It's like throwing candy into a pile of schoolchildren, and hoping they can sort it out amongst themselves.

Eddie smirks and ticks a finger off her forehead as she's introduced to Castor. If she has any shame about riding the spin cycle like a bucking bronco well past the eight second mark, it certainly isn't showing on her face. "Pleasure." She must just be on a different shift from Leda to not really be well acquainted with him, but no doubt she's seen him around. While she digs out her pack of cigarettes from the waistband of her sweat pants, she comments idly to the Captain, "If you throw in a pair of shoes and put the setting on 'cotton/towels' aggitation, it counts as doin' it rough."

Castor turns to Kai, "Thanks Captain." He looks at Nine, Roubani, and Eddie, "Right, sorry, sir. I'm Leda, you can call me Castor. I'm a Lieutenant, Jr. Grade. Viper pilot." He then offers a wecloming smile, "Pleasure to meet you both." As Edde speaks Castor gives a small chuckle. He takes another puff from his cigar and then picks up his bottle of Aquarian rum, "Care for some Roubani? Might be some of the last we'll ever see."

Cygnus arrives from the Hallway - Deck 3, Midships.

Nine looks to Eddie again, unable to stay angry for long with a fellow mechanical 'enthusiast.' She shifts her weight forward and then almost unaccountably upward as she crawls on top of her washer and draws herself up into a handstand, then lowers herself until she's resting on her head, her arms folded behind her and legs folded in front of her, 'indian-style,' just— upside-down.

Roubani's finger taps the table as Kai talks. Thirty-three times, the number of letters in all their names in that list. "Lieutenant," he says to Castor with a nod. More Lieutenants to watch out for. The offer of liquor gets a shake of his head. "No, sir, thank you." His laundry started up he takes a step back and sits on the table he'd been using, his legs folded comfortably. He starts patting his pockets for his pen, having completely forgotten that it's behind his ear.

Introductions made, and his Captainly duty done, Kai allows his shoulders to hunch a little lower as he waits for the wash cycle to complete. If he notices the odd fingertapping, he makes no mention of it. Or the pen. He's off in lala land, right up until Nine starts doing handstands on the washing machine. "This is a laundry room, petty officer, not a jungle gym. Sit down before you break your neck, I don't need the paperwork."

Eddie scratches at her hairline, just above her ear to help give Roubani a clue as she seems him searching around for his pen. Because she's got his back like that, yo. She's then plugging her pie hole with another cigarette, lighting it by a silver zippo-style lighter that her thumb rubs over fondly before it's tucked back away.

Castor notices that neither the handshake nor the offer of rum was accepted, "You ear. Check your ear." He says kindly. He then takes a swig of rum. He notices Nine, "Aren't you the acrobat." He says teasingly. He then looks at Eddie, "Morales…aren't you on some of the flight logs." He pauses, "Oh, wow…well sorry. I just finished CAP so maybe I keep missing meeting you." He then adds, "Still though, I'm glad to be here. This is a lively place. Lots of energy."

Clearly today is Cygnus' 'off duty' day, if one is to judge by the thick application of eyeliner ringing his eyes, as well as the way his hair hangs loose to his shoulders, framing his face. A bag full of balled up duty clothes hangs from one shoulder as he steps through the hatch into the laundry. One eyebrow lifts upwards in suprise, suggesting he didn't expect quite such a crowd to be gathered. Noting Kai's presense, he gives a respectful nod which is accompanied by a murmured, "Sir."

Roubani stares at Eddie for a while, bearing a strong resemblance to some kind of monkey. And, appropriately, he lifts a hand and is about to copy the same gesture - this could go on quite a while - when Castor talks. His ears turn red and he 'ahs' under his breath, grabbing the pen from its spot. "Oh, right. Thanks." The discovery of a writing implement seems to brighten his mood quite a bit, and he quickly jots something down on the back of his hand.

"It was either join the navy or join the circus," Nine explains to Leda quietly. "The navy had more shiny things to play with. Even if they made me take out my piercings." She gives the Captain a look like a puppy that's just had its bone taken away, but begins to bend, putting her knees to either side of her head like a regular contortionist.

Kai watches Nine for a few moments more, before the buzzer goes off for his washing, rather loudly. Leaving her to her contortionism, and seeming content that she's at least sort-of-sitting, he goes about dumping the soggy clothing into a dryer.

Castor watches as Cygnus walks in and the 'what the frak' expression creeps up on his face again. Though he remedies this by taking another small swig from the bottle of rum followed by a puff on his cigar. "Well, Nine, I think you made the write choice." He grins as he says, "A viper is a shiny beautiful piece of machinery. Though you know once upon the time I thought about running off to the cricus though I thought flying in a Viper was better than being shot through a cannon." He then watches Eddie and Roubin for a moment and then says, "Anytime." He looks over to the Captain, "So is this the big hangout, sir?"

Eddie pulls her lips into her mouth, rewetting them before tucking her cigarette in the corner to stay while she goes back to her laundry. The dryer is pulled open before the thing fully stops, and so some of her clothes tumble out when the door is yanked. Leaving those be on the floor for a moment, she loads up her arms and carries her load to a folding table, squinting through the haze of smoke that filters up from her cigarette. "Depends on if it was the mud wrestling championship the night before." She mutters around the filter in her mouth, her humor delivered dryly.

Nine unbends into a more congenial arrangement of limbs, sitting atop the washer in a manner more akin to what the Captain would like, half-facing the wall, though. As the conversation goes away from the circus, she just settles in atop the machine, resting a hand cordially on the seam of its lid as she rests her head against the bulkhead.

Cygnus has to wonder what he just walked into. The cloud of smoke hanging in the air from Castor and Eddie suddenly leaves him craving, and before he even begins to worry about his washing, he pats through the pockets of his pants until he comes up with a rather worn looking pack of cigarettes. He's less successful at finding a lighter, and he glances over at Eddie to ask quietly, "You have a lighter I could borrow for a sec," as he pops the smoke in his mouth and holds it pressed between his lips as he searches out an empty machine. There's no art or technique to his laundry tasks, just a simple dump of the bag into the empty machine.
With his laundry switched, and a glance at his watch telling him anything from 'pitstop' to 'raid the snack machines in the lounge', Kai starts winding his way out unobtrusively. The fact that he's tugging out a pack of cigarettes as he reaches the hatch, makes 'smoke break somewhere quiet' the more likely option.

Roubani continues to scribble on his hand. By a few minutes later, all four fingers of his right hand have ink marching down them, and some kind of symbol written on each fingertip. On his palm, the head, heart, and lifelines all have something mathematical winding along the dark brown line. He looks at Eddie as she gets closer, raising one hand and extending two fingers to show her the writing. He flashes a couple more fingers and fingertips in strange combinations, like he's gangsigning at her, then duly breaks any notion of "cool" by saying, "Proof of Lebner's inverse element theorem, all with just one hand." What? He coughs and glances at his washer.
Nine stares at the Bee Sting, mouth slightly open as she gazes mournfully at the most awesome thing she's ever seen.

Castor watches Kai, "Take it easy, sir." He then looks over at Nine, "Were you really thinking of the circus?" He then reaches in his pocket and tosses a zippo to Cygnus, "There ya go. Help yourself to the rum too." He then looks over at Roubeni, "Remind me again, because I was asleep that day in school, what is Lebner's inverse element theorem?"

Eddie smirks at Roubani. "Impressive." Even if she didn't understand a word that just came out of his mouth. But still she seems to be shying away somewhat from the Ensign. She dumps her clothes in a big wad onto the table, then turns at the request from Cygnus. She pulls her lighter back out of the waistband of her pants, but doesn't relinquish it. Rather she makes a quick cross to him, flicks the flint wheel with her thumb, then holds out the flame for him. Either she's terribly polite, or she's just not letting go of that lighter for the life of her. "Here." She grunts, which seems to solidify it's not the former.

Damned physics geeks. Kai ducks out, while he still can.

Kai heads through the exit labeled <H> Hallway.

Roubani does occasionally have to be reminded that the things he does aren't the least bit cool. He turns slightly red as Eddie heads away, clearing his throat and pulling his sleeve down over his head. "It's a converse of the Wilson prime, sir," he says to Castor, sliding off the table. He spots Cygnus for the first time, having been caught up in ink ramblings when the man came in, and gives him a polite nod.
One hand reaches up and snatches the flying lighter out of the air, while Cygnus ducks forward a bit to lean his cigarette into the flame that Eddie's provided. "Thanks," The words are aimed in two directions at once. Turning the lighter in his palm, he reaches out to offer it back to Castor. Cygnus may be a half-pilot, half-priest, eyeliner wearing freak, but the one thing he isn't is a lighter thief. "What is this? Everyone does their laundry day?" He can't help but chuckle at that. The nod is noted, and Mac returns it with a small smile, "Good to see you Ensign."

Nine thinks the hand-maths almost unbearably cool, her innards feeling like they're about to explode from proximity to the awesomes. But all she can do about it is stare, only looking back to Castor after it sinks in that he's saying something to her. "Wha?" she wonders.

Castor says to Roubani first, "Oh, right, I forgot all about Wilson's Prime." His tone doesn't give away if he really does or doesn't know. However, he turns to Cygnus, "No problem." He looks back at Nine, "The circus. Were you seriously thinking of joining the circus?"

Eddie clicks the lighter closed, extinguishing the flame once Cygnus has worked up a cherry. "Right." That must be her version of 'you're welcome'. Stowing it back away, so goes to retrieve the few scraps of clothing that fell on the floor when she pulled out the majority of it. A tank top and some undergarments are snagged, and then she goes back to the folding table to finish her task. "Some people have spin cycles, some people have the converse of the Wilson prime." She comments absently.

Castor clenches his cigar in his mouth as he flips his laundry to the dryer. He then says, "So, you're good with numbers Rouban? Are you an ECO?" He asks as he finishes flipping his laundry. He then leans back and takes another swig from his bottle of rum. He isn't a fast drinker, each one is a rationed sip. He then takes a drag from his cigar.

Cygnus pushes a few buttons on the machine and it whirs to life before he turns around and places his palms flat on the lid. A jump later and he's seated atop it in rather casual manner. A soft, contented sigh drifts out of him as he takes a deep drag on the cigarette, a stream of smoke trailing out of his nose. Head tilting to the side, he sticks out a hand in Castor's direction, "Don't think we've met. Mac. Mac Cygnus. Or Prophet. Whichever," He adds with a shrug. Turning his attention to the engineer sitting on another machine he asks, "How are you doing, Ms Nine?"
Roubani clears his throat again, looking at Eddie as though wondering if he'd slapped her. He glances at his washer's timer and rubs off the symbols across his fingertips. Castor receives a brief smile and he taps the pen against the heel of his hand. "No, sir. Same squadron as you are. I am surprised I hadn't seen you before. Would you kindly excuse me a minute? I'll be back shortly." He holds up his index finger as he indicates this, starting for the hatch.

"It was always sort of an option," Nine replies to Castor. "My cousin and his wife are carnie folk, and they said they'd take me in when I was freaking out about trying to make use of my degree. It doesn't take a doctorate to be bendy in front of people."

Roubani heads through the exit labeled <H> Hallway.

Eddie seems to be wading the clothing more than folding, her back now turned to the room as a whole. As Roubani excuses himself, she gives a glance over her shoulder as if just to mark where he's going. Then she goes back to her task.

Castor takes Cygnus' hand and shakes it, with his free hand he offers a bottle of rum, "Lieutenant, Jr. Grade Castor Leda, Viper jock." He looks up at Roubani, "Sure thing, come on back when you have a chance." He then looks over at Mac, "Did you say, Chaplain?" He takes a moment consider this and says that must be nice." He looks over at Nine, "Well, maybe we can hold a talent show one night…something for morale?" He asks, "Nine, what is your Doctorate in?"

Eddie starts shoving the quasi-folded clothing into her rucksack to take it a back up to berthings, cinching it tight once she's done and slinging it over her shoulder by its heavy grade strap. Her cigarette is pulled from her lips, and it's used to salute the room as a whole in parting before she leaves.

A frown plasters itself across Cygnus' expression and he grunts out, "What, do I have priest tattooed on my forehead or something?" Of course, the more likely answer is that Castor has recognized him from the memorial service he gave the night it was announced the Colonies had been destroyed. "Actually I'm," A pause, "Or I was a pilot." There's an odd sense of certainty to his tone as he adds, "Will be again. Just have to convince the higher ups of that fact."

Eddie heads through the exit labeled <H> Hallway.

"I… didn't stay to get one. It was too hard," Nine presses her lips together with some regret on that point. "But I'm not really… not really big on being up on stage, either," she adds. "I'm not good at much, really. I got a masters in engineering, but… it wasn't really… like that," she tries to explain, before doing a double take at Cygnus, "You're a priest?" She thought he was a pilot.

Castor says to Nine, "Aha engineering. Wow, that is some heavy stuff. So you like building things like ships and all?" He then turns to Cygnus, "Oh, nah, I'm just not much of a religious man is all. Priests tend to make people feel guilty. As for a being a pilot once a pilot always a pilot." He then takes another swig from his bottle of rum and holds it out to his two companions, "Go on have some."

"No, Ms Nine, I'm not a priest. Was just trained as one before I became a pilot. Not ordained. They assigned me to the chaplain's office when they took me off active status." A shrug is levelled in Castor's direction and he takes the offered rum, downing a healthy swig. "Thanks. And don't go feeling guilty on my account. I always hated that."

"I build stuff. Nothing useful, mostly just… toys," Nine admits. "I like making toys," she whispers, then adds, to Cygnus, "Oh."

Castor grins, "Oh don't worry, I won't feel guilty." He then takes the bottle and takes another swig, "I need another drink to check on the condition of the other drinks I took." He then asks, "What kind of toys do you make?" His voice takes on a slightly interested tone.

The turn of conversation reminds Cygnus of Nine's sketch pad and he falls quiet for a moment, choosing instead to inhale as much of his cigarette in one drag as seems humanly possible. "I think I need about ten drinks to check on the condition of that one," Is muttered out under his breath.

Nine looks to the side, cheeks a little red, "All sorts," she replies. "I can show you one, but— you have to promise to be nice to him."

Castor holds the bottle out, "Well, get started. I've got a headstart." He then says, "Him? Sure, what does he do?" His tone is jocular and friendly. He takes a puff on his cigar and then studies Cynus for a moment before noting the red in Nine's cheeks. "Aw, go on, don't be embarassed."

Cygnus takes the offered bottle and knocks back a healthy swig, before returning it again. The liquid feels good as it hits his bloodstream. A brow lifts itself in Nine's direction, because Mac isn't certain just what the aforementioned toy will be. Half of him is left wondering if it's a small Cylon replica, given what he knows about the woman.

Nine unzips a pocket low in her coverall pants, taking out a little silver capsule in which Crucible is safely housed. The entire thing is about two inches long, and she unscrews it as she whispers, "Come on out," to whatever is living within. And soon Crucible's spindly, needle-like forelegs are stretching out of the capsule, and he draws himself out into view on Nine's finger.

Castor turns his head as he studies this, "A mechanical spider?" He says curiously, "I mean…it's not an AI right? It is one of those old VI's right?" His questions are curious and calm not accusatory. "Hey Mac, pass me the bottle would ya." He says holding his arm out while watching the little machine.
Cygnus passes the bottle over once again, his eyes glued on the metal spider. Knowing what he does of Nine's love for machines it doesn't quite surprise him that she's created some sort of robotic spider. "That's an interesting toy you've got there, Ms Nine."

"He. He's a he. His name is Crucible," Nine tells Castor as Crucuble climbs to the tip of her finger and lifts his forelegs and fangs into the air, rearing up and then jumping onto Nine's face, crawling up to tread along the plaited fault lines of her intricately braided hair. "He's very nice to me. Keeps me company."
Balaya pages: Imma shoot mah self

Castor takes a long swig from the bottle and hands it back to Cygnus, "Is Cruicible an AI or a VI?" His eyes never stop watching the spider.

No outward sign of any emotion shows in Cygnus' features though he inwardly flinches a bit as the metallic spider climbs its way up Nine's face. "I'd hope it's VI, all things considered." Another cigarette seems appropriate. Suddenly the machine below Mac buzzes out loudly to announce the finish of its cycle and he nearly jumps a foot high, barely managing to surpress what could have been an embarassingly girly scream.
ooc Btw his tone is still curious

"… Yeah," Nine replies, at length, to Castor and Cygnus, as they press her on the question. "He is," she murmurs quietly. "But don't tell him that," she adds, looking up as she feels Crucible crawling at the back of her head.

Castor nods softly, "Well, a VI is safe enough I suppose." He watches the spider, "I won't tell him though. How long did it take to make him?" He puts out his cigar in a near by ashtray.

Climbing off the washer, Cygnus opens it up to come up with an armful of wet clothing, which he tosses into the nearest free dryer, and starts pushing buttons again. He doesn't climb back up on any of the machines, simply cocks a hip against the door to lean there. Another pat down comes up with the dwindling pack of smokes and he pulls another out and sticks it in his mouth, shooting a questioning glance in Castor's direction, "Mind if I borrow that again?"

"Oh, I put a body together for him when I was back in school. Over a weekend," Nine smiles, "But I didn't sleep that weekend. Or do much of anything else," she relates, laughing a little as Crucible climbs down the back of her shirts. "Eee—ee!" she grins, "That tickles."

Castor offers the lighter freely to Cygnus, "Do you have any other toys?" He asks as he breaks off his visual watch to take a small swig of the rum as Nine begins to laugh. He stands up in equal parts of awe and confusion, "Is he legal?" Again, his tone is curious not accusative or suspicious.

Cygnus clicks the lighter open and inhales deeply, cherishing the feel of the smoke curling down into his lungs. The supply of cigarettes likely won't last much longer. After a moment he passes the lighter back to Castor. An eyebrow arches up into his eyebrow as Nine begins to laughs, "I dunno," He teases mildly, "Seems like a metallic cat might have been more easy to manage."

"I have some," Nine replies fairly enigmatically. "Why shouldn't he be legal?" she asks him, brow furrowing in discontent at the racist nature of the question. Wherever the spider has gone now, she's no longer laughing.

Castor says softly, "Because VI should be okay…but AI is illegal. That is all that I mean to say." His face is as light as his tone, "Besides I wouldn't want to see you thrown in the brig. A mind like yours is good for the ship. I'm sure we will all need your help."

"The man has a good point." Especially now, to Cygnus' mind. The last thing the last bastion of humanity needs in its midst is another AI to potentially go haywire. The lesson they've learned from creating such things has been harsh. "The Cylons are bad enough without us having an AI on the Kharon."

Castor says softly again, "No one is saying it is. I'm just asking questions. He needs you to take care of him and if all he does is crawls around and makes you happy than you have made a wonderful toy and friend. Though please understand that some people are going to be afraid of machines even cute ones."

Blue eyes fix themselves on Nine, "If he's a VI, then there's nothing to worry about Ms Nine." One hand waves a bit in the air, "But I don't think that anyone can deny that the Cylons are worse than a disease. They're a plague. One we created. Taking chances with AI isn't a good bet."

Castor tries again, "And now they've attacked us again. Two wrongs do not make a right." He says softly, "Though right now, lets focus on your creations. So long as they are a VI you are fine. Though AI life of any kind needs to be reported for the safety of us all both human and machine." Castor says attempting to difuse the situation.

"We've debated this before Ms Nine." Cygnus remembers it well. "Cylons may have AI, but they don't have /souls/." Taking a deep drag off of his cigarette, he lifts up the top of the dryer to peer inside, attempting to gauge whether his clothes are anywhere near dry. Though he says nothing else on the subject, defering instead to Castor's attempt to diffuse the situation.
Nine tips her head down and looks down the front of her shirt as Crucible meekly crawls up her meagre allotment of cleavage. She shakes her head toward him. The others just… don't understand them.

Castor looks up at Cygnus as he says that Cylons have no souls and gives a 'seriously debate right now, what the frak', look he then looks back at Nine, "I think you've made something that is amazingly and incredibly creative. Just, be careful okay." His voice is as calm as he can make it. "We need you on this ship and he needs you too." Castor says as he looks at the mechanical spider.

Nine keeps her lips pressed closely together, but she manages a smile to Castor as he acknowledges Crucible like he would a real person, something refreshing enough in Nine's life. But she doesn't say anything, returning her attention to the little spider and seeming to attempt to communicate with him telepathically, tilting her head toward him as if listening.

Castor stands back and looks at his laundry which is now dry. He pulls it out and begins to fold it. He stops for a moment to take a swig from his rum bottle. "So, where can a guy get a drink around here. I'm slightly buzzing and I'm not up for two more shifts."

"There's a lounge around here somewhere and a game room, though I think the machines might only have coffee," Cygnus offers by way of reply, pulling his own clothes out of the dryer. His folding job isn't that accomplished, but he manages. "I keep getting turned around, around here, so I might not be the best person to ask for directions," He chuckles out.
"It's by the next stairwell fore," Nine murmurs, as to the location of the game room. Otherwise, she remains disengaged from the conversation.

Castor finishes folding, "Well, it may be the end of the world but I can get a drink so it's not all bad." He then corks up his bottle puts it with his clean laundry. "Well, I'll be on my way to the bar. Take care." He looks over at Nine, "Both of you." He looks at Cygnus, "And I would like to talk to you…about theology sometime if that would be okay."

Cygnus shoots a grin and nod to Castor. "Hit me up anytime, though I'm kind of avoiding doing the priest thing today, since it's my one day off duty." He knows on some level he's likely offended Ms Nine, which wasn't his intent, but his feelings about the Cylon have always been pretty clear, and unhidden. Once his clothes are neatly placed back in his laundry bag, he nods at a job finished. "I need to take these back to my rack before I think about doing anything else."
Nine keeps her silent council with Crucible.

Castor begins to walk out, "Who said on your day off I was thinking over beer." And with that Castor is gone.

Cygnus chuckles at that as he hefts the bag over his shoulder and heads out the hatch after Castor, "Take care, Ms Nine."

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