Rest Stop
Rest Stop
Summary: Several Resistance and military people grab some rest while they can.
Date: PHD078 (5 Jul 09)
Related Logs: None
Players:
Komnenos..Roubani..Samantha..Dell..Kai..

The barracks are normally not known to have animals and yet, there they are, Dell and Nemo, both sleeping in one of the barracks bunks. This bunk carried the name, "Lee" however Lee is long gone. For the past few days the poor farmer has been trying to deal with everything that has happened and suicidal thoughts have crossed his mind but for now he is alive and asleep. He takes a breath as sleeping people normally do and Nemo rests at the foot of the barracks asleep in her own way.

Thorn, too, is here sleeping after the latest round of escapades into the Cylon-infested wilderness of Scorpia. He's not nearly as restful as the other sleeping forms in the barracks, though; he stirs and suddenly wakes, eyes flicking about madly as he's pulled from whatever dream he was in the middle of. With a sigh, he slowly pulls himself up to a sitting position and lights a cigarette.

Smoke, rolls through the barracks and this wakes up Nemo who looks up and whines softly, as she wines, Dell wakes up. He wakes up and says, "What is it girl? Are the cows out again?" He says not entirely awake as he looks over at Komnenos. His eyes squint for a moment at all of the light and he says, "Oh, um, you're a pilot right?" He then asks, "Are you going to yell at me too?"

Thorn's neck cranes as he looks over for the source of the words. "Why? Should I be yelling?" he asks, flashing a sleepy half-smile that's half confusion, half amusement. He blinks, trying to clear the bleariness out of his eyes, and takes another drag; tendrils of smoke curl lovingly around his head. "ECO, actually. Backseater on a Raptor," he clarifies; the guy's obviously a civilian and might not know all the obscure little military acronyms. "Lieutenant Anton Komnenos, but you can call me Thorn. Most people do."

Nemo simply studies Thorn, she isn't moving, not yet. She won't leave the bed until Dell does after all she knows where her food comes from. Dell takes a moment to say, "Dell Triptolemus, farmer, Scorpia. It is nice to meet you Thorn seeing as how all of the military people I've met so far have yelled at me, well, except for someone named, Thea I think. She seemed nice." he then looks at Thorn, "Eeceeoh? What does that mean?"

Komnenos gets up and begins pacing; his legs are still stiff, but that passes after a little while as the blood begins to flow. "Captain Legacy, you mean? Yah, she's quite something." There's a sudden wistful look in his eyes, but it passes quickly. "Electronic Countermeasures Officer. Basically, I sit in the back seat and run the ship… pilots might say otherwise, but I do more than they do." Another half smile. "I run the sensors, countermeasures, weapons, comms… basically most everything that's not flying the ship," he explains.

Dell listens to everything that Komnenos says, "Oh, she is a Captain then." He then tries to remember if that is better than an eltee or a peeoh. He shakes his head as he looks over at Komnenos, "So, you are sort of the chief person on the ship since you are the eyes and nose of one of your ships?" He then looks at Nemo, "What do you think girl, should we fly in a ship like that?" Nemo simply turns to look at Dell and turns her head softly and curiously as if to say, 'I'm a dog with no conception of space, Dell, duh?'

Komnenos laughs, a short, barking sound. "I wish. More like the underappreciated grunt who does all the work so th' other guy can look good." He shakes his head ruefully; it's hyperbole, but in his opinion, not by a whole lot. Reading DRADIS contacts from the back seat isn't as glorious as flying, after all. His Aerilon accent thickens as he speaks. "I may be th' eyes and ears, but the pilot is still the brain. He controls the hands, the legs, and decides what t' do with th' info the eyes and the ears relate t' him. Besides, my pilot outranks me anyway." His smile fades glumly as he is suddenly reminded of Ivory, still lying unconscious on one of the beds in the bunker's sickbay. "So. You're a farmer, what?" He takes another drag off the cigarette as he turns the conversation to the farmer.

Dell seems a bit confused, "Why would you be underappreciated especially considering how you are the eyes and ears of the ship." He shakes his head as he clearly doesn't understand this because he knows that on the farm the people who spot things first are the people who stop problems from popping up. The accent catches him, "Aerilon." He says warmly, "You are from Aerilon, my family is from there originally, my Dad still has the accent." He then says, "My family came from Aerilon to farm here. My family has been here for three generations, at this point we have been farming for lots of crops and we've been raising animals as well." He smiles proudly, "I went to college and everything to learn all about agriculture. First in my family."

Thorn shrugs. "Underappreciated might be the wrong word, I suppose," he answers finally. "Pilots, though, are always the darlings of th' air wing. Everyone else is at best a close second, no matter how important their job may be. That's just the way things have always been." Another shrug. His eyes meet the farmer's at the mention of Aerilon, nodding at the mention of college. "Good for you. Always thought education was an important thing." One of the few lessons his parents tried to teach him that stuck, incidentally. "Although I didn't do as good a job in following the family traditions as you did." He smiles slightly and spreads his arms out wide. "But I suppose if I did, I wouldn't be here t' talk about it, what?"

"Well, it makes sense doesn't it. I mean pilots are the public face of the air wing." He then considers it all as he thinks of all the publicity and propoganda before he offers, "A pilot once got in a fight with one of our farm hands, called him a yokel and beat him badly." He shakes his head as he looks back at Thorn, "Family tradition, I mean I suppose that is who we are Aerilonians, we are farmers at heart and my family especially, we just changed locations to get a better shot with less competition." He chuckles softly as he says in a Scorpian accent but with an Aerilonian mindset, "And after all we have to stick to what we know." He then looks at Nemo, "And what you and I know is farming and what Thorn knows is listening to things in space." Nemo looks back at Dell and simply turns her head as if to say, 'See you keep talking but I'm a dog and I don't understand you.'

"That's the problem with pilots, sometimes," Thorn nods sagely as Dell relates the story of his farmhand. "Aircrew are told so many times how special they are, some of them take it too far. The dumb ones, anyway. The ones with a lick of sense, at least, manage t' keep themselves in check." Thorn tries to imagine Ivory swaggering around and beating up farmhands, and fails hilariously. "Well, that decision t' move here is probably looking pretty smart now," he adds with a chuckle. "My family wasn't much for farming — we were probably the only family on Aerilon with our means that didn't own farmland — but we had traditions of our own. We, too, stuck with what we knew. Hell, even I was sucked into it for a while, until I joined the Fleet."

Dell simply listens, after all, it is what farmers do, they listen to the land, the wind, everything around them and when Thorn is done he says, "Well, from what I can see here the Marines are calling the shots. I'm not sure if that is normal but it is what I have seen." he chuckles softly along with Thorns joke, "Well, I am alive and I hope my family is as well." He asks curiously, "What did your family do?" As he now sits up fully in bed which causes Nemo to shift her weight and stand up on the bed to pad over to Dell so she can stay near the warmth.

"Well, it's not usually normal, no, but stuff like this is what the Marines are trained t' handle," Thorn explains. "The rest of us are a little out of our element, here. We're pilots with no ships to fly," he adds with a grimace. There's a long stub of ash hanging off of Thorn's suddenly forgotten cigarette; he flicks it off and takes another drag. "Most of my family were academics; the Komnenoi have been a fixture of Aerilon education for generations," he continues matter-of-factly in response to the farmer's question. "Most of us end up as teachers, although some go on t' work in their chosen field. My parents were both professors, and I got as far as a master's degree in computer science before I joined the Fleet," he finishes with a hint of pride now in his voice.

Dell consider all of this, "Computer science, huh?" He asks curiously, from what he knows about the mater firma computers weren't an important part of society and yet here on Scorpia things are different. Finally he says, "Well, I suppose we all have to know something and your computer skills might come in handy I mean who knows maybe you could reprogram a cylon or something and save us all." He offers with a smile as he begins to gently pet Nemo. He then says, "Though I think all of us are out of our element here."

"Had t' go off planet t' find a good program, of course," Thorn adds. "You know how most Aerilons are about computers," he says with a chuckle. "Studied on Caprica and Gemenon." A pause. "Well, I've done a little bit, but we've got a couple engineers with us that are doing most of the tech work. I've been working more closely with the rifle and armor set since I got here, it seems." He takes another drag off his cigarette, and laughs softly as he exhales. "Reprogram a Cylon, eh? That'd be the day. Don't even know if it's possible… but who knows, could be fun t' try." He smiles mirthfully. "And yeah, it's not like many of us here actually trained t' survive a nuclear holocaust."

Dell looks at thorn for a minute, "Wait, you got off of Aerilon? I mean I haven't even been off of Scorpia, ever." He considers all of this new information as he says next, "What was Caprica like? No, wait, what was Gemenon like?" His voice takes on a certain curious tone, it would seem that the farmboy wanted to see the Colonies. He says, "And why couldn't we reprogram a Cylon, after all, it is a machine right and all machines can be reprogrammed." Nemo finally finds a spot to nestle beside Dell on this tiny barracks bed, she is praying to her doggie god that there could be more space on this thing, that is if dogs had a religion which they don't and so she simply pants softly watching Dell.

Samantha steps… no… -limps- into the room quietly, just in her ripped and very bloodied old tanks and sweat pants now, her flight suit having been pulled off her as soon as she was getting half good medical care. She's still got a bit of that ashen look of a woman out in the radiation too long, but bandaged up and moving, she seems as if she might actually be on the road to recovery. Got lucky out there. Damned lucky. She lofts a brow as she hears something about Gemenon, a low, tiredly husky laugh on her lips…"Gemenon is a shit hole….full of crazies and fanatics, trust me."

"Well, the people were nuts, but the skydiving was great," Komnenos answers with a grin. "It was a little conservative for my taste, but the Kobol Colleges have always been first rate." Another puff, and the cigarette's done. He stamps it out into a handy ashtray before continuing. "It's probably possible; reprogramming a Cylon, I mean — " He clarifies as he changes the subject. " — but I'm betting that everyone who actually knows about their programming is dead now." He's interrupted by the voice of the newcomer. His head whirls around in surprise as he recognizes the voice. "Sam! You're up!" he exclaims, somewhat unnecessarily.

Dell looks up as Sam speaks, well, a new face here and that means something. He then looks back at Komnenos, "Friend of yours I take it?" He says softly as he looks back at Nemo, "Girl, this is a strange position to be in, after all, only days ago we were hunting, now the world has ended and the military inherited the land. This is not what scripture says, it says the meek were supposed to inherit things." He looks at Sam as she is bruised and beaten up and then to Komnenos before looking back at his mutt of a dog sitting with him on his bed, "Yeah, this isn't what the Lords said would happen."

Having been up since the crack of dawn, or what passes for it in this fortified sanctuary in the midst of irradiated destruction, Kai's spent most of the morning catching up on the status of things with Legacy. He's returned, probably, to fetch something from his pack. Though the sight of a dog curled up on someone's bunk raises a brow slightly. It's not a particularly disapproving brow.

Another believer, hm? Samantha looks over to Dell, thoughtful for a quiet moment and, strangely, not taking the opportunity to slag on religion… at least not again. She is moving a bit slowly, limping on her right leg, but she's moving at least, enough to head over to a bed near where the boys are sitting and perch in on the side there. "If either of you has a cigarette, I'll love you forever. Though some people might consider that a threat." She states with a wiry little smile from pale lips. She pushes one hand back through her blonde hair… a little bit more of it coming out in her hand every time. She tosses the strands away, swearing lightly as she settles in on the bed. "Who's yer friend, Thorn? He looks corruptable."

Roubani is close behind Kai, though having come from a different area deep in the bunker. He skirts past Kai and whoever else at the door with a murmured "Excuse me," that's kneejerk politeness rather than trying to get attention, and heads for the toolkit left sitting against the wall.

Wordlessly, Komnenos tosses a cigarette over to Samantha. "Lieutenant Passi, Dell Triptolemus, and vice versa." Thorn hands out introductions, finding it odd that he's the social coordinator for once. When it comes to the talk of scripture, though, he stays out of it. He's gotten into too many arguments over the years to enjoy theology as a subject of discussion.

As it turns out, Spider was here for a cigarette, too. After some rustling about, he slides his pack out— and is about to toss Samantha one, when Thorn takes care of it for him. "You're looking a bit brighter eyed and bushy tailed," is commented quietly. His eyes remain on the woman for a while before he shoves his bag back onto his bunk, and slides the pack of smokes into a pocket. And then he's off again, probably to swing by medical, and check on Timon and Salazar.

Dell looks at Samantha for a moment, "Oh, you are what they call an L-Tee." He says proudly, though perhaps a bit off but he adds, "Pleasure to meet you Ma'am but you should know I'm not corruptable, I don't smoke and while my family might be from Aerilon I rarely drink." He then looks over at Roubani, "Another person…you soldiers really have taken over." He then asks, "So what is the plan to take back Scorpia?" He says hopefully.

Samantha smiles. A full on, earnest smile, despite falling out hair and being stranded on this backwater planet. She accepts the cigarette from Ivory, "I could kiss you." She admits before slipping the filter between her lips and leans over for a light. Dammit, that hurts. She hisses a bit as broken ribs shift, gently changing her position and stealing the lighter instead so she can start the cherry going…"Frakking… ribs.." She breathes out a few moments later before looking back to Dell and laughing softly, "I think that is the definition of corruptable, kid. As in not already corrupted. Stick around with us pilots fer a while, and you'll learn. And you can call me Case. Lieutenant Passi sounds so damned… stuffy."

Roubani settles down kneeling at the toolkit. He picks through it mainly with his left hand, his right arm stiff and in a state of rebellion after the hard push of activity yesterday. There's a glance back at Dell with reserved eyes, then he goes back to what he was doing. "Be out of your hair in a few."

Thorn removes another cigarette for himself and lights it. He's starting to run low; will have to go out scrounging later. "You're not in anyone's hair, Poet. Stick around if you'd like," Thorn replies to the ensign mildly. Then, a slightly worried look back towards Dell. "I'm not sure there is one, t' be honest. We came here for supplies, we didn't expect to find anyone else. Or at least, I didn't," he says quietly. "Besides, one escort carrier hardly is enough to liberate a planet from the Cylons. We'll be lucky for the ship just t' be able t' stick around long enough to get our people — and anyone that decides to come with, I'm assuming — off the planet." Thorn shrugs helplessly. "I'm sure that's not what you wanted t' hear, but I don't see any other alternative, given our situation."

Dell looks over at Samantha before he says, "I'm a farmer, you think I haven't seen things before?" He says with a sort of knowing grin, "I've seen farm hands and the depraved things they do." He then adds, "And sometimes that is okay, it lets off steam." He smiles as he looks at Nemo, "Now I know what it feels like to be the only normal person in a room full of superheroes, all these people to save me and I'm the only one to be saved in this room." Nemo turns her head as she studies Dell as if to say in her doggy way, 'Human, please, you are as whitebread as they come.' However, she can't speak and so she simply lets off a muffled -woof-. Dell looks over at Thorn for a moment and then to Roubani, "Who is this one, is he an L-Tee or Peeoh?" He asks both Roubani and Komnenos because he is a bit confused by all this military chatter.

Samantha looks over to Roubani, giving him a half smile, "Stay, Poet…keep us company. I know you. You've been workin' yer ass off, worrying over all of this like yer some mother bird, and drivin yourself sick with lacking success. So siddown, take five, and take a breath. I…uh… wanna talk to ya sometime…anyway…" Sam murmurs through a few breaths of her cigarette, half sinking down onto her left side, not exactly laying there but she's definitely doing her best to be relaxed. She offers her free hand over in Dell's dog's direction, curious to see if the thing is friendly.

Roubani settles back on his heels, laying two screwdrivers by his leg. Twisting his shoulder slowly, he looks again at Dell, somewhat cautiously. "Ensign." The tall young man has a soft-spoken voice, one that shouldn't really carry but somehow does. He fiddles with a tool in his hand rather than get up, nodding once to Samantha. it's a careful nod, one not sure if 'talk to you' means 'talk to you' or 'yell at you'. "Yes, sir."

Thorn sighs. "This isn't an inquisition, Poet, you can take it easy a bit. I don't think either of us will care if you drop the 'sirs' for a little while." He slumps back down on his rack, leaning on his side and smoking thoughtfully. A hand runs through his hair reflexively; he winces as he accidently brushes a scar with his hand.

Nemo would appear to be a highly trained dog as she doesn't make noise unless Dell speaks to her and she stays close beside the man so she isn't on the offensive for now. Dell studies Roubani for a moment before he asks, "Is Ensign above an L-Tee or a Peeoh?" He then looks down at Nemo, "Seriously, why can't they yse numbers because that would have been so much better. Like one being the highest and three hundred being the lowest?" Nemo for her part looks up at Dell giving a 'what the hell do I know I'm just a dog look'. Dell then looks over at Komnenos giving a confused look, "Poet? Is someone else in the room?" He look around a bit confused looking for this Poet.

Samantha nods in agreement to Thorn's words, "I'd appreciate it, really… Case or Sam, we're frakking off duty, right? And don't look like I'm gonna yell at you 'cause I ain't… no reason too. Just… wanted to…" Her eyes fall to those prayer beads for a moment, thoughtful, but then Case actually loses courage and shakes her head. "Never mind. Wouldn't wanna keep you from things you'd rather do." And then she looks over to Nemo…"Ensign is somewhat below LT, but Roubani here is long over due a promotion. And Poet is his callsign, he's a pilot on medical leave, hidin' with the geeks and nerds."

"It's…" Roubani scratches his bandaged hand through his hair as he regards Dell. "…first officer rank. Below the Lieutenants." The explanation isn't given patronizingly. It's just given. He looks back at Sam just in time to catch the look to the prayer beads, which gives him pause. "Perhaps this evening?" he offers to her, a little more quietly. "How are you feeling?"

Thorn sighs. Civilians and ensigns, a combination sure to delight the heart of any junior officer. He watches the interplay between Sam and Roubani with an occasional glance back at Dell, but is quiet for the moment. More smoke spills from his mouth. He pulls his multitool out of a pocket and idly begins toying with the attachments.

"Oh, okay, so it goes Peeoh, Ensign, L-tee." He says pleased with himself because after all he knows he doesn't know much about the military but he is a quick learner. He then looks over between Sam and Roubani before he offfer tos Sam, "Case, are you one of the Lords children?" His question is innocent as are his tones. He then looks back to Roubani, "Thank you for your explanation Mr. Poet or is that Ensign Poet?"

Samantha really wasn't expecting -that- question from the young, innocent looking Civvie. It's like he was one of those travelling Gemenese knocking on some guy's door, handing out pamphlets. Where as about two weeks ago she would have told Dell to shove it, she hesitates now. She finally just shakes her head. "No, no, kids… Lords and I don't much get along at all. Came from a crazy gemenese family and… well, they taught me all the bad about religion. Then you watch a priest hang himself and… well… I got a few harsh words for the Lords of Kobol if I ever meet them." But her heart isn't behind her voice. They're just rote words. There might even be doubt there… doubting her own disbelief. She leans back against the pillow of the bed she's taken, smoking to the ceiling. her eyes flicker to Roubani and she nods, "sure, Poet… this evenin' would… would just be fine. Maybe they'll let me take a patrol with ya."

Roubani makes absolutely no comment on Dell and Samantha's discussion. He rarely interjects into these kinds of things, even if he is the one in the room wearing beads. A nod to Samantha, even a vague half-smile. "Maybe." Yeah, right. "If not, perhaps we might eat together." He leaves it there, digging through the toolbox again until he finds a wrench, checking the size. Then to Dell, murmured: "Just Poet, if you wish to use the callsign. Ensign Roubani if not. And please pardon my rudeness, I don't believe I know your name."

Thorn watches Sam as she speaks; her response is much more subdued than what he would have expected from the fiery Viper pilot. Then again, she looks rather drained to begin with. Finally, he interjects, if only to break back into the conversation. "Was never much for religion, myself. When you come from a family who lives for reason and practicality, it gets a little hard t' place blind faith in nebulous beings who may or may not exist." He speaks quietly, expressing his beliefs but not trying to provoke a fight.

"Dell Triptolemus, I'm a farmer here on Scorpia, well one of a family of farmers who may or may not be dead." He then frowns, "Though I would really like to check and make sure my family is alive." He then looks down at Nemo, "They are okay, girl." He says to himself because he knows Nemo doesn't understand. He then says, "It is a pleasure to meet you Poet." He still isn't sure of the right thing to say and so he looks over at the other pilots. He looks at Thorn, "Seriously, I mean, that is part of who we are, deeply religious people." He says too Thorn. "We should raise our spirits up to the Lords and ask for help and forgiveness."

Samantha is, despite her subdued nature on religion now, looking increasingly comfortable with this conversation. She takes one last breath of her cigarette before nearly burning her fingertips on the filter. She rolls over on her stomach and puts it out on the ground before just staying stretched out that way on the bed. It was almost more comfortable than her side, almost. She gives a brief glance to Roubani, "Sure, Poet…patrol or meal, sounds good to me. We… we'll talk." She leaves it there, eyes flickering back to the two. "The Lords haven't helped us yet, kid. In fact, I'd say they've pretty much frakked us 10 ways to sunday. So, I'd say we start working on fending for ourselves and be happy that we can survive on our own merits." But she almost looks uncomfortable saying that. Damn miracles. She sighs and settles her head away from the group, apparently going to try sleeping…

Roubani exhales quietly. "The gods provide. If we wait for miracles before we give them thanks we will miss the true signs of their presence. Our own heartbeats. The sun rising. We would do well to stop demanding of them and realise favour is earned through action." He keeps his shoulder to the group as he says this, and his voice down. Thorn's comment about faith attracts his attention but he's cautious about addressing it. The wrench is tightened, the nut spun between his fingers.

"It may be who you are, but that's never been who I am," Thorn replies tersely. His tone has hardened, but there's no anger or recrimination there; at least, none directed at Dell specifically. He's never been one to impinge on the beliefs of another, but he's a bit touchy when others start getting preachy. "By all means, if you want t' pray, I won't stop you, just don't expect me t' join you. I've done fine for myself, and I haven't done anything t' need their forgiveness." He stands, stamping his cigarette out on the floor. "Now, I'm going t' go get my bandage changed and find something t' eat." Thorn starts walking towards the exit of the barracks. "Nice t' meet you, though, Dell. Rest easy, Case," he adds on his way out.

Dellgets out of bed and looks at Nemo, "Come on girl, we've got Guard duty, someone has to watch all of these militry types." And with that the pair are gone.

Sam pauses, looking back up to Roubani, about to snap something… but then she just watches his eyes and sighs. "We… we'll talk after. Already planned. See you then… And thanks, Thorn. Enjoy the food. Rations taste like ambrosia when ya haven't eaten in a few days, trust me." She states with a sardonic little chuckle before she does settle down into the bed. She's been sleeping a lot since she's been back. Maybe there's an infection hiding somewhere, or possibly she's just in that much pain/shock from it all… nothing like Samantha Passi used to be, but they've all changed for the experience.

Roubani doesn't shirk back from Samantha's look. Surely he's seen it a million times in his life. "Rest, sir. Be well." There's no ire in his tone. They might as well have just been discussing pyramid. He starts to roll to his feet, careful of his back. "Lieutenant?" That's aimed towards the departing Thorn at the door.

"If rations are that good, think about what mess hall food will taste like when we get back," replies Thorn lightly to Sam on his way out. To Roubani, Thorn nods. "See y' later, Poet," he responds to the younger man, before the question in Roubani's tone stops him. "I was serious before, y' know. You could try 'Thorn' every so often. It's not hard t' say… and the 'Lieutenants' and 'sirs' get stifling after a while." A pause. "What is it, then?" He waits expectantly by the door.

Roubani rubs his forehead as he's directed away from the formality again. "You are very hard to read," he comments tiredly. "Thorn, then." He slides the screwdrivers and wrench onto his toolbelt. "Are you alright?"

Thorn can't help but chuckle. "I'm hard t' read?" He grins self-consciously. "Look in the mirror sometime… or at the CAG. Marek is Mr. Inscrutable if ever there was one." His tone is teasing, but there's no malice in his words, only gentle ribbing. Thorn's mirth fades, though, as he hears Roubani's question. "Yeah, I'm doing alright, all things considered." He cocks his head, curious. "Why d' you ask?"

The comment about Roubani's quasi-hypocrisy goes ignored. He rubs his right upper arm with his left hand. "Because it isn't asked enough. You've had a lot on you lately."

"Me?" Komnenos starts in surprise. "Perhaps so, but not any more than the rest of us. Spider and Case had t' fend for themselves for days. Captain Legacy's had her hands full, and those bloody Marines can't seem t' stop getting shot. Hell, you've had more on your plate since we've gotten here than I have, with all the tech work we keep dumping on your head." Thorn shakes his head ruefully. "Given everything that's happened, I've been lucky. Not that I don't appreciate the concern, but I don't know that it's necessary."

"I suppose," Roubani answers, his tone and volume never changing. "Though sometimes feeling we shouldn't take fortune for granted makes the time of it even harder." and with that he abruptly leaves it alone, glancing at the doorway. "I looked at the communications bunker last night. Have you been?"

"If there's something on your mind, Poet, don't hesitate t' speak up," Thorn says, noting something in the man's voice, even if nothing outwardly changed. "We're not exactly on duty here." He purses his lips at the mention of the communication bunker. "Now that you mention it, no, and I probably should go and see if there's anything I can do t' help." Komnenos shrugs. "Haven't spent a lot of time down here, with all of our excursions and everything. What time I've had down here seems t' have been split between sickbay, my rack, and the messhall."

Roubani shakes his head to the question of something on his mind. Which there probably is, knowing him, but the rest of this takes precedence. "Were you going to eat? I suppose I should do the same. I can show you what I have on the units right now."

"Yeah, actually," Thorn replies. "And yes, you should." He nods again at the mention of the units. "Sounds good… we'll make it a working lunch, then."

Roubani gives Thorn a faint smile. It kind of pulls the corners of his mouth back rather than up, not remotely touching his eyes. "Thank you." He starts for the door, already unclipping his handheld from his belt.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License