Warm Hearth - Hestia
Warm Hearth - Hestia
Summary: The Hestia brass visits after the Solon II action.
Date: PH225 (29 Nov 2009)
Related Logs: Warm Hearth logs

CEC Kharon, Hangar Deck, Hangar Bay 1

IC Time: Post Holocaust Day #225
OOC Time: Sun Nov 29 21:08:13 2009

There's activity here at almost every hour of the day. Impact guns can be heard with their shrieking rumble while crew call back and forth, their voices carrying just above the din of the work here. What's readily apparent is that this is the main Hangar Bay for the Vipers, the distance going back further than the other two Bays which are separated by thick, hydraulically rolled blast doors. On each side of the room, near the Fore end, six Viper tubes are ready for quick deployment of the Kharon's Viper squadron. Lining the rest of Hangar Bay One, each Mark Two and Mark Seven has its own place to be kept with a small red toolchest that holds the minimum of required equipment for quick maintenance.

Along the floor, each individual Viper bay is painted off with a single hashed yellow and black stripe. A deep red line denotes important electrical conduits and access ports just below the deck while a bright blue line follows up walls and across the floor to tell where the Tylium lines run in case of fire. Outlets along the wall for the fuel as well as corrugated rubber piping stand ready for use, fluorescent yellow firefighting gear kept in plain sight for easy access nearby.

Martin quiets, turning to watch the gurneys coming in. Pressing his hand to the side of his headset, the mic is up and off, letting him speak without doing so over the line. "They're coming in now." He says, glancing to Alyssa and Jacobs as he does so. Then something strange happens as Martin turns to watch Roubani, attempting to strike up a silent conversation.

[Intercom] Neha says, "Attention Medical: A gurney is needed in the Hangar Bay for one incoming head trauma, as is cold storage for 3. A chaplain is also requested. I say again: gurney, chaplain, and cold storage for 3 needed in Hangar Bay."

Martin has maintained a presence at the rear of the Hangar, helping prep the flight line with the deck crew. Currently resting on crutches, it appears that he's found his way out of his coveralls and into duty blues for the incoming visitors. Also in the back are Jacobs and Alyssa, who have arrived with gurneys and orderlies to help them take on the wounded.

Alyssa looks up as the monitors indicate landing Raptors. Fun. She glances over at Jacobs. "Ok… time to get to work."

Roubani's dark eyes stay on Martin for a while, though they're tough to read. Though after that extended few seconds, he half-smiles at the man and then looks up as elevators begin bringing down Raptors.

[Foxbat-4: Matto] Foxbat-4's lowered into place, and only moments later the hatch is opened and lowered into its ramp position to let the medical types in and the Marines out.

Jacobs blinks, "Chaplain?" He says, watching the Raptors come down from their elevators and he not-so-idly wonders who's dead. He points to two of the bigger, stronger looking orderlies. "You two, get the deceased one, the doc and I will take care of the most injured. Remember, tourniquet and move on…"

[STC] (from Nike) An unfamiliar pilot's voice sounds over the comms, "Kharon, this is Raptor one one five niner from Hestia requesting clearance to land, over."

With the arrival of the Raptors, Damon steps out and lets his heavy machine gun hang. Untouched and unharmed, he keeps his cold eyes forward as he makes his way down the ramp and onto the deck. The short hop results in the clap of his boots sounding. Quickly moving out of the way so that the incoming can be taken, he moves to the rear wall to allow himself to be present for the incoming Hestia visitors.

Kellin's SMI is slung in it's combat sling as he exits the Raptor he's been on. Making his way down the ramp to join the other Marines returning from the Plane below. "What is needed is a good smoke right now, fitting after a good fight"

Leda steps down from his Wolf-8 since she took a ding or two out there he looks at the deck gang and he says, "Take care of her for me, please." He then begins to look around the room at everyone coming off and he isn't sure who went in so he takes time to watch every body come out. He looks over at Matto and Sparro and throws a thumbs up for a mission accomplished.

Alyssa rushes forward as the Raptors are being unloaded. "Ok, someone give me the short version of who I can help. Save details on those who can't for the coroner."

Dover is a little over excited. "Here! Here. Here." He points to the downed Pickens, who's rocking some pretty serious head trauma. The marine is in need of a transport and immediate checks for brain activity. A round is lodged in the armor of his helmet. He bleeds freely, indicating at least partial penetration.

[STC] Neha says, "Raptor-159, this is Kharon. You are cleared to land in the starboard hangar bay. A greeting party is there to meet you. Enjoy your stay."

Following the other Marines off the raptor, Cinder comes jumping out, fortuitously unhurt this time. She's a little dirty and sweaty, but still has a bit of her shift on ship to work. Sliding her helmet off, she pull the bun out of her hair and shakes it out long enough to catch a slight breather. The helmet dangles by the straps in one hand, and her rifle is up on her shoulder, all safetied and everything. With medical in sight, she decided not to be a bother, and heads out from the hangar bay to go back to action stations.

Finally, the Raptors are lowered to the deck by the groaning elevators, and Foxbat-8's hatch slides open. First, the wounded Pickens is pulled off by the medics, followed by the still-under-their-own-power Marines. Finally, after he and Sparro finish post-flight, Thorn comes down from the Raptor as well. After a questioning glance at the intercom, Komnenos, too, finds his way to the back of the hangar deck, out of the way. The dreadlocked Marine standing nearby gets a terse nod as Thorn leans against the wall, arms crossed and a curious expression on his face.

Dell looks over at Kellin and he has his armor on and his rifle in his hand and he nods his head, "Sorry, sir, I don't smoke." He looks over at Alyssa for a moment as she moves in, everyone has a job on this ship and the private is starting to learn this. He sniffs the air as if he is taking in all of the smell of the hangar bay. He looks over at Kellin, "Is it always like this?"

Roubani unfolds his arms from their tense position over his chest, instead folding hands behind him at the small of his back. The corners of his eyes slowly lose some of their fine lines as his face relaxes every so slightly, watching and waiting.

It's a good thing marblacks are, well, black. Even dealing just with the wounded has gotten Pandorian's clothing good and sotted; it's going to take some careful scrubbing with a variety of brushes to get the last of the blood out of his web gear after it dries. "There's uh… somebody…" he grunts wearily, gesturing vaguely off to his left. That might not even be where the wounded are at. The Marine just follows behind Cinder, rifle still held ready (though safed).

Alyssa moves to the side of the injured Pickens and gestures Jacobs over. "Pulse is a little weak… dammit… check his primary vitals, then we should get him straight to medbay. I don't want to take that damned helmet off until we have all of our tools with us. Is anyone else badly hurt? Hello? Speak up!"

Kellin grins at Dell then shrugs "Not always, sometimes we have more heading for Sickbay to get patched back up. Other times we debrief then hit the showers, sometime we resupply and go back out again"

Barnabas is out of Foxbat-4 not soon after touching down, albeit after the healthy and the wounded are gone. Moving carefully, he assists with the unloading of one not-so-lucky Hestia marine. Well, it's partially the unloading that warrants careful movement, but the fact that his cargo pants from the knees down are using blood to soak tightly against his legs doesn't help much. What? It feels icky. The only reasons his face isn't scrunching are being worryingly used to such a thing, and that it's probably not the best idea to look disgusted while assisting with the task of getting a lifeless marine where it's got to go. Faux-pas, or something.

Martin keeps his position near the main entrance to the hangar, leaning forward against his crutches and letting his injured right leg rest. He's dressed in his duty blues and has let his headset that he's used to coordinate with the rest of the Air Wing rest against a catch on his belt. Watching the wounded unload, he takes a deep breath, anticipating the arrival of friendlies.

Jacobs is one of the first to move towards Pickens, beckoning someone with a gurney to follow him. Together, he and the orderly hoist the man up onto said gurney and Jacobs seems to simply…fall into his zone. He pulls his light from his satchel and shines it into his eyes. "Brain's ticking. I think we should toss the helmet and get a dressing to stop that bleeding."

Matto waits until the only people left on his boat are those who left their lives somewhere in the yellow dust of Solon II, lurking in the hatchway as the marines sort out the wounded with the medics. He looks briefly to Alyssa, but shakes his head; the only people left up his way don't need her help.

Absalom walks in to the Hangar, straightening his blues a bit and frowning down at them. He finishes with whatever it is he's doing, and then catches sight of the wounded being unloaded. The man frowns a bit, and walks in the dierction of Martin, "What we got out there?" he asks in a low tone.

Roubani remains quite still, not having strayed far from his Viper. It's a reflex on condition one. He hasn't relaxed all the way either, even with the announcement of "friendlies" coming aboard. That, too, is reflex.

Dell doesn't smile but he grunts approvingly to Kellin as he watches the seargent get tended too as waits to see if he will be going back out or defriefing. He rolls his neck to produce a pop as he just watches and waits since this is new to him all of it. Organizaed people who all know what to do and all of them are moving around like some sort of colony of bees. Bzz bzz.

"Hang on," Alyssa says, examining the wound. "If he still has something working upstairs…" She closely examines the wound, just to make sure the bullet is lodged in the helmet, as opposed to the head.

While Kharon's raptors are busy offloading marines and injured crew members, there's a roar of landing thrusters from the direction of the flight deck, as another of the boxy crafts comes in for a landing. It's hauled up to the main hangar bay via one of the aircraft elevators, and hooked up for a tow out to the main throughfare. It's obvious, as it rolls up, that it doesn't belong to this ship; the faceplate is unfamiliar, as is the callsign stenciled just beneath the cockpit window. A few deck crew bellow for people to get out of the way who aren't medical or injured.

Thorn watches from the sidelines as the medics pull off the wounded form of Pickens from his ship. Being that the enlisted marine was the only wounded man on Fox-8, he keeps silent at Alyssa's question. There's some blood streaked on his flight suit, but none of it's his; probably the aforementioned, luckless Pickens'. He almost starts digging for a cigarette before he realizes 1)where he is and 2) that there are, like, VIPs or something coming aboard. Nevertheless, he makes no attempt to clean, straighten, or square away said flightsuit. Hey, those boys on the battlestar have probably seen their fair share of blood, right?

Roubani's eyes stay trained on the new Raptor, the one that doesn't quite belong. One of these Raptors is not like the others. His shoulders tense slightly, hands staying in their formal posture clapsed behind him, elbows slightly out.

Matto retreats back into Foxbat-4's cockpit, getting out of everyone's way and getting out of his helmet, despairingly needing some semblance of fresh air before he's sick. Of course, the 'fresh air' in the Raptor right now smells of death and blood, so it doesn't help all that much. He gets out of his gloves and unzips the front of his suit, reaching into the front inside pocket for a gummy bear. Dearly needed. he watches the other Raptor through the front screen. Hi, Other Raptor.

It's almost as if aliens have landed, the way that Martin watches the unfamiliar Raptor lower down the elevator. Internally cursing the need for his crutches, Martin lowers his head and checks himself over to ensure that his duty uniform is in its right place. Planting the nose of the crutches down, he steps closer to present himself as a part of the waiting staff to greet their new allies.

Praxis heads up the stairs onto the hangar bay, and once on the deck plating he is moving at a fairly fast pace in order to catch up with the unfamiliar Raptor on the other side of the bay. He's not about to interfere with the offload of personnel from the Raptors or the medical process, but he intends to greet whoever comes down the ramp of that raptor. To anyone standing anywhere near the landing site of Hestia's craft, the XO quickly directs them to form a line and bellows, "Attention!" Moving in front of that line, Demitros stands up straight and waits for the ramp to come down.

Absalom jogs a little to get into position, and then snaps to attention. At the silence from Martin he gives the man a bit of an odd look, but, can't really talk when at attention. So, he just stands there, glancing at the newly arrived Raptor.

Clearly having accompanied the XO out of CIC, the CAG comes to a halt a few paces behind and to the man's left. He straightens his shoulders, eyes up, when attention's called for. Any pilots not obeying that order are going to get the evil eye from him.

Content that the helmet is safe to remove, Alyssa glares at the call to attention and promptly ignores it, moving the patient onto the gurney and then climbing on with him, applying pressure to the wound immediatly after removing it. "Get us down to medbay, now, on my authority," she says to the orderlies.

Kellin snaps to attention at the command, his form perfect like he's just out of AIT.

Medical teams. Medical teams are good. And so it comes to pass that the psyche is one of the medical folks who finds her way to the Hangar Bay. Aly comes jogging in, then pulls into a salute as Attention is called.

Thorn is finding his way over to the landing site as well, a curious and practiced eye fixed upon the unfamiliar Raptor. His head whirls around with a surprised start as Praxis forms an impromptu reception, but he allows himself to be herded into a line, bloody flightsuit and all. Even as he snaps to attention, there's the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips. Should be a nice image for the Hestia folks.

The bellows from deck crew and engine noise cause a double-time reaction in Volker, making sure his precious carg-corpse is taken away for temporary storage well before the new Raptor has a chance to touch down. With the task complete, his rifle is pulled back across to rest slung against his chest as the attention call rings out. The change is immediate, with the Sergeant's demeanour becoming far more alert as he steps-to, snapping into place in the line without a sound.

Planting himself in the line, Martin hobbles the last few steps and collects his crutches under his arms. Turning to see Mimieux and Absalom near, he snaps his head forward and goes as straight as he can with the crutches under his arms. He's a wounded soldier, but he's a sign of respect of the Kharon for the newcomers.

Dell snaps to attention since he has been in boot camp and the word makes him move quickly since he really doesn't want to drop and do push ups.

Having finished his post flight, Sparro climbs out of Foxbat-8 and comes to attention as ordered. His eyes are narrow, however. He doesn't like this.

Roubani's feet shift in well-practiced unison with the rest of the bay's as Praxis calls attention. Snap, back straight, chin up, eyes forward, salute. The routine is almost comforting.

Damon, near the door to the hangar, goes straight as an arrow and allows his weapon to hang over his shoulder on its harness. Boots clapping together, the prisoner-turned-marine snaps a salute.

After a few moments, there's a hiss as the hatch is depressurised, and drifts open with a grind of hydraulics. Once it's down, the sounds of movement can be heard from within. The first three people out are marines in full combat gear, rifles at the ready. One hops down and steps to the left, the next moves immediately to the right, and the third does a quick visual check of the 'bay before slotting in directly opposite the hatch and doing an about face. His boots come together sharply, and a shout goes up to signify that the area's clear.

For Jacobs, it's like Attention was never called. As soon as Alyssa has given the order to get down to the medbay, he's rushing in front of the gurney pushing folks aside to clear the way as the orderlies push it. "Move! Move! Out of our way, Godsdammit!" Marine privates especially get the treatment, complete with disparaging glances.

Leda looks over at Praxis and when the command is given to stand at attention he does so helmet tucked beteen his left arm and a salute with right. His eyes then follow after Praxis because he isn't sure what is about to happen next and the XO going all well XO has him looking as concerned as he can while standing at attention.

Komnenos' ghost of a smile quickly fades as the new Raptor's hatch opens to disgorge a trio of Marines. He somehow manages to resist the temptation to look over and examine the arriving party, keeping his head pointed front, his shoulders squared, and his body still. Even if he was worried about that blood on his suit, too late to do anything about it now.

Matto finishes powering down a few systems, and, seeing the party coming to order outside, crawls out of the cockpit and then down out of the bird, suit zipped up again. He jumps down from the side of the ramp and comes into an attention.

Next out of the Hestia shuttle, after the marines, is a flightsuited pilot with patches and pins indicating the rank of Captain, a Captain who's been through a few transfers and served with quite a few squadrons. Nini "Whiplash" Sito steps out onto the wing of the raptor, takes a few steps along it, and then drops off the side to stand, waiting for the rest of the party to disembark. Her pale blonde hair is pulled into a tight tail, jaw set, pale eyes facing forward. That's the look of a long time soldier. She drops into an approximation of a parade rest, and her eyes skirt the hangar bay briefly, though her head doesn't turn. Her eyes go first to the vipers within easy line of sight.

Kai keeps his eyes forward, unwavering, as the 'dignitaries' begin to climb out of the raptor. His attention briefly goes to the other Captain who steps past him, but it's a fleeting notice.

With all the screens he's been trained to watch in the back of a Raptor, never let it be said that Thorn's peripheral vision isn't any good. Despite his head remaining perfectly still, he's able to get a decent look at the new captain. His eyes narrow as he examines her face, her expression, the set of her jaw. Something there makes him uneasy.

That could just be Komnenos' natural distrust of authority figures speaking in his mind, though.

Demitros remains straight and unmoving, his dark gaze analyzing the personnel that disembark from the Raptor. There's a bit of a narrowing to his lids, especially when he glances over his shoulder for a split second and scrutinizes over the rigid crew. Good. He then looks back, eyes tracking both the marines and the pilot that had disembarked. He says nothing, and does nothing until everyone has unloaded from the craft.

Paint this whole thing still uneasy for Roubani. He hasn't been tempted to smile at all, really, and still doesn't. The corners of his mouth are a bit tensed. Still at attention.

Volker's eyes are anything but unwavering. Head forward, the marine's focus snaps from faces to armaments to hips on each new appearance from the raptor's ramp. It's quick, and a sharp contrast to the rest of his face hanging heavy under the weight of more than a few sleepless nights.

Leda continues to watch this and he is a bit more optimistic as he watches the new kids on the block since this means more people survived and so now there is a slight smile on his face but he remains at attention.

Another pair of boots hit the deck, as a tall, dark-haired man with an Aquarian aesthetic to his sloe-eyed features climbs down off the hatch, directly meets Praxis' gaze, and then steps briskly to the side. The pins on his uniform bear the rank of Commander, which can only mean..

The last dignitary is a small woman. Dark skin, dark hair, she moves almost gingerly across the ramp, before stepping down at the very end and doing a slow sweep of the crowd of gathered soldiers. One needn't look at the pins on her collar to know that she holds high rank in the Colonial military, though if one does, they designate her as a Rear Admiral of the fleet. Her lips turn slightly, and then spread into a full grin as she fully takes in the sight in front of her. She steps toward Praxis, and extends her hand to him palm up. "Captain Demitros, I presume."

Matto is still not feeling terribly well after the whole trip down to the surface, replete as it was with getting charged, shot at, and helping load dead bodies into his boat. He doesn't register much of this latest development one way or the other— he doesn't seem anxious, but, on the other hand, he doesn't seem elated. Just watching, for now.

Kellin doesn't look as the people disembark from the Raptor, to do so would break formation and that's one thing a Marine doesn't do. His eyes do flicker to what he can see without moving.

Sparro's eyebrows raise slightly at that. A Rear-Admiral, eh? Just frakking great.

Martin finally moves his eyes to take in the sight of the pilot, the marines, and then finally the dark skinned woman presenting herself to Praxis. Using the crutches for support to keep his weight as balanced as possible to avoid wavering, he turns his eyes forward again to maintain decorum.

Aly's eyes widen ever so slightly at seeing the Rear Admiral and her head tilts ever so slightly to one side - only to snap back up again, of course.

Absalom studies the newest three arrivals closely, though his expression does not change. Not one iota as he listens to the introductions between Praxis and the Admiral.

Dell stands there since he doesn't really care what is going on since he is paid to shoot and that is all he wants to do. This might be a historic moment but the farmer has been ripped from Post Apocalyptic into Training and now he is a marine. He does watch Kellin to see what he needs to do next, still following the Corporal's lead so he maintains formation as well.

Once the Rear Admiral addresses the XO of the Kharon, Captain Sito's attention whips back to the Kharon CAG who stands across from her. Captain to Captain. She arches a brow ever so slightly, then flips off a salute with just a little flourish at the wrist. This one's for you, Kai. "Captain." Though the demeanor remains professional, there is a modicum of warmth in the title. It could easily be missed.

Roubani continues to…stand. Of course. Eyes trained on something close by one of the walls straight ahead.

The damaged side of Volker's face twitches slightly, and just the once. It's telling of something, but stands out as neither approval or dislike. Even if all were told, the opinion of one marine matters little. Hell, it might just be the fact the blood soaking into his clothes is getting really uncomfortable.

Praxis looks up at the woman that disembarks from the craft, an almost sparkling coming from his eyes when she heads through the hatchway and walks down the ramp. Demitros had never for a second thought that he would even lay eyes on a Rear Admiral much less see another human from another Colonial Vessel. He's glad that he had gotten all of the crew so very organized in such little time, perhaps this would reflect kindly on his first impression. Regardless, eyes dart down to the hand that extends out towards him, the XO reaching forward to take hers and firmly clasp it, a few solid pumps of his arm. "Yes, sir. On behalf of the entire crew of the Colonial Escort Carrier Kharon, we welcome you aboard, Admiral." His voice is steady, but may betray some shock.

The salute, of course, is returned by Marek. No flourish, no warmth, simply brisk professionalism. It's held for a few seconds and then dropped, though his blue eyes remain on hers fixedly, while the Rear Admiral converses with their XO.

If the XO is hiding shock Leda isn't as he blinks, one, two, three times as his expression goes wide eyed and he mouths 'Rear Admiral' he maintains his state of attention even if his arm is starting to cramp from hold the helmet there without moving.

All of Thorn remains immobile — save his eyes, which are flicking to and fro like mad as he continues to process the scene before him. His face remains expressionless as he regards the rear admiral; his eyes, though, are a tumultuous pool of restrained emotions. Shock, suspicion, grief, relief, even a tiny, tiny fraction of hope — a complete package from across the spectrum.

Sparro just stands where he is… though his eyes flick over towards the XO over that whole 'entire crew' thing.

The silence from Roubani is deafening. His eyes are guarded, whatever reactions going on in heart and/or head quite firmly veiled behind dark brown and black. His rhythmic breaths move his shoulders, almost imperceptibly.

Unaffected by the silent staring-with-salute received in return to her greeting, Sito settles into a CAG staring contest with Marek. Her hands return to the small of her back, clasped. She waits out the pleasantries between the upper brass.

Squaring his jaw, Martin pays mind to the salutes between Kai and the female Captain from the Hestia out of the corner of his eye. It's hard to not feel relieved at the sudden growth in numbers as it's quite possible they've come into contact with more humans than they have since the Holocaust. A slow, relieved breath exhales from his lungs.

The Admiral may be small, but she has a handshake like a steel vise. Any harder, and Praxis would've ended up with a cracked finger or two. "Thank you, Captain," she intones mildly, a smile coming easily on the heels of those words. "Might I welcome you, in return, to the fleet— or what's left of it." The interjection's made with slight self-deprecation, and a throaty little chuckle as she releases his hand. "Rear Admiral Sabah Mehra. I am the Commanding Officer of the Hestia." She gestures with an open palm to the officer who preceded her off the raptor, "Commander Kato Taji, my Executive Officer." And then the CAG, who's currently engaged in what looks like a staring contest with Kai, "Captain Nini Sito, Commander of the Air Group."

Thea's at the back of the grouping, watching the goings on with quietly professional interest. Not a word is said to anyone and she doesn't look to any of Kharon's crew - merely splits her attention between Sito and the Admiral.

At the 'return to the fleet' comment Absalom frowns just a bit, and his eyes glance from the Admiral to Praxis again, gauging his reaction to this welcome.

Thorn's lips go as thin as slits at the 'return to the fleet' bit, as well. For the moment, he's ignoring everyone but the admiral and Praxis, blue eyes going from one to the other.

Praxis nods his head slightly at the welcome, glancing sideways at Kai for a moment before the XO goes through the introductions. "Captain Praxis Demitros, Executive Officer - as you know. This is Captain Karim Marek, my own Commander of Air Group. This vessel is currently under the command of Colonel Mark Cortez … who is currently indisposed at this moment in time." Demitros swivels his head to peer over his shoulder at the rest of the personnel. "These have been exceedingly difficult times to wade through, Admiral … but we're glad you've made it thus far, sir. I cannot express how fortunate we are to see you." There's a brief pause. "The personnel of the Kharon have been outstanding and have carried us through exceeding difficulty."

Barney's eyes dart to each person as the formal introductions begin, that cheek giving another, singular, twitch. His boots slide slightly, widening his stance just enough to release another bout of coppery smell. The slight shift also belies any image of relaxation he may have had. There's a vein on his neck that might as well be a snake.

Martin collects the names into the internal workings of his mind. Passing them through his memories, he quietly ponders them and if he's ever heard their names prior to this day. Finding nothing at the moment, he tilts his eyes back towards Kai and Sito. A smile cracks at the edge of his face at the XO's mention of their performance, which quickly fades.

Leda keeps his attention on Papabear for a moment and then to Sito, since he doesn't like the look between them, return to the fleet fine, but don't mess with Papabear, beeyotch.

Matto doesn't find anything strange with the greeting, himself. After all, what are battlestars except to follow and Admirals except to get commanded by? Either that or he's not listening all that carefully. The adrenaline growing thin in his system is making him drift toward a crash, and half of his attention's on… remaining at attention, no matter how much he'd really like to sit down. Don't lock the knees. Falling over at this point would probably be a bad plan.

Roubani is completely still. Completely silent. Good old stick up one's ass.

Kai shows absolutely no reaction to the speech given by the Admiral, though does give a minute incline of his head when the XO mentions him by name. He's otherwise still and silent. It may as well be an unmoving statue in that blues uniform.

Once the XO and Admiral have had a little time to make with the nice-nice, Sito pipes up. "Permission to check under some tails, sir?" The Hestia's CAG isn't one for lengthy formal proceedings, and she's apparently itching to get her hands on the nuts and bolts of the Air Wing here. That would be the vipers and reports for the last weeks, not anything contained within the flight suits. It's just a little local color, her colloquialism. Her accent puts her solidly from the more lilting region of Aerelon, with just a little bit of down home twang. Her eyes, of course, remain on Marek's. There's just the slightest shift in her gaze as she regards the Kharon's CAG, some time after his name is enunciated.

Sabah skims her eyes over the Kharon CAG, and a couple of the other crew while Praxis speaks. Barnabas, for whatever reason, is briefly a recipient of her attention, as is Komnenos. Her dark eyes swivel back to the XO, and a smile marks the corners of her mouth again. "That's heartening to hear, Captain. Well, shall we adjourn to somewhere more comfortable, to talk? I'm sure your people must be tired, and I know my CAG has about a hundred and one things she wants to cover with yours." Despite the even keel of her speech, there's an aura of genuine relief, perhaps even admiration in the tone of her voice. Nini's request is not answered, yet.

The corner of Roubani's eye makes a slight twitch when the New Captain (tm) makes a request to go poking around their vipers and raptors. Other than that he stays still.

The Hestia's XO, meanwhile, watches on silently from his spot slightly to Sabah's right. He seems happy to let his CO do the talking.

Martin's statuesque hold breaks for just a moment as he's forced to lean against one of his crutches for a moment to adjust the way his arm is resting under the other. It's a minor move, barely noticeable, but twitch he does.

Sito's query has been laid at the feet of the Admiral, and she but waits for it to be answered, without a shift in posture or gaze.

Mention of 'checking under tails' garners a subtle reaction from Kai, as well. A slight tension between his eyes, an almost imperceptible shift in his posture. His tongue slips out to drag across his lower lip slowly, but he otherwise keeps his eyes on Sito and waits.

Barney's brow furrows, but only once attention is gone from his face. And only for a moment. The only other movement is a slight shifting of his shoulder, as though he was trying to touch his cheek with a phantom hand. The rest of the meeting will be spent with the simple marine trying to work out what the hell got him looked at. Without trying to give away that's what he's thinking about, anyway.

Absalom glances sidelong at the twitching Martin for half a second, and then back to the OTHER CAG as she speaks up.

Sito displays just the faintest of smiles at the reaction from Marek, the corner of her mouth sliding up a fraction and then returning to a stoic neutrality. Splash one.

Thorn doesn't shy from the admiral's gaze, but like Barnabas, isn't quite sure what got him specifically noticed. Maybe the streaks of Pickens' blood on his suit, but then, maybe not. A lieutenant could drive himself crazy thinking about such things, so Thorn does his best not to, simply remaining in his stock-still position of attention.

Sparro stands for a moment, but then slowly, reluctantly, raises his hand. Damn him and his mouth, but he has a question.

Splash one, perhaps, for Sito. Of course, what's gone on his well and truly noted by the Raptor Captain who's remaining hidden toward the back. She simply watches the new CAG for a time, lips turning up ever so slightly in a smile.

Kellin hasn't changed position from his cadet form of attention, Marines don't do that, well at least not this Marine anyway.

Praxis carefully waits with placid features while the Admiral scans his crew, the XO not looking back for a moment while this occurs. Finally Sabah's voice once again touches down upon his ears, and there's a brief nod in agreeance. Jade eyes swivel about to lay upon the executive officer of the other craft before meeting with the fleet leader. "Very well, sir. Let us proceed to my quarters; I'm certain there is a great deal we have to discuss and catch up on," Praxis offers. "I would produce more formal accomodations, however our Ward Room was destroyed in one of the attacks on our craft." There's a brief pause before Praxis glances to the gung-ho CAG. "Sir, I suggest that Captain Sito converse with Captain Marek for orientation before 'tail-checking' commences." Perhaps giving Marek a little bit of time to establish his territory. Subsequently, Demitros gestures forward towards the stairs to lower decks. "After you, sir."

The hope Castor had at the start of this meeting is gone since stuff is going down and the tension in the room is so thick you could cut it with a knife and refine it for fuel. As Sparro raises his hand Leda's eyes flick over since this ought to be amusing. It is like watching someone walk into the lions den.

Or strap on garters and hop into traffic.

Perhaps it's his exhaustion talking, or perhaps it's his exhibitionistic streak, but Kisseus doesn't seem to mind overmuch where the new Captainlady wants to look, as long as someone says 'as you were' or something similar soon.

Kai cuts his eyes toward Sparro, and gives a tiny shake of his head when he sees the hand go up.

Barney attempts the smallest of shifts once more. He's pretty sure that his pants are starting to congeal.

Sparro shakes his head angrily, but lowers his hand. As he walks towards the tool room to get equipment for some more post-flight work on his bird, doubly important if they suddenly have time for an inspection, he whispers to his CAG as he walks past.

The Hestia CAG's eyes move only a fraction of a second after Marek's, following his gaze to the older pilot with the hand up. She makes a note of the face, takes a sweep of a gaze at the rank pins, and then goes back to eyeballing Kai. Arched eyebrows rise a tic, but Whiplash says nothing.

Dell looks at all the brass in the room and he is still standing there stiff as a statue at attention with a pensive look on his face but his face ussually does look slightly pensive.

Roubani continues to watch this, a tension in his demeanor that's less hostility than it is a tankful of reserve, rather like the tension when somebody sits down next to you just a /hair/ too close. His eyes flicker once to Sparro and then back to what's going on, head not moving.

Thorn, also, doesn't look enthused at the idea of strangers poking at 'his' Raptor. But, rank isn't exactly on his side, so what's he going to do about it? Nothing, that's right. Let 'em poke around, then. He squirms ever so slightly, surreptitiously adjusting his stained flightsuit. Sparro's movement is caught in his peripheral vision, and he watches the older pilot for a moment before going eyes front and stock still once again.

The Admiral examines her hand briefly, as if afraid she might have come away with something after shaking the Kharon XO's. It's just a moment, and then she lifts her eyes again, inclines her head slightly, and indicates with a hitch of her chin for the Commander to accompany her. "Captain Sito, you heard the man." The 'man' being Praxis, it seems. And then, after one last sweep of the crowd with her eyes, she turns and starts off for the stairs, moving for all the world like she's walking on eggshells and not breaking a single one.

Once the Admiral has departed, Martin turns his head towards the Kharon's CAG and spots Mimieux in his periphery. Turning, he crutches over towards her and raises his eyebrows. Murmuring something softly to her, he moves to form in behind Spider to get a look at Captain Sito from a closer angle.

Upon departing from the hangar bay with the Admiral, Demitros waits until the last moment before he mentions to the crew, "As you were," before disappearing with the commander of the fleet to discuss things unknown.

It's not until Praxis announces the 'as you were' that Aly looks toward Martin, a brow quirking slightly. Lips purse a bit and she nods, sighing softly under her breath. One hand reaches out, fingers gently dropping on the pilot's forearm for just a second.

Absalom slowly relaxes, and then starts to walk in the direction of his brokeass bird. He reaches up and pats at the armor of it for a moment, and then picks up the deckchart hanging off the ladder to its cockpit. He frowns, hangs the clipboard back up, and mutters to the ship, "Looks like I'm gonna be fit before you are."

And like that, the deck suddenly turns into Air-Wing territory. Barney is like a well-etiquetted, slightly squelchy blur as he heads for the way out. Apparently the blood issue is begining to get to him. Also the whole air-wing thing. Run, Marine! Run!

As you were. What every pilot loves to hear. Once it's announced, Thea moves up toward Kai - coming to stand just behind one shoulder so she can get a good look at the Other CAG.

Roubani exhales softly through his nose as things start to break up. His eyes close for just a moment. Not prayer, as usual, but simply recomposing. Breath drawn back in the same way it went out, his shoulders don't relax as eyes reopen, sharply watching the departing's backs. Only when they're gone into the hatchway does he look away, lips thinned.

Kai lifts his eyes when Sparro passes close by and murmurs something to him, but still doesn't respond. Not until the XO gives the 'at ease'. And then he addresses the pilot without turning to look at him; his eyes stay on the more diminutive CAG's the entire time, even as Legacy draws up behind him. "Lieutenant." No question whom that was aimed at.

Sito nods with a brief drop of her chin to the words of the Admiral. "Yes, sir." The words are succinct, but carry the flavor of that accent, drawing it out just a little. "Captain Marek," she begins, though she pronounces it 'may-wreck', drawing out that first syllable to epic degrees. "My dance card has your name penciled in all up and down it. Care to give me a twirl around your adorable little hangar deck? I'll go on my own if you need a moment to deal with," she points to the pilot with the self control issue. "That." Her hands then drop behind her back again, to lace loosely. "But I must warn you, Captain. I don't use coasters, and I touch damn near everything."

Sparro hears his rank and stops, turning. "Captain?" He asks.

Oh, thank frakking gods. Kisseus takes a deep breath and lifts a hand to one side to prop himself up against his Foxbat, slouching into a more natural posture as some semblance of life returns to him. Once he's out of attention, his actual attention seems to wander back to the goings-on, and the new Captain's the recipient of a curious looking over and the beginnings of a friendly sort of smile, maybe a degree of a nod if he happens to catch her eye. Beyond that, he doesn't get involved, but turns his attention toward the Poet's viper and the Poet himself.

Finally. Thorn relaxes from the position of attention with a muted sigh. After a brief stretch, the tall Raptor man unzips his flightsuit down to the waist. He focuses a look at the Hestia CAG; something about her accent sounds extremely familiar. Definitely Aerelon, though not near as thick as his own highlander dialect. His head turns briefly to Roubani, but then Komnenos is scurrying back towards his own Raptor, the one he'd shared with Ivory. If NewCAG is determined to feel up his ship, he's damn well going to be the chaperone.

Leda can finally move his arm FINALLY he then rolls his shoulder and shakes the kinks out since he was cramping a bit there holding his helmet that long. His eyes flicker over to his bird and to the new CAG and he stops to watch for a moment. He then turns to look over at Sparro and he shakes his head a little bit and he does an honest to goodness facepalm.

Roubani reaches up, running a hand through his choppy hair and then rubbing the side of his neck. His dark eyes turn and exchange that look with Thorn, then flicker to Matto.

Dell begins to walk away, "Next time we should get a ruler so we can measure each others dicks." His only comment said to Kellin, he quickly follows that with a, "Sir." He then gives a salute and heads out of the Hangar.

Marek gives the Hestia's CAG a small nod, and even manages not to correct her on the proper pronunciation of his name. "I'd be happy to, Captain." He salutes briskly, then turns back to Sparro. "The next time you have a question, you will wait until you're given permission to move a frakking muscle," he informs the other pilot, evenly, "You will not speak. You will not fart. You will not raise your hand. Or I will break it off and shove it up your own ass. Am I clear?"

Martin glances to his left to see Legacy approach. One Marek's right shoulder himself, the younger Black pilot lowers his brow as he adjusts his lean on his crutches. A little confused by the other CAG's request, he does his best to keep his facial expressions to a minimum. That's around the time that Spider addresses Birdman, forcing him to divert his attention away from Kairim, and instead to size up Sito.

Absalom has to turn back to looking at the clipboard hanging off of his ship to conceal the bit of a smile that crosses over his features at Marek's dressing down of Sparro. He coughs quietly, then, turns back in the direction of where everyone else is looking and congregating. The man tilts his head a little, and climbs up to sit on the ledge of his cockpit to better watch the — to steal the metaphor of Sito — dance unfold.

Sparro nods. "Clear as a bell, sir. But for the record," he looks at his watch. "We have minutes until something is officially weird." He gives NewCAG a nod. "And that's assuming the Cylons only got interested once we joined the party."

Matto stays by his Foxbat's side, perhaps for the same reasons as Thorn goes scurrying to his. His eyes once having drifted to Nadiv, though, stay there, and he gives the Poet a warm if tired smile from across the way, followed by a quiet uptick of both eyebrows in combination with a downtick of their outermost edges, a muted drawing in of both sides of his mouth, a silent query after the Poet's health.

Thea remains quiet. Kai's the CAG, perfectly capable of handling things himself. She's simply either a quiet support behind his shoulder or there to watch someone, or something, go down in flames.

Roubani isn't moving far either, not as long as Bizarro CAG is on deck. Hangar's filled with protective types today. He doesn't smile back at Matto, but nods a little bit. And a give a small movement of eyebrow in return. Telepathy?

By the time Marek makes his reply, Sito's attention has wandered to the pilots who linger, skipping over them one by one. "Sounds like a wonderful time," She returns nods, smiles slightly at any smiles offered up, and peruses them visually before looking back to the CAG and Sparro. "Gods sake, Yipper, shut your trap and walk on off before your Captain tans your hide. We're set to bug out if any contacts pop up, not bein' complete morons, and alive after so long. Smooth your panties, sugar, 'fore someone yanks 'em through your throat." And then she says to Marek, "I'll be over here with this raptor before her pilot leaves a puddle in anticipation. Calm down, honey, I'm not gonna break it…" And she's off for Thorn's bird. Must have smelled the fear. Or whatever that is.

Leda continues to watch everything going down with Sparro and the CAG who may be number two in command but number one in Castor's heart speak and he begins to walk over to join everyone since everyone is congregating like school kids around the cool kid when new cool kids show up. His eyes keep flitting over to his bird to see what sort of an inspection she will get since she was a bit banged up in tonights mission.

Thorn purses his lips as Sito makes first for his bird, his expression showing anything but fear. Psh, like she's the first Captain he's had to deal with. His blooded flight suit remains bunched around his waist, and his hair and tanktops are both a sweat-streaked mess. But then, she has to know what pilots look like after a mission. Thorn does, at least, come back to a position of respectful(?) attention as NewCAG approaches his ship.

Once Martin's moved on, and it's clear there's no one else in need of medical attention, Aly slips out of the lion's den as quickly as she arrived.

Glancing to Kai's shoulder when the Hestia's CAG speaks, Martin's eyebrows lift ever so slightly at the means in which the woman talks. While he has respect for Sparro, he can't help but find familiarity in the way she speaks. Great…it's like having a Jupiter that can force you to do chores. The side of Martin's mouth pulls into a miniscule grin as he turns and starts to crutch towards the door.

Kai had already started off to accompany Sito on her trip around the 'bay, but pauses when Sparro addresses him again. "The only thing that's weird, Birdman, is the fact that you don't have a couple of Commander's pins on your uniform, for insight like that. Black Cat." There's a glance toward the black squad leader, and then a nod to the other pilots that couches an unvoiced request. He holds the woman's eyes for a few seconds, then turns to follow Whiplash, pace as brisk as his limp will allow.

Sito falls mercifully silent as her path across the deck takes her in range of the Foxbat. "As you were." She sweeps a look over Thorn. "Solid birds, aren't they?" Her comment is brief, thankfully so. She hops up on the wing and takes a closer look at the raptor. She gives it a knock, for some purpose unknown, then scuffs a boot over a little splash of blood on the wing. "That marine blood? They do stain somethin' awful." She turns her eyes to the CAG again. "Marek." May-wreck. "Would you care to do me the honor of an introduction to the pilots lingering in these parts?"

Roubani picks his postflight clipboard back up once NewCAG starts leading their Captains around, brow ever so slightly raised as his dark eyes follow for a second or two. Then it's onto postflight, which he'd had no opportunity to get done. Checklists. Stellar. New external damage? He looks up and at his undercarriage, inspecting it.

Matto gives Nadiv a reassuring nod in return, though his smile sobers the meanwhile. Any time his Foxbat comes in with a fresh application of blood over the inside's a bad day out, in his book. In other news, yes, he does seem to have perfected the art of telepathy once again— the only other person he's ever been seen having silent conversations with has been Poppy. Sober or not, however, Nini's figures of speech threaten to pull a giggle out of him. This one's a keeper, in his book, so far.

"Gentlemen," Thea says quietly, dipping her head to Kai. "Put the curtains down and the cameras away. The CAG isn't your baby sister out on her first date." One hand sweeps toward the door. "Back to berthings or stations as appropriate. The injured…" Well hell. BCAG has asked for something, so the Raptor Captain pauses, glancing between Thing 1 and Thing 2. Wait, no. CAG1 and CAG2. She looks away only to give Sparro A Look. It's one of those speaking looks. Of course, the language is likely pig latin.

Screech…Martin heard the Hestia's CAG request introductions. With a few well placed rubber ended stabbings into the floor, Martin turns and heads to follow along behind Spider for the moment, allowing himself to be accessed. It would, after all, be embarrasing if they all scattered like roaches.

Sparro takes a step forward, then looks at Thea as the CAG calls out her callsign. He chews his lip for a second, then shakes his head. "42 minutes, Captain. Like clockwork. I assume you remember the incident." He grabs his tools and walks over to the bird he shares with Thorn, and starts doing some postflight. Well, sorta. His eyes never leave newCAG… or rather any spot where she touches his bird.

Absalom turns a little and reaches into his cockpit for something. After digging around for a few moments, he pulls out a couple of items that look like they might be pictures, and slips them into a pocket of his blues. He then smirks a bit at Sparro's words as he hears them.

Komnenos relaxes slightly, offering Sito a terse nod. "They seem t' do th' job pretty well at that, sir," comes the mild reply. His lips purse slightly as the woman's foot starts prodding his bird, but he says nothing beyond a "Yes, sir" in response to her question about the blood. He's quiet after that, a curious eye turning to Kai as NewCAG asks for introductions.

Trying to do postflight, here. Roubani checks off one, then the next box. External engines. He tucks the clipboard into the crook of his arm and walks closer to the back of the Viper, looking up. Small scribble on that one.

As Castor hears Thea speaks about stations or berthings a light bulb goes off and Leda goes to work on his reports A.) Since they need to be done and B.) because he wants to keep an eye on his bird.

Kai barely suppresses the urge to grimace as his name is butchered, yet again. At least Nini hasn't attempted 'Karim' yet. That one's hard to get right even if you don't speak with an Aerelon twang. "Lieutenant Anton Komnenos." The Raptor ECO is pointed out first. "Callsign Thorn. He's my most senior countermeasures officer. The invalid over there-" Martin can probably spot the fondness in that word, even if Whiplash can't. "-is Lieutenant Martin Black, callsign Dash." Blue eyes scan over a few faces, searching for.. aha. "Captain Althea Legacy, in charge of my raptors. Callsign Black Cat. Ask her some time how she earned that, it's a good story and she's a damned fine officer." Then, "Lieutenant Nadiv Roubani, Poet. Lieutenant Absalom 'Shadow' Harris." He nods toward Matto. "Lieutenant Kisseus Matto, our very own Madman." His lips twitch a little at that. Smile? Him? Never. "And Lieutenant Castor Leda, man of a thousand callsigns, currently Shepherd." There isn't a one of them who isn't spoken of with a subtle fondness.

Kai barely suppresses the urge to grimace as his name is butchered, yet again. At least Nini hasn't attempted 'Karim' yet. That one's hard to get right even if you don't speak with an Aerelon twang. "Lieutenant Anton Komnenos." The Raptor ECO is pointed out first. "Callsign Thorn. He's my most senior countermeasures officer. The invalid over there-" Martin can probably spot the fondness in that word, even if Whiplash can't. "-is Lieutenant Martin Black, callsign Dash." Blue eyes scan over a few faces, searching for.. aha. "Captain Althea Legacy, in charge of my raptors. Callsign Black Cat. Ask her some time how she earned that, it's a good story and she's a damned fine officer." Then, "Lieutenant Nadiv Roubani, Poet. Lieutenant Absalom 'Shadow' Harris." He nods toward Matto. "Lieutenant Kisseus Matto, our very own Madman." His lips twitch a little at that. Smile? Him? Never. "Lieutenant Castor Leda, man of a thousand callsigns, currently Shepherd. And the Mouth is Lieutenant Kyle Sparro, callsign Birdman." There isn't a one of them who isn't spoken of with a subtle fondness, though Sparro's introduction is given in a slightly clipped fashion.

Nini turns her head slightly, and asides to Marek, when he gets to Sparro, "That boy's front porch light is burnt out." It's a little bit question, a little bit observation. Yes, she's referring to Sparro. The comment made, she turns her eyes to Komnenos again. She nods in reply to his words. "It'll wash." The marine leakage. "It'll all wash." Pale green eyes take in the other faces nearby. She has an eye for the raptors, as well. Most jocks go right for the vipers. Not this one. "Captain Nini Sito. Y'all can call me Whiplash less I say otherwise. I only say otherwise you piddle in my garden patch." Whatever that means. Her eyes find each one as they're introduced, taking about four seconds of eye contact each. If they don't look up, she settles for memorizing their faces. "Everybody needs a Madman." Her gaze returns, at last, to the other Captain in the room, Thea. She nods. "Sounds like a story over drinks sometime, Captain."
Absalom bites on his lower lip at the comment about garden patches. He then innocently looks over at the other CAG as she stares at him, expression settling into slightly-amused neutral. He finishes the gaze, then, climbs down from his bird and starts to walk off towards the exit to the Hangar as Legacy suggested those not on duty ought to do.

Oh. Social hour. Roubani sets the edge of the clipboard against his hip and a hand over the far edge, looking up as names start getting thrown around. His prayer beads are half untucked out of the wrist of his flightsuit, part of the loop dangling over the back of the clipboard. "Sir." It's not a question, just the punctuation to the succinct introduction.

Martin's lip curls into a grin. Invalid. Raising his arm in a light salute to Sito, Martin nods his head. "Whiplash." He replies, responding back to her with her callsign as she requests. Tilting his gaze then towards the Raptors and the crowd around them, he decides that he's a little boxed in and his shift is ending. Still on the light duty roster, he'll spar with some of the others later. Turning, he heads away from the group, back out the way that he came.

Strangely enough, Thea's got a smile for CAG2. She dips her head and chuckles quietly. "Same, Captain," she replies to the other woman. Then she turns her attention to the rest of the wing. "Ladies and gentlemen, if you're not about to go up for CAP or being addressed by our guest, then kindly remove your asses from the deck." Nope, not a suggestion. "Reports can be done in the ready room. Convalescing can be done in the Sickbay." This, of course, to Martin. "I'd suggest getting some rest while you can." In other words, vamoose.

Komnenos manages a slightly more gracious nod to Captain Sito as Kai introduces him. Or maybe it was just the brief ego rush that came with the mention of 'most senior ECO'. For his part, he has no problem deciphering Sito's earthy aphorisms; in fact, he's barely able to subdue a snicker at the comment about piddling in the garden. It's a testament to his will that he doesn't. Despite Thea's orders, Komnenos stays precisely where he is — at least until Kai and Sito move away from his ship, at any rate. Technically, he is — or just was — being addressed.

"Will do, sir." Martin says sidelong to Black Cat as he passes her. "If I'm needed you know where I'll be. I think I'm short on days on light duty, can't wait to get back in the seat." Martin adds, slipping out the main hangar door.

Matto isn't afraid of eye contact, either by nature or simply because it's a very Leontinian thing to do. A tight but lively smile and a lift of the hand not currently helping prop him up against his boat into a wave, since everyone seems to have been put at-ease. "Hey," he calls, by way of greeting. His attention's drawn by his very own Captain, however, and he gives her a nod. He lingers, just briefly, in case Nini's interest brings her around to his Foxbat, but is prepped to scamper if else.

Leda looks up at the New CAG and he offers a polite and in his best puppydog greeting he says, "Sir." He watches the woman for a moment with that same puppydog look but he then offers a brief smile before he goes back to his report. Damage taken, check, location, scribble, scribble scribble. He finishes quickly to get out of here since orders are orders with that Leda is out like a baby.

Kai certainly hasn't said anything to the pilots, in the vein of being on their best behaviour. Which doesn't mean it's not implied. He's quiet as Nini does the rounds of trying to match faces to names. There's a slight twinge of his lips here, a nod there, but he's otherwise content to wait until she's ready to move on to business, while the other pilots finally start to filter out.

"We got a couple bent up birds on our hangar could be used for parts. Looks like y'all could use 'em more than us." Sito's eyes have taken in a couple of the vipers. Most of them look pretty battle worn. "Captain Marek," May-wreck, Gods, she just butchers it five times and cooks it up with grits, "No reason everyone can't scoot, you got a few moments on your own. Post flight and showers an' all that. Don't stand on my account." She turns to face the other CAG. "If you've got the logs, I've got the smokes. Let's get on down to it, shall we?"

Sparro hesitates, then stands. "Aye, Captain." He looks very much like a man marching to the firing squad. "Tick, tick…" he mutters as he leaves the deck.

Absalom shakes his head a little at the retreating Dash, "Like he knows a damn thing bout bein on duty.." he grumbles quietly. The man walks out of the hangar, quietly muttering about his SL.

Ordered off the deck in the middle of postflight. This clearly bothers Roubani, but he sets clipboard aside. "Captains." A very formal nod to the three, equally formal salute, and he starts off.

Matto pushes away from his Foxbat, having run the inside half of post-flight and having Gresham around to do the outside half. He makes his way toward the stairwell— by way of a vague detour into the gravitational field of Nadiv's Wolf, presumably to meet up with him on the way out.

After a moment's pause, Thorn hops down from his Raptor's wing as Sito dismisses the remaining pilots. He stays long enough to do a walkaround on his craft and then initial the deck crew's log, and then he's striding slowly towards the exit.

Thea watches the oh, so delicate pair of Matto and Roubani for a moment before she looks to the rest of those vacating. Once those people who weren't specifically doing work, and even some who abandoned their duties due to common sense issues, have started off, the Captain turns her attention to Kai, meeting his eyes briefly. Then she, too, turns to head off, apparently heeding her own orders.

There's a glance sent from Kai to Thea, largely unreadable save to the redhead herself. A small nod, a beat, and then he's looking back to Sito. "Sure, Captain. I keep my logs in the ready room, though we can head over to the sims if you want to join me for a smoke. I'd offer you a cup of coffee, too, but the stuff on this deck tastes like shit."

Sito nods, wordless, and laces her hands behind her back before she follows Marek's lead.

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