Watch Yo' self
Watch Yo'self (show me what you're working with)
Summary: Castor runs into Virgil Gresham. The pilot starts some conversation, and some where, a gasket slips.
Date: PHD 139 (September 4th, 2009)
Related Logs: none
Players:
Gresham..Castor..

Castor Leda has been in the mess hall waiting for a certain someone to arrive, a someone who isn't here. He looks at the sheets which now cut the mess in half and he takes a seat at an empty table as military men and women eat quietly. For his part, the Viper Pilot is silent as he finally decides he should eat and so he stands, signs for his food, and takes a seat at the same table he was at before.

There's only so many joys about sleeping in the messhall. However, Virgil Gresham cannot fathom a single one. Instead he's actually beyond the curtains which are serving as some form of an informal barrier between the rest of the world and shantyville as he has come to call it. Eyes down, as he plods with his fork at his rations? or well civilian rationing, scooping some of the goop on what could be considered bread before he's taking a bite. A bandaid sits on his left temple, and other wise nothing much has changed of his attire. He is still in his deep orange flightsuit, with the arms of his thicker shirt peeking out from his cut sleeves. Yeah, he's a civlian pilot-orsomething or other.

There is a startled look up though to the sound of someone joining him at the table. A brow raised for a second as he looks towards Castor, before he is nodding along. A greeting-that.

Leda looks at Gresham for a moment and a silent nod is passed before he offers kindly, "Name is Castor Leda, Lieutenant, Junior Grade, callsign Tinman. I don't think I have had the pleasure to meet you yet, sir." He says as he offers his hand since today is tuna cassarole day which will be a disappointment to Martin who isn't here. "How are you holding up?" He asks in kind and concerned tones as he doesn't know this man from any other of the civilian men. "Are you adjusting well? I mean I hope we aren't to loud on our side…and if we are I am sorry." He then takes a moment to study the man again, "Is Messville treating you well?"

"My." says the red headed man as he looks back up for a moment, another bite of his bread and goop concoction which has left him momentarily speechless. A lick of his lips and then he is reaching for his water. "That's quite a mouthful-How about this? I'll call you one of those things that you're comfortable with, and you can call me Virgil." A look back to his food, before he is shrugging for a second. "Fine- I guess considering the whole world as we know it has ended." a look back at Castor "Yourself?" He'll at least wait for an answer before continuing on. "Well, you all could be quieter." Wait does he even mean that? It is hard to tell, but Gresham continues "Ah yes. I love the smell of foodstuff all day combined with people watching me as I sleep. Its amazing." sarcasm? Why yes, thank you.

Castor looks at Gresham for a moment. "Virgil it is nice to meet you." He offers as it would seem he is a Viper Jock that isn't set on being a total jerk. "And yeah, we have all taken losses." This bit isn't hidden because the fleet has taken losses, humanity has taken losses, and in general things are wearing down and Leda knows it. Finally he says, "I am doing well all things considered…though we could all be better off." He then says, "I'll pass the word to see if I can get us all quieter but Virgil I'm not sure it will work…but I will pass the word along." He then looks at his food which is warm and he isn't about to come down on a civilian since they have had it a lot harder than he has. "Virgil, I'm sorry the conditions are difficult. If it were in my power to give you a better place to live I'd do so." Again he is an honest sort of man as he speaks since it oozes from his tones.

Gresham nods slightly as he goes back to eating. A pause for a second as he tilts his head "No joke- One would think everyone would, given the fact that it is the apocalypse." there another bite, and he is starting to build up another open faced messhall sandwich, before continuing on. "Really, a sign might be all that is needed. I highly doubt that there is the need to hunt people down for heart to hearts." Just a sign that reads :Hey, Everybody, remember the refugees? Yeah well, just keep her down. Another look back up for a moment though to the next statement "Huh?" another bite, but he is waiting till he is done chewing before even piping up. "Well, you're not-so I wouldn't entirely worry about it. Gods help them that help themselves, yeah?" A roll of his shoulders. and another sip of water. "The only thing I miss is a shirt I used to own. And my gun, but I really can't expect that thing to show back up."

Castor asks, "Virgil, if you don't mind, could you tell me something about yourself?" He asks in all curiousity as he wants to understand what he can do to help this man but he doesn't have a frame of reference beyond, life sucks and then you die. He then says. "And I'm sorry about your shirt. I will see what I can do about finding you a new one if you can decribe it to me." He then adds, "And while this is the end of the world we are all alive and that has some sort of meaning." He then takes a breath as he begins eating his food. "As for a gun Virgil, I'm sorry, but civilians can't carry arms on a military vessel, however, think of it this way, you are a special VIP surrounded by people with guns."

"Castor." a pause "I am not a moron- So you don't need to explain anything about guns and military vessels. I am well aware of the codes and regulations that come with dealing with military personnel and firearms." After all the man is wearing a civilian grade flightsuit, he must have some knowledge of the great beyond that is space. "Its just, it was hard to find the Dragon Mark XIX. I had to buy it from an arms dealer, and then I still had to find a kit to make the launcher underneath the barrel operative." a sigh there "Couldn't hit anything with a PicoNSeVeN- but the .357 Dragon? I could nail a cubit." Okay not nessecarily true, but he always liked the way it felt. As for the rest there's a shrug. "It was one of those cheesy Aquarian floral print shirts. You know the kind, blue with waves done on it, and beaches, surf boards, Palm trees, flowers. I had three of em, but now, I have none." A shrug "Them's the breaks I guess." And the remainder of the open faced sandwich is gone in a big bite. "As for something about me?" a shake of his head "Sorry sport- I don't think I have anything too interesting that would account for much."

Castor chuckles softly, "Let's just say your firearm kicks more ass than my MI firearm." He then says, "Virgil we are all in situations where we don't want to be these days. Frak, I can think of a million places I'd rather be and yet, here we are." He then studies Virgil, "I know this isn't easy and I know you are a pilot but hear me out on this we are doing the best we can in the military to protect what is left of humanity." He then pauses, "Hey, do you think you could fly a Viper or a Raptor?" His question is curious and without a hint of looking down on Virgil, "No but really, what did you pilot before all of this?"

"That was the point, in case my ship was to be boarded by pirates, we-the crew were expected to defend said cargo." Yeah that would have been awesome. Except, decidedly not. Virgil pushes his tray aside as he now is contemplating more on his conversational partner and water which is held loosely in his left hand. For gesturing, you know. "Oh I got used to the situation on the Elpis, but there, I had a bed, which is eight billion times better than a cot. Cots squeak, and beds on ships for the most part- don't. Even with Noisy neighbors." A shake of his head and another sip of water. "Uh- I dunno?" asked with a raised brow before he is leaning back. "Well- before my lovely stint on the Elpis and well-here I was a co-pilot, navigator and countermeasure's officer on the Marietta. Which was a smaller cargo craft. A Mud dauber, which handles like a big airbus, or one of those old Colonial guard ambulances…but-bulkier?" A shrug there. "That's what I helped fly at least. I don't think I had enough fancy moves for real piloting, I was okay drifting and plotting. Easy stuff."

Castor looks at Virgil for a moment and he says, "Sir, we are doing the best we can. I understand your need to complain and I understand this is difficult but let me says this, we are all struggling here." There is a certain tone that comes in his voice which reads, now is not the time to push the button, "I can't say that I know how difficult it has been for you but I can say we haven't be standing around doing nothing. I'm sorry you in a cot but a cot is the best we have right now." He then leans in as he says, "And for the record, and let me make myself clear here, we all have suffered, so either put up an enlist in the military or shut up and enjoy the best we can give you and if you don't like that we can drop you on the planet of your choosing so you can fight against radiation and metal."

Gresham just stares right back at the other pilot for a second. "Huh?" A look back towards shantyville, before he's looking back confusedly at Castor for a second. "Is your brain screwed in alright? Because, I do't see where cot translates into you're not doing your job or people aren't suffering? Maybe you can draw me out a diagram that states it all out clearly, because the jump you made boggles most people." Gresham counting himself as most people right now. "Or, are disagreeing with the fact that I did a myriad of jobs on a commercial cargo plane? Sorry- but not all of us join the military right out of where ever you're from." Whether Virgil can read people or not seems not to even be noticed. And to the lean in, Virglil leans back in from his easy recline to look dead on at the other pilot. "Are you threatening me to conscript? If so, I hope you don't speak for all of the other officers on this ship, because right now-you're screaming invasive asshole. If I choose to enroll" as he would be a pilot, thus an officer not enlisted. "It will be my decision when I hear there is open recruiting, and even then it will be between me and the Commander of the Air Wing- and whoever else i the higher ups of the ship that my papers will have to go through." and with that he takes another sip of water before leaning back. "For someone looking to make sure people feel welcome- You're not doing a good job."

Castor looks at Gresham for a moment and he says, "Virgil, there will be no conscription, however is you wish to join the fleet any extra hand will be accepted." He then looks at his food and back to Gresham, "I do my best to make people feel welcome, sir. However you seem to have found me at the exception and not the rule." He stands leaving his food where it is, "Be well, Virgil." He then walks away because right now he is not sure how to deal with the man and he isn't about to create an incident.

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