A group of pilots, a techie, and a doctor relax in the Rec Room.
Location: Rec Room, Deck 8, Battlestar //Galactica//
Related Scenes: None
Scene Number: 872
Van laughs aloud where he sits at one of the tables toward the front of the rec room, shaking his head and reaching up to take off the holoband that was previously down over his features, "I am not cut out to play a battleship." The comment is just made in general as he disengages from the VR game Seas of Fire, "So you all had better hope that I never command a battlestar, because I just crashed into an island. And that was just in two-D."
Eli is seated at a table with a few extra seats. He's got a mug of something hot in one hand and a book in the other. The book, judging from the cover (which, contrary to popular wisdom, can actually be a good indicator) is some kind of spy thriller. He doesn't seem entirely engrossed in his task. He glances up frequently as people move past him.
Isolde slides her holoband from her face, tossing her short hair with a wry smile. "I'll make sure to tell the bosses you are unfit for a command, Newton." She sweeps her fingers back through her coils of dark hair, drawing them back into a rough knot. She pushes her chair back, bumping lightly into an empty seat at Eli's table. She turns around, offering up an apology. "Sorry, I didn't... see you." She looks at the empty seat and then at Eli, and a small, sheepish smile is offered.
Having just stepped inside the red room, Eva seems to be trying to to find the edge of the rec room that has the least amount of noise, which was, until Van's outburst, near the JG's table. She's eschewed the books and magazines, VR games, and more modern entertainments. Instead, she's armed with a bowl filled with a few spools of thread, with a pair of crochet needles, and a small book. Spying a free seat at a table, she plops herself down at an empty seat. Why? Because she sort of gave the brunette the same look Isolde just did. Thankfully though, nobody's looking at her, and she settles into her usual not quite RBF.
Dual tanks and olive-green BDUs: the classic attire of an off-duty member of the navy. Whether they be officer or enlisted, air or ground. Something more comfortable to lounge in or just be better able to rub elbows with the people you're stuck with for the foreseeable future. Niemec is dressed thus, bare arms showcasing the black ink inscribed upon her flesh. The Raptor pilot has one hand in a pocket as she steps into the rec room alongside someone in duty blues and bearing Lieutenant pins. She's got a mug in the other; safe to assume it's coffee. "Sucks that your squad's got the older birds, but you even said they're bringing in new ones soon as they're off the factory line. So, what, a week or two of the old and familiar before you have a new paint job to scratch?" The other pilot rolls their eyes and grabs a magazine they'd been eyeing before turning to head out.
"He's been trying to find someone to petition to switch squads with him," she explains should anyone be looking their way. A glance over her shoulder to the retreating officer before she shakes her head and meanders to plop down into a seat next to Eva, pulling a dogeared paperback out of a lower pocket as she does so.
Van sets down the holoband before him and shakes his head, holding up one hand, "Let's not get hasty, Asa. I just said I'm not cut out for battleships. A cutter or a cruiser would do me fine. Or better yet, a fighter squadron." At least the words come out accompanied by a faint smile. As Isolde bumps into Eli's table, he glances past her to the bearded one, offering a polite little nod along with Isolde's apology. The crochet needles and thread in a bowl draw a curious glance, and then he chuckles a little wanly at Neimec's explanation, "Having a squadron called the Argonauts on the ship is already odd enough without being one myself." And then he explains a little, "One of the squadrons at Triton was the Argos too."
"Are you apologizing to the chair, or to me?" says Eli to Isolde without looking up from his page. A few seconds later, his eyes drift up, but his head stays tilted down. The only indicator of how he's feeling about the whole interaction is the tiniest ghost of a smile.
He tenses a bit as his blissfully empty table suddenly fills. He exhales through his nostrils and almost, almost grunts. There's a sigh of resignation as he bookmarks his book and sets it down. It's time to Engage With People, apparently. He doesn't look entirely enthused with the prospect. "Is this the part where we go around the table and tell two truths and a lie?"
"Well, I had intended to apologize to the occupant of the chair, but since there isn't an occupant, I suppose my apology can pass along to you." Isolde flashes Eli a dimpled smile that meets and doubles his own ghostly offering. She glances over her shoulder to Van as he engages with Niemec, and she arches her brows. "You're trying to transfer squadrons? Isn't that a little hasty?" Her gaze flickers back to the other table, and she offers Niemec and Eva both quick smiles of greeting -- the latter being given a slight nod since they only had that one interaction in the officers' berthings. Eli's suggestion draws a snort. "Oh no... ice breakers... team building exercises..."
Eva doesn't even look over, she just scoots so that Niemec can slide in beside her. She does give the unknown face another once over, before she starts getting herself in order. She's already started work on what looks like a doily, and she gets to work as soon as she's comfortable, hands moving without her even having to look at the book, which, it turns out, is a book of patterns. She returns the greeting from Isolde, offering a smile to Van, before she looks over to Eli, glancing at the Tauron woman beside her first, "I'm great at planking. The curtain matches the drapes. I particularly enjoy eating the brains of dead animals." That was the suggestion, right?
"If only their squad commander was named Jason, but no. Leonese gal named Marie last I checked." Niemec speaks easily after a sip of coffee, setting the mug aside. Within reach, but not at risk for being knocked over. Can't risk the precious caffeine! Dark eyes slide to Isolde and there's a small shake of her head. "I'm quite happy in the Wolfpack. Twinkle-Toes out there," no indication if it's his actual callsign or just what she's referring to him ask, "wants into a squad that already has the Mark IIs." The woman is lifting her book, but then there's mention of the game. She's about to say something to Eli, but Eva's cut in. There's a quiet 'snerk' sound from the Tauran. "Oh, I do hope the curtain and the drapes is the lie. I'd just have to add it to my list of things to prove..." Head tilts side to side. "Or disprove."
Van grimaces slightly at the 'suggestion' of two truths and a lie, reaching out to touch the holoband again, although he doesn't draw it on. He too shakes his head at Isolde, although he frowns thoughtfully at Niemec, "I thought the Mark Is were just there as hanger queens. I didn't know they were actually assigned to a squadron. I suppose that even the best supplied units aren't perfectly supplied though." Looking between Eva and Niemec at the discussion of hair color, he shakes his head again, although this time it seems to be in resigned amusement.
"Fair warning. If you do a trust fall with me, I'm going to let your ass hit the floor," Eli drawls. It's too early for anyone to know whether or not he's serious or that's just dry humour. He sips his coffee slowly and deliberately and leans back in his chair. He doesn't engage in the other half of the conversation, and instead just observes his uninvited tablemates with the passiveness of a scientist observing colourful birds in the treetops.
"Hey... a ship is a ship is a ship," Isolde says in response to Van. Then Eli's honest response causes her to burst into that bright laughter that has her wrapping her arms lightly across her chest. "Warning noted," she says, shaking her head. "I personally hate those... and it isn't even a trust thing... giving into falling? Accepting a loss of control? Oh, Gods no." She leans back in her chair, half-turned to engage the neighboring table. "When they compiled the Battlestar Project teams, our team leader tried to do that. It was definitely not working in his favor. I think we only became a team to rally against team-building exercises." The offered lies and truths from Eva has her gaping playfully. "You eat brains too, huh?"
Eva looks back at Niemec, her voice thoughtful, "To be fair, I can see where he's coming from. I'd feel more comfortable with the Mark II's, too. I know they say they've fixed all of the loopholes, but I'd honestly be a bit worried to be in a ship I knew the Cylons had tampered with at some point. And, ships they are still using. It's easy enough to tell ships apart when we're all on the desk, but in the middle of a firefight, it's going to get dicey trying to tell ships apart, especially if your DRADIS goes down." She holds up a finger, "Also, you can come by the head at 05:45." That is definitely to the Tauran woman. And in answer to Isolde's question, "I eat anything I can catch."
"Only temporarily. There's a few gaps here and there while the others roll off the assembly lines. I'm sure the Argos will have all their Mark IIs before we even ship out. He-" and it's clear, by her glance, that she means the Lieutenant she'd been talking to on her way in, "is just an impatient frakker." To Eva, there's a tilt of her head and a shrug. "Maybe, but he keeps fussing that he'll be too slow. Vipers jocks, y'know?" Nope, she's not looking at Van when she says that... even if she is smirking, just a wee bit. "Either way, I'm not changing squads. I'm quite happy in Wolfpack." Helps to be in the CAG's squad, to boot. She lifts her mug for a drink, but pauses before the sip; eyes glimmering in amusement. "0545? It's a date." And then it's a long sip of coffee and eyes falling to the book. Hers? Seems to be some piece on Caprican philosophy.
Van shakes his head at Isolde's agreement with Eli, "You'll never make it as a pilot or ECO, Asa," By his light tone, he's teasing her, "you can't learn to fly if you're afraid to fall." Niemec's commentary about Viper jocks draws a very old-fashioned look from the J.G., and he shakes his head, "What's the point of going slow if you can go fast, Squeak?"
"Am I surrounded entirely by pilots? Someone surely looked up my own personal definition of hell and decided I needed to experience it." Despite his bellyaching, Eli doesn't stand and leave or drop back into his book, so it's safe to say he's just bitching for its own sake.
Isolde looks between Niemec and Eva, brows arched slightly. Then she starts to grin like she's caught on to something. It is a brief moment, and she clears her throat and collects her own water bottle off the table from where they were holobanding just a few moments ago. Then she snorts at Van. "Stop trying to change my career. I'm here with the IT department, not to join your crazy pilot cult." She smiles before she takes a swallow of water, and then looks over toward Eli again. "Oh, no... no... I'm a tech. I work on Galactica's computers. I just happen to get thrown in with these crazy people now and then. So, I hope you will find me a shining light of logic amidst all these NAFODs."
Eva nods in completely agreement with Niemec, the woman's voice offering no arrogance, only commiseration, "Oh, believe me, I know." She gives the Tauron a wink, before she glances down at her hands, switching to the next row of stitches, "Sadly, your current complement of admirers has an interloper." She says that with humour, of course, as Isolde introduces herself. "Viper, Raptor, Viper." She offers, as she points from Van, to Niemec, to herself. "From the tone of voice, certainly not in the air wing, but not arrogant enough for marines. And she" indicating Isolde, "has been around since the beginning, so you'd have met her if you were in engineering. So that leaves medical or command." She glances around the table, "Did I miss anyone? Oh! Cookies. If you are on the Galley crew, that would almost be serendipitous."
"How do you feel, Van, when we Raptors just jump from one place to another while y'all gotta schlep along?" Niemec's features shift into an amused expression. "Someday, I'm sure, someone will shove me behind the stick of a Viper and once I get past the horror of it having been over a decade since I last did so, I'll actually enjoy it. Then you all can mock me and buy me a beer." She's having a good enough time, really. One leg is crossed over the other, but certainly not in a ladylike fashion. Nope, that knee is angled out and everything. Balancing book in one hand, she leans back with coffee in the other. "Or maybe he's a backseater. They love to bemoan the plight of being stuck with us pilots." There is, however, a wink for Eli. "Antonie Niemec. Yes, Raptor pilot."
Van starts to gesture toward Isolde at Eli's question, but she speaks up for herself, "I'm sorry, I thought you said something about becoming an ECO." Smiling faintly, he nods as he's introduced as 'Viper,' because well... to some degree, he is what he does, just like everyone else on Galactica. The Picon man nods along with Eva's process of elimination, "Could be a different section of engineering... maintenance? But definitely not deck crew or tech support." Niemec's question for him draws a faint shrug, "I feel like I'm being used wrong if I'm being sent far enough out that the Raptors get to jump there." His faint smile flashes back into the corners of his mouth, and he nods, "Don't get me wrong. I enjoyed my time flying Raptors. If I ever had to go anywhere low and slow, I'd rather be in a Raptor than a Viper. I just don't see the point in going low and slow unless you're picking someone up or dropping them off." And then he introduces himself more fully on the heels of Niemec's introduction, "Van Newton."
The bearded man gives Eva a withering look for the suggestion he's galley crew. "Medical," he says. "I'm a surgeon, not a baker. Doctor Eli Cadmus. I would have let you all keep guessing, but I have a feeling I wouldn't like your guesses." He glances around the table in turn, then looks to Isolde. "Tech. I hope the diagnostic equipment is up to snuff before I actually have to use it."
"I said I could be an ECO. But, I can be anything." No ego there, either. Isolde's bright laughter is back at the combination of Van's faint smiling words and Eva's additional information about the innocuous techy. "Isolde Asa, but I have recently been responding instinctively to 'Hey, you with the tablet.'" When he mentions the medical equipment, she nods. "I was just in medical yesterday... no, wait... day before." It is too early in this for days to be blurring together, but when you moonlight, it is like you have multiple versions of yourself running around. "They seemed to all check out. Now, I'm not an expert with medical equipment, but I can figure most stuff out if it has wires and at least one indicator light." She dimples then. "You know, Eli... my sister has always said you can tell a surgeon by his hands..." Belatedly she looks at Niemec. "We have to mock you before we can buy you a beer, or is that not a requirement?"
Eva sees Eli's look, and offers him her sunniest, most winning smile. Her voice is as smooth as ever, though the Hibernian accent, to those who are familiar with the woman's voice, is quite a bit thicker than usual, "That's too bad, Doctor Eli Cadmus. I've found that some of the best people on a ship are the ones that are doing the jobs everyone else thinks is beneath them." She nods to Isolde, despite the fact that the comment was not intended for her, "Soft, not a callous in sight? Well groomed nails, perfectly buffed?" She does not introduce herself.
"Just imagine how dull life was for those Viper pilots pre-war. Half-hoping for a war to break out somewhere." It's a teasing tone the Tauran pilot offers Van. "The buying beer is required, the mocking is not." Niemec offers this as a cheerful aside to Isolde. "And if there's no mocking, I may even buy a round in return." See! She can be very charitable. She does, however, give Eli a longer look over the top of her book. "We may be seeing one another once we get rolling in this thing. SAR and medical flights are my specialty." There's a look over towards Eva and a bit of a quirk to her brow. What she does, however, is lean in to look into the redhead's basket. "What are you making?"
"A couple of months into a siege, a good cook is pretty valuable, Doctor Cadmus." Van lets that sit for a beat, then adds, "Almost as valuable as a doctor." He shakes his head at Isolde's question to Niemec, "I think the beer is supposed to be an apology for 'making' her fly a Viper." And then Van adds to Eva, "I don't know, if I'm going to have someone's hands in my chest cavity, I'm pretty sure that I want them to be clean, soft, and well-groomed." And then he looks back to Niemec, "To be fair, sir, I was a Raptor pilot pre-war, so I don't know. I was less than a month out of Viper training when the toasters kicked the war off." A look is shot back to Isolde, "Oh... mock, definitely mock. It's absolutely worth having to buy the round yourself."
The suggestion that he might be some kind of snob breaks Eli's stony face. He laughs, full and incredulous. He shakes his head and bites his lip. "Yes, I'm an arrogant doctor who thinks things are beneath him. Are we going to play 'guess the colony' now?" He drains the rest of his coffee and scratches the side of his head before addressing Niemec. "Likely. Shitstorm medical emergencies are my specialty." And just in case anyone doubts he's actually a doctor, he presents his hands and tugs at the sleeves like a magician preparing for a card trick. There's nothing in the story of his hands that suggests he's lying. "I'm not knocking cooks," he says to Van. "I'm just not one. Really, really not one. You'd need medical if you ate my cooking." Wry, that.
Isolde actually brightens at the sound of Eli's laughter -- oh good, people do still laugh. "See, I'm not allowed to think doctors are arrogant, or my arrogant doctor sister will transfer onto the Galactica just to give me a piece of her mind." Wait until she finds out that one Jia Asa's transfer papers are already being processed. She grins to the pilots around her, and then leans into her chair, it now turned more to the other table. She peeks over when Eli offers his hands, and she shakes her head. "With those hands, I'll definitely hope you're my doctor." And if there's any innuendo there, Isolde is totally oblivious to it. She looks back to Van. "Well, you best start buying Niemec beer, Newton."
Eva's tone is flat, as she looks back over a Eli. "No, I don't give a frak what colony you're from. What I do care about, is whether or not you're a **hat, and you, Doctor Eli Cadmus, strike me as an **hat." She puts down her needles, and continues, "What I think, is that all of us are in this together. What I think, is that we all have the same job, and that is to keep each an every one on this ship, and, to the best of our ability to keep every member of the colonies, alive. And if that's the job we're supposed to be doing, then there's not a single job on this ship that is beneath any of us." She rises from her seat, picking her bowl back up, her body language as casual as ever, "It's a doily. It's for your new raptor." Because, apparently, this is a thing in Eva's, and, gods help her if she doesn't kill the Hibernian first, soon to be Neimec's world. "Excuse me." Eva pushes in her chair, tucking her things back under her arm, before she heads back towards the hatch.
"If there's free beer to follow, I welcome all forms of mockery." Niemec flashes a grin towards Isolde and Van both. Her expression does sober by a measure at Eli's words. "Done a number of evacs without a doc or corpsman on board. I may be handy at first aid and basic medic skills, but sometimes you're just hoping you can keep 'em alive long enough to get to a proper professional." The Tauran woman takes a slow breath as Eva begins on her rant. She starts to reach out to the Hiberian, but the other woman is getting to her feet. She blinks a few times, though it's unclear whether it's at the mention of the doily or the pilot departing. "Excuse me." Draining the rest of her coffee, Antonie pushes back her chair and gets to her feet. The book is returned to a pocket and the mug abandoned as she makes to follow.
Van leans forward to inspect the hands as they're presented, "Definitely not deck crew." He lifts his own, which are in rather good shape themselves, carefully-trimmed nails on the end of long fingers. "Not that I'm one to talk." Accepting the doctor's commentary on his cooking ability, Van is about to respond to Isolde's commentary on Eli's hands when she nominates him to buy beer... and Eva snaps at the doctor. His own amusement fades, and Van sits back in his seat, "Sir... I think you're..." but Eva is already getting up, and Van shakes his head, grimacing to himself. He glances to Niemec, arching an eyebrow in question and looking after Eva, somewhere between 'you got this?' and 'you want help?'
Eli doesn't defend himself. He just arches an eyebrow at Eva's tirade. One could even suspect that he wants to provoke that kind of reaction in people. He doesn't say anything until Eva's out of earshot, then, "That's an awful lot to infer from someone not wanting to be mistaken for a cook." Isolde's totally innocent statement gets a sidelong look and a ghost of a smile. If he's insulted by any of this, he's not showing it. Instead he says to Van, "Clearly we should have a hand modelling competition. Winner wins a manicure."
Isolde looks around between Eva, Niemec, and Eli. It is like the tech missed something. Maybe she didn't put too much stock into the question about colonies, or perhaps she just assumed it was part of the good-natured joshing. She leans back a bit, watching Niemec and Eva get up, and then she purses her lips thoughtfully. Her own look of concern follows after Niemec and Eva, but she doesn't appear to be chasing after either. She is so focused on the departures, however, all she gets from Eli's statement is 'wins a manicure,' and that is enough to make her blink back at the two men.
As she catches sight of Niemec coming along behind, the redhead offers, "Antonie, it's fine." Eva, seemingly having vented whatever she was feeling, but she's still headed for the door, "You could use the break, I've seen you crack open that book half a dozen times." Eva pauses, as a trip move through the hatch and then she slips out, shifting her bowl from one side to the other.
There is a quick shrug for Van's look, but then Niemec is being stopped at the threshold by Eva's offer. She purses her lips a bit, watching the redhead go. Knuckles tap at the hatch lightly before she turns to return to the others and reclaim her seat. "I'll go check in on her in a bit."
"Why stop at hands? Apparently I'm perfect as I am, except I should grown my hair out a little more." Van keeps his attention squarely on Eli when he speaks, smothering any smile that might try to gather at the corners of his mouth. "And yeah." He finally looks aside to watch Eva depart, then looks back to Eli, "Some tempers are wound rather tightly on the ship. I'm pretty certain that it will take actually facing the toasters for us to all really pull together." Niemec gets a little nod as well.
Eli rubs his chin and continues to seem unbothered by the whole situation. He quirks a grin at Van's comments and lifts one shoulder, then lets it fall. "I don't mind being a punching bag until people actually have something to punch." It's fleeting, but there's actually something warm in his expression as he says that. "I honestly don't give a frak if I'm not everyone's friend. I'm just here to patch you up if you come to me with your guts spilling out."
Isolde narrows her eyes at Van when he speaks of his perfection. "You're letting that whole thing go to your head, Peep." She then grabs her holoband, hooking it on to the edge of her undershirts. She stands from her seat, carefully tucking it back in under the table. "I suppose that I should get my ass back to work." She looks over to Eli, and the innocuous little tech offers him a small, yet dimpled smile. "We don't always need friends, but we definitely need allies. That's what this whole thing is all about... the Colonial Forces." Then she shakes her head, and gives Van's shoulder a nudge as she passes. "Your Viper should be done in a couple hours, by the way." She offers Niemec a flash of a smile, and then looks to Eli. "Nice meetin' you, Eli." Aw, she actually seems genuine about that, too.
Settling back into her seat, Niemec begins to reach for her coffee... then remembers she finished it. There's a hint of an 'ah well' shrug to herself before she pulls her book back out and settles in to read, instead. There's a nod for Isolde as the tech prepares to depart. "Some folks around here are... sick and tired of being the punching bag. And now they've got to work alongside the people who treated them as such. Under those people, in some cases. There's gonna be tensions until we get out there and bloody ourselves."
Van runs a hand back over his bristly hair at Isolde's response, "I have to. It's the only imperfect part." He rocks easily under the tech's nudge, "Thank you for shepherding it through the queue." And then he looks back to Eli, "Personally, I would rather our medical personnel not be bruised or bloodied when they might need to keep me from dying." Gray eyes shift over to his fellow pilot, "If anyone who has really seen what the toasters can do thinks that way, they weren't paying attention." For all his easy joking, the pilot's tenor hardens and sharpens as he continues, "Did you know there was a Panthers-Buccaneers game going on when the toasters attacked? They firebombed the stadium. And made sure the wireless was still carrying sound."
"I'm not sure getting into the fray is going to fix those particular problems," says Eli of Niemec's comment. He shakes his head at Van's comment. "Well aren't you a cold smack of water in the face. Now I'm depressed and want to drink. And then I'll be drunk when I need to do surgery and will sew a lower intestine to a lung. And it'll be all your fault." He wags a finger. Then, as Isolde leaves, he lifts a hand. Once she's gone, he murmurs, "Not many people've ever said that and meant it."
Isolde makes her exit with waves to the other three, and she's bouncing off to go probably fix something. Wait until she gets to the tech shop and learns she's going to be repairing showers in the head all afternoon. Glee.
"There's a lot of colonies, Newton, that haven't experienced the war firsthand yet. For them it's been things on the newswire and maybe a sortie here and there." Niemec shifts back in her chair, drawing a foot up onto the edge so the heel catches. She leans against her raised thigh and balances the book on the table before her. Maybe not terribly comfortable, but she seems well enough. "I hear there's drinks at the officer's club later on," she offers as an aside to Eli. It's followed, after a page is turned, with: "Fighting side by side will at least cool some tempers. Not all of it is due to colonial differences. Some of it comes of people chomping at the bit to get involved and others who just came off troublesome assignments. They're already riled up and sitting here, cooling their heels... it isn't helping."
Van shrugs helplessly at Eli's words, evidently not particularly sorry for throwing cold water on the discussion, "It's the reality of the world we live in. The toasters want us all dead, except the ones they want to torture, and the sooner people realize that, the sooner we'll come together and actually stand a chance of kicking their shiny metal asses." Looking back to Neimec, he adds, "I know, sir. That's why I keep telling people what it's like. That photo on my bunk? That's Monique and Becca, my sister and her wife. They were at the Colonial Fair when the Cylons attacked. I'm anxious to get out there and clock some more toasters, but I also don't want to do it with people who don't trust each other flying on my wing."
"The important thing is to not conflate trust with like. I've been around a lot of people - even in bad situations who I would never choose to be near in any other circumstance. But I know if my ass was on the line, they'd protect it. Peace and harmony isn't required, just mutual respect." Eli doesn't seem to be talking in hypotheticals, as a man who hasn't seen action. "When things get bad, we'll either all come together, or we'll die. I'm hoping on the first."
There's a tilt of head towards Eli. "We don't have to get along off the clock, so long as we all do our jobs. And I doubt they'd have sent most of us here, to this particular ship, if they didn't trust us to do just that. If not?" One of Niemec's shoulders rises and falls, though she doesn't look up from the page she's reading. "They'll be reassigned, mustered out, or whipped into shape. You've got to give folks a chance to prove themselves, Newton."
Van nods at Eli, "Right, but tempers flaring before we even see combat..." He shrugs, "I'm sure the CAG and the CO are on it. I know the XO will be." Perhaps because the XO is a Picon. Perhaps the pot needs to talk to the kettle about its tanning routine. His brows raise slightly at Niemec's words toward him, "Me?" He doesn't argue the point beyond that, however, letting out a breath and shaking his head, "Oh yeah. I've got Seas of Fire loaded up on some of these 'bands I borrowed. If anyone wants to do some teambuilding that doesn't involve trust-falls or twenty-questions."
"I don't like making predictions. I am, however, gonna hope for the best. But I'm not going to tiptoe around anyone either. That just makes things build up. Better that it comes out in short bursts." So, Eli is playing the role of 'therapy anger punching bag'? Maybe. He stands and collects his empty mug and book. "See you around. It's a small ship."
There's a glance up from her book again as Eli prepares to depart. Niemec gives the man a quick nod. "We'll see what comes of it. I'm chalking it up to being all shoved into a tin can at once while different colonies still hold grudges." Like her own. "And not having much constructive to do yet." The woman looks over to Van at his offer, giving a bit of a shrug. "Reminds me. I keep meaning to go over the holobands in the Ready Room. See what they have loaded in so far."
Van nods slowly at Eli's words, but the last statement causes him to blink in surprise, "Small... ship..." He shakes that off, "I hope you won't take offense, but I'll try to avoid seeing you on-duty, Doctor Cadmus. I just got out of the hands of the docs." Van then nods to Niemec as well, "I figured they would be set aside for official training exercises, sir. That's why I borrowed a bunch of these personal holobands for Seas."
"No offense," says Eli with a bit of a wry grin. "Especially considering my specialty is combat trauma." He smacks his book against his hand, lifts a hand, then heads for the door.
"Small ship as compared to a major city or an entire colony... Or, I suppose, the docks themselves." Sure, there can be comparisons! Even if the ship itself is, well, rather massive. Niemec shakes her head slightly as Eli departs. The woman looks back down to her own book and is quiet for a time. "Honestly, I'm not sure I'd fare well in a sailing game. Might be a Picon thing. But I want to see what sort of training programs the ones in the Ready Room have. I keep forgetting to check."
Van nods to Eli before focusing back on Neimec, "I was actually thinking that unfamiliar territory might be good for teamwork. No one will be worrying about showing off, they'll all be learning the basics. But I suppose that might put me at an unfair advantage." Shaking it off, he gathers up his borrowed holoband, "Even if I could, I wouldn't try to force anyone to play though."
"It's possible, but some folks..." Niemec's shoulders round as she turns a page, but she does glance up to the younger pilot. "Myself included, actually. Having to perform new things in front of a crowd? Can be a bit nerve-wracking. We may be best suited to finding things anyone can participate in, without too much a learning curve." She taps a finger against the book's cover. "We should see how this social the men upstairs are planning goes. Maybe organize a triad night or something. I say we focus on Wolfpack before trying to charm the rest of the ship."
Van lifts his eyebrows at her suggestion, "Yes, I suppose that is a good point." The reminder of the social draws a faint groan from the man, and he rubs at his scalp again, "Right. I should probably go wash up. I've been sitting here in my greens working with the holoband for too long."
"Haven't decided if I'll just roll in like this or break out the duties. It's the Officer's Club, so it could go either way. Might be an opportunity to kick back and drink... Or sip at a cocktail awkwardly under the gaze of the big boys." Niemec doesn't seem quite as put-out by the idea of the social, but it's clear she's not going into it with a 'wooo party!' mindset. The woman does push back in her seat, marking her page as she gets to her feet. "Either way, I think I'm going to check in on Thorne. See how she's doing."
"Good luck with her, sir. Seems like the squadron might have its share of hotheads. Then again, that might be a good thing as far as actual performance goes." Van gathers up the cords that were connecting his holoband to Isolde's, rolling them around his left hand, and then rises himself.
"I figure for Vipers, it's probably sought out." Niemec tucks the book into her pocket and ducks on out into the corridor.