2236-12-16 - Packing In

A group of Marines -- new to //Galactica// and not so new -- chat over food.

Date: 2236-12-16

Location: Starts at Enlisted Berthings, then moves to Mess Hall, Deck 8, Battlestar //Galactica//

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 924

Jump to End

Another day, another Raptor ride, and a new ship assignment. Dundonnell finally makes his way up Enlisted Berthing carrying a standard issue duffle bag. He's a fairly large fella, and while not the tallest around, he's broad in the arms and shoulders with a shiny dark brown bald head. Dressed in Marine khaki fatigues, Dun pauses in the hatchway to look around before he starts walking in to find the bunk he's been assigned to. The duffle gets dropped on the floor and he tries the locker to see if it'll open, or be a bitch.

Geoff also has his bag, the same as everyone else's. and he happens to head for a bunk not far from Dundonnell. Or maybe it can't really be called happenstance, since he has a last name that ends in C, not far off from the other enlisted man's name. First thing Geoff does is plop his bag on his bunk and go through the side pocket to come up with a packet of smokes. But more rummaging doesn't seem to result in what he wanted to find. He swears under his breath, then turns around to look at Dundonnell. "Got a light? I can't find mine."

Nope, won't open. Must be already claimed so double checking his bunk number, Dundonnell tries the locker right next to it. Bingo, it opens right up and is empty. He turns to pick his duffle bag up and toss it onto the lower bunk that's closest whether it's his or not, and starts to open it up so he can begin to unpack his stuff.

Dun turns his head, "No, don't smoke." Geoff's duffle is noted before he shakes out a pair of fatigue pants and folds them neatly to put away. "Unless I get lucky enough to find me a big fat, good cigar. You newly arrived too? Where from?"

"Mmhm," Geoff answers, one corner of his mouth tight at the disappointment of being denied a smoke. He tosses the packet on the bed and goes to open his locker instead. "From Caprica. Name's Geoff. You?" He starts stuffing things from his duffle into his locker.

Dundonnell gives a nod to that and thrusts out a hand, "Lachlan Dundonnell, but folk call me Dun, or Squish." If the hand is accepted, hs shake is brief and firm but nothing over powering. "From Aerilon, originally, but I came by way of the LCV Valkyrie before she got blown to hell over Caprica. I don't remember seeing you on her, though."

His attention goes back to unpacking his bag to stow his gear. Clothes mostly, a small stack of pictures bound with a rubber band, a small box, and other odds and ends.

Geoff lets out a laugh at that. "'Squish,' huh? That the sound us little people make under your big-ass boots?" He sounds in good humor, squatting as he stacks up clothes in the locker, slips in a reading device. "Nah, I didn't get blown to hell," he confirms, then looks back over his shoulder. "Aerilon, huh? So farmer or miner?"

"Squish because ... I don't like spiders. I do stomp their ugly little asses." Big, bag, bald, black man who gets the creeps from spiders. Go figure. "Neither. Rancher. I used to be a branding boss. I like smack'n 'm with a hot iron." Into his locker goes his boot polishing kit along with his toiletries. "What'd you do before the war?"

That unexpected answer makes Geoff hoot out another laugh. "Sounds like you got it covered. ...Long as you sleep with your boots on." He turns to give Dun an appraising look, but ultimately he seems to approve of this talk of ranching. "What didn't I do?" is his own answer as he finishes unpacking and flips the locker shut. "Bus boy, bell boy, basically any shitty job encourages someone to call you 'boy,' I did it. And whatever else I needed to to get by in a world full of rich mother frakkers who need somebody to step on."

Geoff gets a sympathetic wince from Dun, "I hate people like that." Rich mother frakkers. "Useless. Some of them become officers, Gods help us. Thankfully some officers are worth their salt or we'd all be up the shitter." The last of his gear is settled in and he leaves the slim stack of photos on the locker shelf rather than putting them up yet. The locker is closed up and sealed after his empty duffle-turned future laundry bag was neatly folded and added last of all. "So, been on a look about yet? I've never been on a Battlestar before."

"Yeah, I'm hoping there aren't too many smarmy rich kids around here, or I don't know how I'm gonna deal," Geoff answers, gaze roving over the walls. "Nah, you wanna go for one?" he offers. "Assuming nobody starts barking about getting back to berths?"

"Sure. I'd like to know where to get some chow." Dundonnell is all set, everything stowed. He takes a good last look around, pushes back the curtain on his assigned bunk and takes a quick looksee to determine if anyone's left anything taped up or tucked in that might be interesting. Nope, all military issue gray blanket and definitely not anything exciting. "Let's go."

Happy to lead the way, Dun heads back towards the hatch to step on out.

Geoff doesn't bother checking. Or maybe he wants to check when nobody's looking. He does however grab that packet of cigarettes. "You got it," he agrees

If you have seen one head or laundry on board a military ship, you have seen them all. That's not very exciting. Dundonnell wanders around checking the ship's directory on the 7th floor landing. A brown finger traces out where the gym and rec rooms are located, making sure that Geoff can easily look as well. "Important places to know." Head and laundry are noted, which way is officer country to mostly avoid going there, and ... "Here we go. Down one deck and foreward to find the mess. Post is also there." Among other things.

A moment later he descends and when on the next level, starts to head for the mess. "All the flavours of synthetic protein and freeze dried everything else reconstituted. Hungry yet?" As for himself, Squish gets himself in line and picks up a tray.

Geoff doesn't seem quite so...studious. Except of people they pass. Those get more interested looks. Otherwise he seems to trust to learning the lay of the land intuitively. With Dun's help, of course. "Please, food I grew up eating was almost as fake," Geoff answers, carelessly grabbing a tray. "Must be way worse for somebody who actually /raised/ food."

"Yeah, ship shit takes some getting used to. Fresh food is something we never lacked for on Aerilon. Sure we have preserved food too, for winter and trail, but even real beef jerky tastes good. I miss it. Hell, I even miss baked beans." Nobody who bunks close to Dun will miss his having baked beans, trust me on that one. He starts getting things piled on his tray - something that passes for meat but is almost certainly not, with gravy on top. A side of mashed potatoes, a bread roll, reconstituted green beans. Or something that looks like it. Hard to say. Then a big glass of iced tea. "So, what's your MOS?" As in his role designation in the Marines. "I'm a rifleman, myself. Wanted to do recon but too many applicants so I couldn't get in."

Geoff chooses his food without particular attention, taking less rather than more for today. "Same," he answers Dundonnell about his role. "They figure I'm just about smart enough to shoot shit that's trying to shoot me."

There's a nod to that. Dundonnell swipes his chit for his meal allowance and goes to find a table. He looks around to see if there are any pretty gals in Marine dress but not seeing anything promising right off, or even a notable knot of Jarheads to join, he picks a table at random and sits on down with his tray and drink. "What's your rank? You been in very long? Maybe served on a Caprica a while before you went Coloniel?"

"Been in about two years," Geoff says, following the lead. "But...I'm not always a good boy so...I don't hold my breath on promotions, much. Made it as far as PFC," he says of the automatic promotion in a tone of faux-bragging. "You? Take your vitamins and get home by curfew?"

Dundonnell bares his teeth in a feral grin, "I -do- take my vitamins and my protein shakes, but I'm not always home for curfew. Still, I've been in almost 3 years now. Corporal, but who the frak knows about promotions and shit? Depends on how fast people keep dying more than time in, I think." He stabs his food with his fork and starts cutting it up. A bite of 'Salsbury steak' or whatever it is supposed to be gets shoved into his mouth and chewed. Dun does manage to wash it down with tea and fork up some green beans before he speaks again, wolfing down his meal. "Lot of my peeps back on the Val didn't make it."

Geoff looks over Dundonnell's physique at this claim of proper nutrition. "Yeah, no shit you drink your protein shakes." He pokes each of the foods on his plate to get an idea of any unexpected textures, then dives in indiscriminately. "Guess a lot of people don't," he comments.

Geoff gets a laugh, "Yeah, I like lots of meat. Raised on it. Protein powder is what I can get out here. Better for my womanly slim figure anyway, lower fat." Dundonnell sits up straight and skims a hand over his flat stomach. Then he's back to killing the food on his tray, "Long as you figure out what you want to be good at, and work at that, then you have something to contribute to the team. Be the best shot, or the stealthiest, or good at EOD, whatever. We got each other's backs." It doesn't take long before he's chasing the last of his gravy and green bean juice with his crust of bread.

"Look, I got everybody's back," Geoff says, scooping up another forkful of mingled culinary travesty. "But only a couple people can be the best at everything. I'm not here to play super-soldier. I'm just a grunt." Only then does he repsond to Dun's joke, eyeing him again. "I don't know what kinda women you got on Aerilon if your figure's womanly," he plays along.

Gustavo moves through the line with the care of the very large man he is, the sort who is conscientious of those who are around him and who he might otherwise unintentionally shoulder-check or step on. His tray is piled high by the time he clears the line, a trio of little mess hall glasses balanced on the edge and a bottled sports drink shoved into one of his thigh pockets. He scans the mess hall, then makes his way over to the nearly-empty table with the pair of Marines at it. As he approaches, he hears the end of the joke, "Haven't you seen their pyramid team?" His voice isn't that bone-shakingly deep rumble many men his size have, but merely a simple bass, "Triska Thorne is almost my size." He nods down to an empty chair at the table, "Do you mind?"

Dundonnell laughs again, "Big titty feisty little ones who kick ass. Best kind." Jarhead talk. Damn Devil Dogs. He takes a drink of his nearly demolished glass of tea. "I'm not the best at anything, but I'll keep trying. Keep me away from demolitions though unless you want to kiss your ass goodbye. I'm about as good at that shit as I am at flying a Viper."

"I'm going to seconds. I'll be right back." Dundonnell has a high calorie workout routine to maintain. He gets up from the table and takes his tray but pauses when Gustavo comes up, "Ooo-rah." -That- for Triska Thorne. A flash of a grin, "Yeah, join us. I'm gett'n seconds." He'll be back in a minute.

Geoff doesn't seem to need seconds. His attention transfers to the even bigger guy talking pyramid. "Lords, they grow everybody in the CF this big? Nobody told me I was gonna be the runt of the litter." He notes Gustavo's insignia while he chews over one of his last bites. "Still, guess that gives me more cover than you, long as you march in first."

Gustavo settles his tray down, taking a moment to set the glasses on the table around its exterior to allow the piled-high plates a little room to relax. The sports drink is set on the table last of all, and then he sits down, "Don't stand on my account. Or slow down from gettin' seconds." The sports drink bottle is raised in salute to the 'ooo-rah,' and the big man nods, "I worry about the little ones." And then he looks over to Geoff, "Not so much. We grow 'em big in the Scorpian Army. Not like the soft little Marines who get carried everywhere they go by Raptors." Humor bubbles behind his quiet words, as well it should, considering he's wearing Colonial Marine insignia.

Geoff lifts his eyebrows hopefully at Gustavo. "Hey, Sarge, you got a light?" he asks. "Or does a Scorpian solider think it's too soft if they don't rub two sticks together?" He's smiling, so he's probably joking. He takes a pack of smokes from a pocket and puts it on the table.

Cate ambles into the mess in her marine duty fatigues, eyeing the food line speculatively as she grabs a tray and approaches it.

Dundonnell comes back a couple of minutes later with his tray refilled with more muck. About the same as he had before, plenty of that 'salisbury steak' with gravy that probably doesn't have any real meat in it, only synthetic protein. Re-constituted green beans, more bread, and another big glass of iced tea, unsweet. He's not /quite/ as tall as Gustavo but he's every bit as broad otherwise, if of the darker persuasion. He retakes his former seat and eyes Gustavo's pins, "Staff." A hand is offered over the table, "Dundonnell, fresh in. Call me Dun if you like. Us two virgins here just got our boots on the deck in the past couple of hours."

"I don't smoke, sorry." Tavo shakes his head, rubbing at a little scratch on his temple with one thumb, then offers up a little smile as he starts to tuck into some sort of steamed vegetables that he has covered in gravy like a heathen. "And if you can't muster up a glare hot enough to start a fire, the Scorpian Army doesn't let you make Sergeant." He takes Dundonnell's hand, not engaging in any sort of pressure-squeeze, "Delgado," which is a joke in Scorpian, given his bulk, "Or Tavo in here, as long as you aren't doing anything that'll get you in trouble." He offers his hand to Geoff in turn, then lifts his free hand when he spots the tall medic, a silent invitation, "Welcome to the shiniest ship on the fleet then. If you make it a week without getting lost, you win a prize."

"Didn't know I was joining the clean air brigade," Geoff says. "I'm gasping." Now that his tray's more or less clean, he puts his fork down and takes Tavo's hand for a shake. "I'm Geoff Courtois, in from Caprica."

Cate sees Tavo's wave while she's on her way to the line and gives him a nod of acknowledgment. Once she's gotten her food, which doesn't take long, she's on her way over to the table. "Hey, Tavo." The other two unfamiliar faces get a friendly nod as well.

Dundonnell only bares his teeth in a grin at Geoff, outnumbered by the health nut Marines. Amused, he digs back into his second meal and sets into demolishing it. "Did I hear you are from Scorpia? Where'd you transfer in from and what's your MOS?" A fork is lifted to say 'hello' for him to Cate, tapping it lightly to his brow, "There's room." He can even scoot over and bump Geoff if there's need to make more room for Cate.

Gustavo shrugs a little helplessly at Geoff, "I like being able to outrun toasters instead of hacking up a lung." He shakes Geoff's hand, then continues disassembling the food on his his overloaded tray and inserting it into his pie hole. He takes a break to nod to Cate, "Doc." A pair of quick gestures with his fork indicate, "Dun. Courtois. They're new." Everyone gets their last name or their nickname, apparently. And then he gestures back to Cate, "Doc." Washing down a particularly big bite with a swallow of some fruit juice, he responds to Dundonnell's question, "Scorpian Army. 57th Brigade. The Cee-Eff doesn't have an Army yet, so I had to take the step down." The big man flashes his teeth in a grin to take some of the sting from his words, "And I'm in Weapons. You gents?"

Geoff lifts his chin in reverse-nod to Cate. "Finally, somebody who's not bigger than me. Hi, Doc." Apparently the name's good enough for him. And he seems to handily ignore the staff sergeant's remarks on the subject of smoking. He puts his hand over the pack. "Rifleman."

"Thanks," Cate says when Dun invites her to sit. She slides into a spot on the bench, listening to Gustavo's introductions. "Cate Rhodes," she elaborates on the nickname. "But Doc is fine too. Nice to meet you." She smiles at Geoff's remark, "I know right? Sometimes it feels like wandering around in the Land of Giant Men or something."

"Doc." Yep, Dundonnell can parrot just fine. He wolfs down more of his meal and chases it around with more iced tea. His mama taught him not to speak with his mouth full. Aren't you glad? Back to Gustavo he looks, "Heavy?" To weapons, "Na, man, you got it inside out. Why be just a mutt army dog, when you can be a supreme -DEVIL DAWG-." He shakes his head and goes back to eating, but points his fork at Geoff, "You need to eat more."

"It's my first day," Geoff argues with Dundonnell. "You can't put me on rancher rations day one. Least let me make a good first impression on everybody before you fatten me up."

Gustavo glances over to Dundonnell, then responds to Geoff, "Not our fault we got good genes." Another plate is cleared and stacked aside on his tray, and he takes a moment to polish off one of the myriad of little plastic cups of juice alongside the tray. The other big man's Marine propaganda gets a snort, "Heavy. Someone had to back up all you leathernecks who don't bother marching and carry popguns." He does, however, nod at Dun's comment to Geoff. "Start with protein powder. Or don't. Not everyone can be built like us. They'd never fit a squad in a Raptor."

Cate smirks at Dun. "Gods, don't get him started on Army vs. Marines," she says with a good-natured eyeroll at Gustavo. "Being smaller has its advantages. You can almost fit into the bunk." The bigger guys, she has no idea how they get any sleep.

Chauncey Enos Bean steps into the mess hall, looking a bit weathered around the edges and more than a little absent-minded despite the direct way he's walking toward the mess line without taking in a single person around him. He steps up, grabs his tray, and starts collecting his usual bits and pieces of his meal. He will probably take notice at some point of the marine gaggle, but he's too busy getting something plopped on his plate.

That fork gets pointed at Geoff again, "Long as we don't have to castrate you, you'll be fine. We'll work it out of ye. 500 pushups after mess is a great start!" Dundonnell grins and goes back to stuffing his maw. Gustavo gets a thumbs up! Nothing like giving each other shit, "Heavy weapons are bad ass, long as you aren't compensating for what you lack, Staff." Dun looks to Cate, "Shove 'til it fits." It can be applied to all sorts of things. He chews his food, making progress.

Geoff puts up his hands. "Hey, I didn't say I /want/ to be a meat mountain," he protests, drinking the water he got himself. But he has to swallow quick so he doesn't choke when he snickers at Dun's advice on fitting into a bunk. "Feel like I've heard that advice before..."

Gustavo beams brightly at Cate, chiming in, "Too late!" He leaves it at that, though, grimacing at her mention of the bunks, "I know, right? What I wanna know is why on a ship this big, they made such small bunks." Or, you know, normal size but surrounded by steel so you can't really overflow them. Grinning over to Dun, Tavo shakes his head, "Quarters are pretty tight. Don't think you'll have to wonder about what I'm packin' for long, whether you want to know or not." He can't resist adding to Geoff's commentary, "That's what she said?" And then he spots Bean and lifts up a hand in greeting.

"Probably because there's so many damn people. Can't turn around without tripping over someone," Cate's grouse is an exaggeration, but not by much. She snickers softly at the veer in conversation, eating her food and not weighing in on that.

Then Bean is turning, and is stepping right toward Tavo like this is some orchestrated habit. He sets down his tray, swings his leg across the bench, and sits down. He only then looks up at the others, nodding soberly. "What did she say?" He asks, glancing to Tavo, and then to Cate at her snickering.

Dundonnell huffs a breath in good humor at Gustavo, "I was on the LCV Valkyrie before she was blown apart over Caprica. I know about tight quarters." Ugh, didn't like that part much. His jaw keeps working on his food, most of his second helpings gone where the first tray of food went. Dun's attention goes to Bean joining them and his black eyes pick out the new arrival's khakis and rank pins, "PFC." with an upnod to welcome the other. He looks back to Cate, "Doc, so what's your MOS? I take it, you are a medic?"

"Not exactly," Geoff laughs in reply to Gustavo. He turns to look as Bean joins the table. "You," he says without preamble. "You gotta have a lighter, right?"

Gustavo shrugs slightly at Bean's question, "I don't know if they used that kind of language back in your day." He gestures around the table, "Dun, Courtois, Doc, Gramps." The last is the addition of Bean, and he pauses a moment, then points to himself, "Tavo." They already know, but it feels odd not to complete the circle. Finally, he takes pity on Bean and answers, "'Shove it 'till it fits.'" Looking back to Dun, he adds, "The old man," no capitals in his voice, so he doesn't mean Lieutenant Hale, "bagged himself a tank last time out."

Cate looks up from her food, a sympathetic look at Dun's tale of the LCV being blown up. Then she glances at Tavo. "You got the other one didn't you, Tavo?" She doesn't sound sure, though, since she was kinda too busy picking up the pieces of Hopper. Dun's question gets a nod. "Guilty." Noticing Bean, she offers a quiet, "Hey."

Bean looks up at Geoff at his quest for a lighter, and he offers what could be a rather wolfish smile. "Only to light the candles at the altar of Apollo." He then produces a very old fashioned book of matches. He offers it out to the newbie with a flick of his wrist. When taken, he greets Dun with a nod of his chin. The PFC -- known as Gramps by most -- looks over at Tavo at his jest, and he snorts slightly. "I used all kind of language back in my day, boy." Tavo and Bean are barely six years apart, for those counting. He then grasps for his cup of coffee, raising it up at the bagging a tank comment, and then taking a sip. Then he looks over to Cate. "Doc... you're looking well-showered and fed today."

Gray appears at the table with a food tray in hand and offers a nod to the group gathered there. "Hey, uh...got room for one more?" he asks, eyeing an empty seat.

"My hero," Geoff says, accepting the matchbook. He takes a cigarette out of the pack under his left hand and puts it in his mouth, striking the match and gratefully inhaling as he gets the thing going. Taking a first drag without a by-your-leave to anyone at the table, he slides the matchbook back on the surface of the table with two fingers. "Why do they call you Gramps?" he asks Bean. "You don't look so old to me."

"Sweet." Dundonnell says by way of reply to Bean bagging a tank, "I hope you got footage. I wanna see it." He finshes off his tray, most of it, and contents himself to drinking his unsweet tea. "What were you using, Gramps?" Everyone wants the storrrriiiieess. There's just a little space left at their table if Gray doesn't mind getting cozy and Dundonnell gives him a nod, "Be our guest. Shove 'til you fit." Amused, he watches Gramps become Geoff's shiny new hero. Dun doesn't look like he cares about some cigarette smoke.

Cate nods to Gray, sliding her tray over a little to make room. "Hey," she greets him lightly, before Bean's statement gets a squinty little grin. "Thanks, uh, I think. Do I normally look un-showered and underfed?" This amuses her. "So if Bean's Gramps, what does that you and Dun here - middle aged?" Nevermind that she's the same age as them. That's beside the point.

Gustavo scoots over slightly as Gray inquires after room, shifting his shoulders to make some more. He goes back to devastating his over-filled meal tray. Taking a moment away from his foot, he nods to Cate, "Yup." Snorting softly at Bean, he shakes his head, draining down another cup of juice. For all of his complaints about smoking, he doesn't bitch about Geoff lighting up, instead noting, "Really, Gramps? That's how you hit on Doc?" He shakes his head at Dun, however, noting, "I don't think anyone got footage. Too busy trying not to be popped." Cate gets a nod, "Yup. Smart enough to know better. Dumb enough to do it anyhow."

"As a respectable gentleman, I'm not allowed to answer that question," Bean says to Cate, flashing her a wide smile. Then he glances to Tavo, snorting slightly. "Mind your brainspace, sir." Then he looks over toward Dun at the question. "RPG... dropped by our original heavy... I just happen to know how to do everything." His smile is earnest. But then he looks over toward Geoff, taking the matchbook. He slips it in his pocket once more. "I enlisted just last year... oldest recruit in my squad. The old jokes haven't ended." He sets down his cup and starts in on dessert first, taking off a good bite of pie. He looks up to Gray, and nods to the seat already being offered. "Tavo will do the introductions again."

Cozy would be nothing new; this /is/ a ship, after all...which makes it easy enough for Gray to slide into place between two of them while everyone slides a few inches so he at least has enough room to fit. "Thanks. I'm Gray Anderson...nice to meet you." With that, he begins digging into his food while listening to the introductions.

A finger is pointed at Gus for what Bean just called him, "You gonna take that 'sir' stuff, Staff?" Oh boy, Dundonnell bares his teeth in a flash of a grin, "I wanna learn to shoot the heavy stuff. Point and shoot, right?" Wait, Gramps has -pie-. Dun eyes it but he already stuffed himself with quite enough. Pie is duly noted for later options. "So, who am I going to need to corner to find out what's going on with current ops?"

Geoff grins at Bean, then looks to Gray, exhaling smoke through his nose. "Gods, I'm gonna spend all day repeating my name, and I'm not gonna remember anybody else's. Now, does that mean I'm self-centered, or just dumb?" He twists in his seat slightly, then makes a face. "Actually I think I'm gonna need a walk. Been cooped up too long today. Nice meeting everybody." He makes a vague wave.

"Yeah, c'mon Tavo, you think Bean here is some kind of cradle-robber? I mean, shit, I've got to be, what... four, five years younger than him? Gods. Get your head out of the gutter, man," Cate plays along with a grin. "If it's any consolation, I suck with names too," she offers to the departing Geoff before looking at Gray. "Cate. Tavo. Bean." And then as if demonstrating her comment to Geoff, she has to pause a sec, squinting at Dun, "Dun?"

Gustavo goes around the table at Bean's prompting, pointing with his fork as he names each person, "Dun, Courtois, Doc, Gramps, Tavo." And then he snorts at Bean, "I work for a living, asshole." And then Dun gets a shake of his head, "Hell no." He grunts at Dun's estimation of what it takes to fire heavy weapons, shaking his head in a pained manner, then notes to Geoff, "The brass apparently figured we don't need nametags. See ya." Finally, he shrugs at Dundonnell, "Cylons are giving the Taurons hell. We drop straight into the nasty when we need to, kick toaster ass, and then get pulled back here. War without the mud." With all that to say, he doesn't have time to respond to Cate verbally, but he does snort a chuckle at her response.

"I only date women two years younger than me, at most." The PFC winks to Cate good-naturedly before he looks back over toward Tavo. "Whatever you say, sir," Bean replies. Then he nods his farewell to Geoff, feeling like he made a friend... or something like that. He then digs into his pie, eating several bites as he listens to the buzz around him. He does look up when he's introduced, waving a fork in greeting.

"Nice to meet you." Gray offers right before he shoots a grin back at Geoff, partly in thanks for the introductions. "He makes it sound like you can't be both at once," he says as he begins trying to make a dent in his food while Goeff gets up. Of course, the the 'sir' games continue...and Gray nearly facepalms.

Geoff gets a finger tap to Dun's brow for goodbye, "Catch ye later." The antics of the others are entertaining. Cate gets a nod, "Yeah, or Squish." Dundonnell brings his hands together in a sudden, loud SMACK! Snicker at Gus's comeback to Gramps, then sobers up to listen. "Taurons can take a lot of shit, I hear, so it must be really nasty. I was on Picon, after they trashed it. It was bad." A finger gets pointed at Gramps, "You aren't too old to get yourself a blanket party." Dun grins, but that'd be Gus's call to make for that sir shit, not his!

Cate smirks at Bean. "Your loss, old man." Then she adds to Tavo's commentary on the operational status. "Some of the other platoons are down on the line. We got the ... long straw, I guess." Dun's comment about Picon gets a serious look for a moment before she's asking Gray, "You just get here... Anderson, was it?"

"You're obviously losin' your marbles, Gramps. You've forgotten everything you learned in basic." Tavo taps his broad chest, speaking slowly, but still with a voice of amusement, "Sergeants, are 'Sergeant.' Or 'Sarge.' Occifers are 'sir' because otherwise we offend their delicate sensitivities." He rolls his shoulders, starting to nurse his sports drink, "And only two years? Limits the options too much." Nodding to Cate, the big man shrugs again, "Yeah. I'm okay with the long straw. It's warm up here, and they've got warm showers and enough chow."

"I'll mourn with dignity and pray to Aphrodite for guidance," Bean offers to Cate. "I'm sure that this, too, will pass." He pats his fist against his chest meaningfully. Then he looks to Tavo, and then after Geoff, and then back to Tavo. "I was supposed to learn something in basic?" He looks bewildered. Then he returns to his pie. "I prefer the average straw..." Then he finishes up the pie, and pushes the plate aside so he can actually start eating his dinner.

"Yeah, just transferred in." Gray responds as he munches on the food-like substances which have been issued to him. "I was on Caprica previously." His accent, however, doesn't /quite/ line up with standard Caprican. "And I'll take the long straw, too. Not that I don't want to recycle some toasters, but..." Shrug. "/Not/ getting the short straw is nice once in a while." Bean then gets a smile. "That's what I was told, too. I /think/ I came out knowing which way to point my rifle..."

Dundonnell isn't adding anything to the conversation at the moment. He drinks his tea and listens to the others, studying Gray since he's the newest to join them. He rolls his head around on his neck until his vertebrae crackle and pop, then he gets to crunching some ice now he's tea is gone.

Cate smirks briefly at Bean's remark about Aphrodite, but mostly is listening to Gray. She nods to him, then chimes in. "I'm just not so sure that being the ones thrown into the fire in emergencies left and right is so much better than holding a post on the line." A little shrug there, then she remembers what she was going to ask before. "Where were you on Picon?" she wonders to Dundonnell.

"Maybe not in Marine boot, Gramps." He finishes off the main course, wiping his mouth with a paper napkin, then nods to Gray, "Punching toasters is good. But don't worry, we'll get the short straw soon enough." Cate's commentary gets a heavy shrug, "I'm okay playing fire brigade. We're going to be dropped in the shit anyhow, might as well drop in on it instead."

Bean looks up at the news of the new guy being from Caprica. He squints slightly, looking thoughtful. "Caprica City?" Being also from Caprica himself, he's curious... particularly if he's got another street kid at his table. He offers up his coffee cup in a small salute. "I already knew that..." He then eats some of the veggies on his plate, mixing it up with the gravy of the meat product. He nods agreeably to Tavo's words, but does not offer a verbal reply.

"Went to university there. Well, /started/ university there." Gray chuckles at the memory. "Then I went to too many parties and woke up on academic suspension and without a return ticket home. But I grew up on Sagittaron...Bean, right?"

Dundonnell looks over to Cate, "Mostly worked out of Queenstown by the end of my stint there. Initially, my new unit was sent in to aid Hyperion but by the time we arrived, there wasn't anything left. The Cylons took out the levees. So, was busy evacuating the few survivors and routing necessary supplies." He shakes his head slowly, "It was awful." His baritone is subdued, remembering the nasty shit he saw there.

Gustavo looks vaguely wistful at the mention of university, but Dundonnell's story causes him to nod, "I heard it was bad there. And Caprica City. And Tauron. Scorpia got lucky, it's too damned humid for toasters and too damned poor to afford them." He's left with only dessert and one drink on his tray, plus half of his sports drink, and he pauses a moment before digging into that. "One of the few times we didn't get shit on."

Cate nods vaguely to the responses from Dun and Gustavo. Her own mouth draws into a thin line, then she mumbles. "Should get going. Nice meeting you guys," to the new ones. "Later," to the old. She picks up her tray, which isn't quite empty and rises.

"Bean," he agrees with a nod. He offers a small grimace about the universities of Caprica City. "Caprican," he says with a nod at himself. He doesn't present like a stuck-up Caprican. He then finishes off his meal, and puts aside his fork and knife so he can focus on the company. He looks over toward Dun as he recounts Queenstown, and he grimaces slightly. He then looks after Cate, nodding slightly. "Later, Rhodey." Then he starts to tidy up his tray a bit. "I got five minutes, and then I'm moving on. I'm old and need sleep."

Dundonnell has finished his tray and his tea himself, "I should get going too. Find out my duty assignments and watch schedule." He gets up from the table and collects his mess debris, "Pleasure to meetcha all." A nod for Gustavo, "Staff." Soon as he's up and the others leaving, there is suddenly a lot more room and shoulder space at the table!

Gustavo frowns at Cate's reaction, studying her for a moment before he nods slowly, "Let me know when you want a rematch. I've been thinking of getting some games together." He goes for the slice of pie that had hidden in the corner of his plate then, working through it mechanically. When he reaches the end, he cleans off the fork by pulling it between his lips, then sets it down, "Berthings are on Seven Aft, Dun. Marine Country is Deck Ten. Can't have anyone getting lost." As folks continue to flee the table, Tavo unfolds his shoulders, relaxing into his full breadth again.

Cate nods absently to Gustavo. "Yeah, sure. Soon as I get cleared back to duty." After the holes from the last mission. She nods to the fellas and then heads out, dumping her tray on the way out.

Gus gets a grin out of Dun, "Geoff and I hit berthings first, then the ship's directory to start our tour. Mess Hall distracted us." Dundonnell cleans his tray off and stacks it where such things goes before he follows Cate on out. Marines have their priorities right. Eating is important.

"Caprica City was...not pretty." Gray offers that without more detailed comment, a sign of a memory he'd rather forget. "Yeah, we can talk about it later..." Then Gus mentions a tour. "Hate to ask, but mind if I tag along? This is actually my first time assigned to one of these ships."

Bean shakes his head slightly at the mention of a tour, smiling grimly. "I'll just ask for direction." Then he starts to stand, grabbing his tray so he can bus his dishes and head toward berthings. He nods to Gray and Tavo as he does. "See ya'll later."

Gustavo nods to Cate and Dun in turn, then adds one for Bean as well, "There are some maps in the Security Center, Ten Aft, back around Frame 250." Look who's all knowing about where things are on the ship. Just don't ask him where anything but those things, the gym, and the hanger are. As the others depart, the big man looks over to Gray, "First time anyone has been assigned to one of these ships. I kind of like it. Big, mean, nasty, and ugly. And designed to break toasters."

"You got it, Sarge," Bean says, tone weighted with teasing. Then he's off, heading to the berthings.

Gray grins back to Gustavo. "Yeah, true, but I'm guessing that the Captain knows his way around..." Even if the idea of higher brass getting just plain /lost/ on their own ship would be amusing...though of course, that would probably be the fault of whatever Lieutenant was assigned to show them around. "And I like the idea. Especially the part about breaking toasters."

"Her." Tavo shrugs heavily, "But yeah. I think that would be bad. Somehow, I think the Marines would get blamed." He nods slowly at the last point, gathering up his sports drink and squaring up his tray with the debris of his meal. "That's why I took a step down and became a Marine. We ran out of toasters on Scorpia and this was the way to find more of them."

"Step down? What were you before?" Gray asks, managing to more-or-less finish his plate. "I was in when everything started, so there wasn't much stepping to be had either way."

"57th Brigade, Scorpian Army. The Trailblazers." Tavo gestures toward his khaki uniform, "Been in almost a decade. I had to step down to the Marines." Hefting his tray a moment and stepping up from the bench seat, he shrugs a little, "Deck Seven and Deck Ten. And the Gym here on Eight. That should about cover you."

Gray nods. "Thanks a bunch. Appreciate it." With that, he's standing to dump the remnants of the food on his tray in the garbage. "Good to have you," he offers. "I'll have to ask you about Scorpia sometime."


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