Kallas touches base with one of his junior pilots. Calliope's fine! Or, well, alive. Which is a //kind// of fine.
Location: Officer's Club - Edson Air Base
Related Scenes: None
Scene Number: 957
Kallas has barely had a moment to breathe since they landed on Canceron, busy getting the air wing situated and playing diplomat with the Canceron brass. But finally he has found the club, where he's parked himself at the bar and has just received a drink from the bartender. He's in his off-duty greens.
One of the perks of being an ensign is having a little more Me Time than your CO. Still, Calliope is only just getting the chance to explore their new temporary home. She's in her off-duties as well, a tank top and green trousers. Perpetually mussed hair made even more frizzy by the tropical climate, she's tied all but a few flyaways back in a loose ponytail. She makes her way to the bar. Pausing when she sees Kallas. Trying to stand up a little straighter. She's slouchy by nature, so it takes some effort. "Oh. Major. Hi."
"Evening Bullseye," Kallas greets amiably. Seeing her straighten up, he grins and waves a hand. "Relax, it's the club." He sips at his drink and then says, "How's the jungle treating you so far?"
It takes Calliope a second to respond to her callsign. A 'blink and you miss it' sort of double-take as she sits down, chuckling softly at the 'relax' part. "I wonder if the bartender knows how to make a Metro cocktail. Hi. Do you know how to make a Metro?" That last to the bartender. Who promises they do. She orders one eagerly, with a wedge of lime, before directing her attention back to Kallas. "The humidity is murder on my hair. Also, Cylons." She quirks a slight smile. "I haven't really had a chance to explore much. Do you think we'll be spending much time with the locals?"
"What's a Metro?" the CAG wonders. He quirks a grin at the hair comment, and waves to his own close-cropped locks. "Not really a problem I can relate to. But I suppose it depends what you mean by locals - the local troops or the civvies in town."
"A Metropolitan?" Calliope answers. "It's awesome, is what it is. Ambrosia, lime and cranberry juice, and...probably not Caprican orange liquor here, alas. The Canceorn spaceports always subbed in local pulpy stuff. Doesn't have as much tart, but you work with what you've got, right?" She leans one elbow on the bar, head tilting at the CAG. "I meant the civvies in town. I've haven't really had a chance to chat up the Edson people. I wouldn't mind seeing a little of Canceron while we're on planet. I haven't ever seen too much of the place outside the spaceports."
"Sounds very...fruity," Kallas concludes, smirking at the explanation. He takes another sip of his own drink, which is pale and amber in a simple shot glass. "We're starting a rotation for passes into town, so you'll get a chance to get out of here eventually. But I don't think we'll be dealing with them too much beyond supporting the local economy with booze money." A brief grin there. "You must be an expert in spaceport food. I'm not sure whether congratulations or condolences are in order."
"I kind of got to like it," Calliope admits. "It was either that or learn to cook for myself on a hot plate, and that was not happening. I like to think of myself as an expert on the worlds' fast food options. Thanks." The last is piped at the bartender as he delivers her cocktail. Which looks very fruity. She gives it a tentative sip, considers, and nods. Approved. "So. What's your read on this place so far? If you can say."
"Hot plate? Man, you're killing me, Bullseye." Kallas grins and teases, "Nothing compares to a nice, home-cooked meal. On a real stove." The latter question gets a little head shake. "They want the mines for the same reason we do, I imagine. Basestar components - hell, maybe even something they need to make more Toasters. I'd guess we're in for a stiff fight." He takes another sip and asks, "How're you holding up? This is your first combat tour, isn't it?"
"I'm doing fine, sir." Calliope says it emphatically, followed by another drink of her cocktail. "I really miss Caprican bartenders, though." Said with a little chuckle. "I mean, I'm still alive, right?" That started as something that was also a half-joke, but doesn't quite land there. She gives a little shrug. "After everything on Tauron, that seems like a win. Kind of. And yeah. This is my first. I wasn't military back on Caprica. Or...at all until a year ago, and most of that was training until I was assigned to Galactica."
"Staying alive is definitely a win," Kallas agrees easily. "I've never been to Caprica though. Hopefully live long enough to try out a bar there sometime." He drains the last bit of his glass. "Not a bad first post though. Right to the flagship."
"It's...well." Calliope hesitates, as to Caprica. Sipping on her cocktail some more and pondering. "It's hard to really say what it's like now. Especially in a place like Cap City, where I'm from. The Cylons were so much a part of everything. And now...not, obviously. The news reports say the fighting there is going well." She tries to sound optimistic. It also doesn't quite land. "Yeah. I mean, I was just glad to get into it anywhere, but the Galactica blows my mind. Still feels too big to fly sometimes. So you've been in the military like...forever, right?"
"Yeah, never thought about what a change that would be. Never had a lot of Cylons around where I came from." Kallas nods then. "Forever and a day, it seems. Enlisted the day I turned eighteen, haven't looked back. He rises from the chair then. "Keep up that fancy flying, Bullseye. Pretty soon you'll be one of the old hands around here." He flashes the young Ensign an encouraging grin.
"I don't know how fancy it is. But thanks, Smackdown. I'll do my best." Calliope gives him a little toast with her cocktail. There's still a decent amount of it left. She's nursing it, and looks like she'll be lingering at the bar awhile yet. She returns his smile with a slight one of her own as he stands.