2237-06-13 - Another Day in the Berths

New arrivals, chatter about Pyramid, Marines and pilots living together, and other madness.

Date: 2237-06-13

Location: Berthings - Vanguard

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 1131

Jump to End

For some, a top bunk is misery. Climbing in at the end of a long day or tumbling out at first bell in the morning. For others, it's a nice respite from having someone doing precisely that over your head or banging about when you're trying to get some shuteye. There's the added bonus of a bit of extra headroom. Astraea's bunk might be nestled by the hatch, but it's also up in the corner. It means she hasn't got a neighbor to one side or even properly across the way. All in all, it's not so bad an arrangement... even if she's got to deal with people wandering in past her.

The woman isn't currently in her bunk, however, but she is nearby it, which means she might be seen as blocking the doorway... just a smidgen. She's by her locker, peeling herself out of her flight suit after CAP. Her hair's been braided down neatly -- which explains how it fits -- and there's a sheen of sweat still on her brow from being secured in the air-tight suit for hours on end. Her gloves are already tossed up in her personal space and the woman is singing quietly under hr breath in Scorpian as she goes along, largely lost in her own world. The bunks are, by and far, quiet at the moment.

Calliope is in her bunk, for her part. She's a top herself. She's got the curtain open, but she's got her holoband on and earbuds in. She looks deeply zoned. Her flight suit's on but she doesn't look particularly sweaty or haggard. Maybe duty is in her future, but has not claimed her yet.

Claiming a bunk right by the hatchway and then standing by it is just begging to be bowled over, one must pray to the Gods to prevent it from happening. It appears that Astraea has not prayed hard enough for that to happen today and it is just her bad luck that today, it is a Marine that is stepping through the hatch, a newly transferred one at that. With a large duffel bag that is slung over his left shoulder, Aleksander steps through the portal, his eyes glued onto the transfer papers in his right hand and a slight scowl on his face. Due to his attention being on the papers and not expecting someone to be right in the doorway, he bumps into the unfortunate Raptor pilot that is in the middle of removing her flightsuit. The Marine himself is almost regulation dressed, he has his khaki fatigues on but he has his Leonese Foreign Legion beret on and the shirt under his fatigues isn't the grey and brown tank, but a grey shirt that has the Foreign Legion logo on it as well.

And poor Astraea is all of five-foot-two. Over a foot shorter than Aleksander and a pilot, as compared to a Marine. Add in the fact that she's got her flight suit halfway unzipped and pulled midway down her arms and you've got a recipe for disaster. Maybe most folks are more aware of their surroundings or the relatively new to the Vanguard herself jig just hasn't had the ill fortune of being run over by a freight train yet. All she can do is let out a small yelp of surprise as she's toppled over onto the deck when the Tauran collides with her, shoulder knocking solidly into the bunking itself. Grimacing, she swears fluidly a few times as she holds at her arm. "Frak's sake, watch where yer goin' why don't'cha?"

The yelping gets Calliope's attention. As does the toppling. She clicks off her holo and leans out of her bunk. Precariously. It's a stork-like neck bend out, then a bodily craning to the side. And then, she hops out. Landing on her feet with a vaguely triumphant grin. She wanted to be on top for a reason. "Oh my gods! Are people okay? Is somebody maimed? What happened?" While she wasn't asleep, her eyes have a general 'orienting themselves to the real world' look to them that might as well be coming out a dream state.

Fortunately for the tiny Scorpian, Aleksander did feel himself bumping into something or someone as he quickly jerks his papers up to clear his vision. This keeps the Marine from taking another step, which may or may not have squished the poor pilot that was knocked down. His mind is no longer on the transfer orders and scowl is gone. Dropping the duffel bag down on the ground by his side, the former Legionnaire extends his free left hand out to Astraea to help her back up if she chooses to accept, "Sorry about that, didn't expect the genius engineers to install bunks right in front of the hatchway." When Calliope hopes down from her bunk with her concerned questions, the Marine sees another suited up pilot and his brows furrow, "I hope not, was an accident. Honest. Was told this was the berthings for Marines but apparently someone decided to point me to Pilot Country instead."

The hand up is accepted, but Astraea grunts absently as she rolls back to her feet. She doesn't seem too put off her game other than the bruise to ego and shoulder. She wrinkles her nose, rubbing at her shoulder again once her hand's free. "Pretty sure ain't no one maimed," the Scorpian offers in that rolling, island cadence of hers. "Just 'pparently surrounded by giants on this ship. Frak me but is everyone tall 'round here?" There's a bit of grump in her voice as she squints up at Aleksander. A glance at Calliope confirms that the other woman is also, it would seem, tall. Go figure. She shoves the flight suit down to waist level, leaving her in dual-tanks beneath. "Naw, ain't just pilot country. All th' Timber Wolves bunk in here. Marine an' pilot alike. So iff'n that's yer assignment, yer in th' right place." She leans a bit to try to see the man's transfer papers, even reaching to try to grab at them if she's given the chance. He bumped into her. It's payback. "Didn't realize anyone new was gonna come aboard after Scorpia. Thought I was one of th'last." She sounds almost relieved about this.

Calliope slouches a little. She's a lanky girl and the slouch is habitual. It does not disguise her tallness, though. "Oh this is totally Marine country! But also pilot country. They've crammed us all together. I think it's, like, a unit cohesion thing? Or possibly this ship is just way smaller than the Galactica was. Anyway, hi! Welcome." The pair of them are offered a quick grin, though her eyes linger curiously on Astraea. "You a flyer? I am. Raptor pilot. Calliope Drake. Lieutenant, junior grade. Callsign Soundbite. I...think that's it! Military introductions are frakking long."

Speaking of everybody being tall, Tavo ducks his way into the berthings. He doesn't need to, but somehow, ducking through the hatch makes him feel better. His Marine khakis bulge with bandaging around his rib-cage, and he moves with a little limp as he heads over to his bunk, grumbling, "Frakking Ganas. Making us all frakking look bad." Apparently, someone just now managed to see Game 4 of the Finals.

Priya doesn't have a problem with being tall, ducking around Tavo as he makes his way into the berthings. The averagedly sized Tauron is fresh from patrol and the shower, her half head of hair hanging damply against her shoulder and a pattern of traditional Tauron tattoos exposed by her tank top, along with a number of burns at the tops of her shoulders. "What's long, Caprica?" She quips, heading towards her bunk.

Aleksander's brows remains furrowed showing he doesn't exactly understand how this is Pilot Country and also Marine Land, that just doesn't compute. Now he's suspicious that these pilots are just pulling his tail, perhaps in vengeance of almost taking out of theirs. With his distraction, it would be easy for Astraea to snatch the papers out of his hands, which would show that the tallish Marine is in the right spot. A new Timerwolf, an ex-Legionnaire. Turning his gaze to the taller, chatty pilot, Aleksander can't help but release a sigh, "Gods, who did I piss off to get transferred onto this tugboat. I guess they weren't kidding when they told me to shape up." When Tavo steps into the berthings, the Tauron recognizes another Marine by build and uniform, "So I guess it is mixed berthings... not sure which genius decided on that and why but I guess that's why I'm not an officer."

"Did I miss th'game?" Astraea looks up and over to Tavo and frak her, another giant?! She just sort of scowls at Aleksander, as if it's his fault. The woman has a fair number of tattoos herself, but they aren't Tauran in nature, no. Scorpian. Clan and clan war markings. The new marine's transfer papers, after she looks them over, are thrust back his way. Right center of his chest. "Yer in the right spot," she offers. Her accent, for those familiar, mark her from Argentum Bay. More slum than the nice areas, though. Definitely an island girl, for sure. "Welcome to th'Timber Wolves, though someone else oughta give ya th'grand tour." She does, however, scoff at his complaint. "Tug boat? Frak's yer issue? This is a pretty frakkin' elite unit from what I hear." She rolls her eyes, leaning back against her locker as she pulls a knee up to her chest to start unlacing her boots. "Or didja expect better'n spec ops?"

"Oh my gods, that was brutal!" Calliope hollers at Gustavo, apparently on the subject of the Pyramid Cup. Wince. "I mean, I'm sure he is totally not reflective of your people. Like, I get called a Caprican oppressor sometimes, but I have never oppressed anyone! I took cross-world studies at university!" Anyway. "I mean, at least the series is competitive. Makes it exciting. Even if we get the games like...way after they've been played. Priya's shot a quick grin. "Hey Sweetheart." She's still reveling in the new callsign. "We have new people! That guy thinks pilots smell or something." Aleksander is shot a quick grin. She's wearing her flight suit, but looks pretty fresh. Duty is likely in her future, but not upon her yet. She's just hopped out of her bunk. People are milling around the berths. Aleksander is clearly new, armed with travel gear and such.

Tavo glances over to the other big man, "Someone who wants you to be a dead hero, most likely. But yeah, they've got us all in a couple of berthings. Trying for mixed unit integrity or something." He pauses, tossing a folded-up magazine onto his bunk and then turning back to the others. There's a moment's pause, and then he notes with a toothy grin, "Mostly it means we hear officers and enlisted getting it on." Looking back to Astraea, he shrugs, gesturing toward the door, "Been out a couple days. I just managed to catch it." He studies smaller Scorpian for a moment, then notes, "You want spoilers or not?" As if his cursing wasn't spoiler enough." And then Calliope is going at the subject, and he grunts, "Wasn't a cheap shot anyhow. She shouldn't have straightened up into the shot." It... pretty much was a cheap shot, or at least a lot more controversial than Tavo's defense of his Colony would have it seem. "The games have been shit though. The Threshers losing Lindus and the Stingers losing Eshfield, de la Cruz, and Sacres kind of blows."

Rothschild steps into the berthings expecting quiet and getting bedlam. The dark-haired Leonese is about to turn herself around and exit as quickly as she entered, but something almost tickles her ears. She squints, stepping furhter into the berthings. It is almost as if she senses the unrest caused by Aleksander Davion. She hears Tavo first, stepping into view of the gathering with a snort. "Eshfield wasn't all that," she argues, though then her eyes settle on Aleksander, and the Praetorian is all smiles. "Davy," she says, crossing her arms. "I thought I sensed a storm coming."

"You are sometime an oppressor," Priya says dryly to Calliope, winding through the tall men to make it to her bunk and dropping down with a bunch. She points at her for the Callsign. "I could kill you for that, Caprica and I'm stuck with it now." It's a threat with minimal heat, at least she smiles - kind of. Her gaze flicks over the Aleksander with a lift of her brows. "I've been on the ground. No one smells that hot after combat," she opines dryly, Tauron accent thick at the edges of her words.

A slight grunt is the response from Aleksander when his transfer papers are shoved back at him. No word of thank given as he snatches them back as he will need them for later. At the moment, the Tauron Marine is standing and probably blocking most of the southern entrance into the berthings, having just knocked poor Astraea down moments earlier since her bunk was unlucky enough to be right in front of the portal. He does look down at the shorter pilot and shakes his head, "I heard this was a Spec Ops posting but back in the Foreign Legion, we had better living quarters than this." Of course, he was mostly staying in land based barracks but no one put bunks right in front of the doorway unless it was punishment from a superior. When Aleksander hears what Calliope says, he was about to voice his own protest but instead of words that escape his lips, it's just a sign of resignation. He realizes that he is being teased, how dare a pilot tease a Marine, blasphemy.

A slight grunt is the response from Aleksander when his transfer papers are shoved back at him. No word of thank given as he snatches them back as he will need them for later. At the moment, the Tauron Marine is standing and probably blocking most of the southern entrance into the berthings, having just knocked poor Astraea down moments earlier since her bunk was unlucky enough to be right in front of the portal. He does look down at the shorter pilot and shakes his head, "I heard this was a Spec Ops posting but back in the Foreign Legion, we had better living quarters than this." Of course, he was mostly staying in land based barracks but no one put bunks right in front of the doorway unless it was punishment from a superior. When Aleksander hears what Calliope says, he was about to voice his own protest but instead of words that escape his lips, it's just a sign of resignation. He realizes that he is being teased, how dare a pilot tease a Marine, blasphemy.

Aleksander's outfit is currently half regulation, probably another mark of being a new transfer. The Leonese Foreign Legion beret is still on his head and under his khaki shirt is a grey t-shirt with the logo of the Legion as well. It is when he hears Rothschild's voice that he realizes he may have one ally onboard and is potentially saved. Turning around, the Tauron Marine finally manages a smile as well, a crooked one at that. "Dora! I heard you might have been assigned here, but I didn't believe it. Not exactly a PR setting, this... ship." He will refrain from the word, 'tugboat,' for now. A quick glance to Priya and a quick quip as well, "I never said anyone smelled."

The arrival of Priya helps Astraea feel marginally better. It brings down the height average somewhat. Not enough that she feels less towered over, with Aleksander still right there, but at least she's not the only relatively-tiny-thing around anymore. One boot off, she shifts to having her other leg up by her chest to unlace that one. "Go ahead," the other Scorpian calls to Gustavo. "Dunno when I'll get th'chance t'watch, y'know?" She's spending a lot of time just getting herself settled in, after all. For Aleksander, there's just a sort of long look. "There's more room on the ground, or do they not teach basic geometry to grunts?" She gets both boots off, dropping them into her locker, even if she has to lean past the new transfer to do so. He's in her space, so she'll just treat him like part of the scenery. From there, the woman continues the process of stripping out her flight suit, leaving her in dual-tanks and boy shorts. It's the barracks. Deal with the partially undressed pilot.

"I mean, it was kind of a cheap shot. I thought she was going to lose a tooth for a minute there," Calliope says, with a wince about the game. She shrugs. "It's a weird year. With the war on...everywhere, and all. I guess I should be happy they're even playing." She sticks her tongue out at Priya, blowing a raspberry at her. It's probably an oppressive gesture. The grin she shoots Aleksander is a teasing one. Not helping her rep at all. Rothschild gets a quick nod, as she enters. She takes the stripping in stride. She's been here long enough to adapt to such things.

"You've got to say that, Praety, or else all the Scorpians'll be blaming you for every loss." Tavo looks over to Astraea, then points to Rothschild, "She's has a couple dinners with Eshfield, he decides to enlist. He decides to enlist, Sacres and de la Cruz decide to enlist." He might be exaggerating blame a little bit. The use of the diminutive for Rothschild from the other giant Marine causes his brows to rise, and he studies the Foreign Legionnaire a moment longer. Astraea provides a distraction, and he looks back to his Colony-mate, gesturing toward her at her response to the big man, then grunting, "Ganas cracked Thorne's orbit just after the midpoint. Announcers were bitching about it being a dirty hit." Tavo glances back to Calliope for a moment, then continues, "I think they can sit and spin. Pyramid's not for wimps. We pulled back into it, 2-2, but Ganas is banned for the rest of the Finals, Thorne'll probably be out a game or two."

Rothschild looks more than a little pleased at the sight of the Tauron-gone-Leonese. She steps forward, debating between the welcoming embrace or the shoulder chuck. She goes with the shoulder chuck, though she cannot hide her satisfaction. "I see you're already behaving yourself." There's a delicate snort that accompanies that. "It isn't, but I had to basically resort to blackmail to even land a transfer that didn't involve flash bulbs." The she hesitates, giving Aleksander a quick look over. "Who even thought of transferring you here?" Her eyes narrow, as if already suspicious. Then she flicks a gaze toward Tavo, holding up her hands. "I was merely doing my job... Pyramid players are great soldiers." Mostly.

Priya doesn't even notice Astraea stripping as its par for course on the ship, she's too busy rolling her eyes at Calliope. Looking towards Aleksander, she nods with a tip of her head. "So long as you're not saying that, yeah."

Astraea's words causes Aleksander to scowl again but this time at her instead of the transfer papers, but there is no biting remark back as he does realize that he is in the way. Instead of just standing there and purposefully being an obstacle to the Raptor pilot, he leans over slightly to pick up his duffel bag and when he straightens up, it is just in time to be nudged by Rothschild in the shoulder. Luckily he's a large Marine and not a small Raptor pilot so he doesn't go sprawling. "It's not my fault." He says, the usual response for most problems that are in his orbit, "Well, this time it sort of is but... yeah." As for who is to blame for transferring him here, Aleksander's frown returns, "It could've been my company commander but I don't think it was... we made our peace. He stopped poking me with a stick," Figuratively speaking of course, "I behaved. I think it was someone else that tossed my name in." No names are mentioned but the Tauron may be thinking of the same person that Rothschild is thinking of, the senior Rothschild. "So I guess bunks are free for alls?" He asks in general, heading deeper into the room now with his duffel bag and papers in tow, probably choosing to go to the very opposite end of the berthings from where Astraea is staying. He does glance back to the Raptor pilot he knocked down as he starts walking away, "Again, sorry about that." Then looking at Priya, he smirks, "I'm from the Foreign Legion, I've smelled much worse than pilots."

"Well, maybe they'll start pullin' in some new blood from th'minors. There's some great players that keep gettin' passed over 'cause of politics or 'cause they won't look as good for endorsements. They won't have as many excuses now. An' that's some shit with Ganas, but... I ain't really surprised, based on last season." Far, far from 'refined' Scorpian is Astraea, if there ever were one. She tosses her flight suit into her locker, grabs a towel and fresh clothes. The jig doesn't flee just yet, however. Instead, hauls herself up and into her own bunk above. It finally frees her from feeling like a wee fern amongst the oaks. She watches Aleksander go and maybe, just maybe, sticks her tongue out at his back. The stuff, in prep for her post-CAP shower, is tossed down behind her as she lifts her hands to start undoing her hair from the braids its been wound into for wear under her helmet. Steadily, the kinks and curls start being revealed into a halo of dark hair around her dark, freckled features.

"Yeah, I mean, the games are going to suck even more now. Cheap shot or not," Calliope mourns to Gustavo. She holds up her arms, triumphantly, at Aleksander. To prove how much she doesn't smell. "Maybe next season will be more interesting. With the new blood." Astraea's stripping seems to remind her she needs to, eventually, go in that direction. She stows the (off) holoband on her head back in her bunk, and closes it up and ambles over to her locker. Long limbs stretching as she goes.

"Just 'cause I am doesn't mean all of us are, Praety." Tavo shakes his head, dropping his hands from the edge of his bunk with a little grimace, pressing his hand to his ribs, then letting it drop back to his side. He shrugs a little at Astraea, "I don't know. A lot of the good lower league players are enlisting too. It looked like schoolyard ball out there part of the time. But yeah, nobody should be surprised Ganas was pushing the line. Just that he did it with Thorne. I mean, what, she's got nine centimeters and what, 18-19 kilos on him?" Calliope gets a shrug too, "Yeah, she's good fun to watch. But without Lindus, that team wasn't the same either. Too much emphasis on just her. Reminds me of secondary school, you get a kid," him, in his memories, "that's gonna go a long way and a bunch of kids whose voices are just getting done squeaking, everything goes through one player and shit gets boring. I don't know, maybe I'm just getting old and bitchy, but the Finals have pretty much sucked as far as good pyramid goes. And if any more people enlist, next year'll just be worse." Someone's a pessimist.

"<<You'll smell worse yet,>>" Priya suggests glibly in Tauron, hazarding a guess at his home colony. His comment does make her snort in amusement and wiggle her fingers as he goes searching out an bunk. Folding her hands behind her head, she stretches out in her own bunk, idly watching Calliope. "You on duty next, Caprica?"

Rothschild looks meaningfully at Aleksander, as if agreeing without a word on the same thing they are both thinking. Then she shakes her head slightly before she gives his shoulder a companionable squeeze. "Gods, you came just in time," she murmurs to the Tauron, and then she starts to smile again. She actually looks a bit more relaxed. Then she glances toward Tavo as he continues on his Pyramid, and she nods to Tavo. "Alright, alright..." She shakes her head slightly. "You do know the solution to finding good Pyramid." She smirks. "You should host your own cup. It isn't like we're running low on Pyramid players onboard."

The former Legionnaire does not see the tongue sticking out being directed at him though he may sense a prickling of the hairs at the back of his neck, as if sensing something is slightly off. For now, the Tauron doesn't join in on the friendly Pyramid chatter as he tries to ground himself after that unfortunate entrance earlier. He nods appreciatively at the shoulder squeeze though Rothschild's words does have him furrowing his brows again, "Just in time? I hope things aren't that bad here, from what I know, you guys just got here to Picon. And the news that filtered through said that the 'Wolves did quite a bit of good stuff on Canceron with the relief efforts and then the fighting afterwards." He does finally glance towards Tavo as a local tournament is mentioned, "If you need another for some pick up games, I'm in. But I don't know if I'm going to be good enough to for a league."

"Hey, we're lucky t'have new games at all. They'da been justified callin' off th'entire cup 'cause of th'war, y'know." Astraea glances up, through her hair, towards Gustavo. "Hard t'be picky, I think." Not much brings her down, all told. She swings her legs as she works, back to humming under her breath. Not outright singing as she was prior to being bowled over by Aleksander's arrival, but at least humming the harmony to the Scorpian song itself. She does chime in, after a moment: "I ain't up for anythin' official, but I'll play pickup games sometimes if anyone wants."

"I would totally play!" Calliope pipes enthusiastically when Rothschild mentions Pyramid. "I didn't get past the high school team, but I was Varsity. I mean, we kind of sucked. And I didn't get the most play time. But I was there!" To Priya, she nods. "Yeah, in like a half hour. CAP is tense this close to Picon. Not sure whether I should hope we find the toasters or it stays quiet." Slight smile to Aleksander. "We tried. I think we did good work there. It's just hard to tell sometimes, between what gets filtered through the P-R machine. And there's so much to do." She rummages through her locker, head tilting at Astraea's humming. Like she's trying to follow the tune.

Tavo grunts at Rothschild's suggestion, a thoughtful-though-pessimistic sound. "Maybe. Always gonna have the problem with people coming up hole-y." And again, he pats his ribs (gently) with one hand. "Would throw off teams. Been some talk of just a one-on-one league." The offers from all around cause Tavo to nod, looking around, and then he offers out a hand to the nearest person he doesn't know, then following around to the others in turn, "Tavo. Delgado." The fact that he's a Marine and a Staff Sergeant can be easily discerned from his uniform. "And yeah, I guess bad pyramid's better than no pyramid at all." He glances down a moment, a grin starting to spread across his face before he chuckles and notes, "Kinda like sex. The good stuff's still better though." And then he looks over to Rothschild, "See? Looks like you've got to learn now."

"I've played a little," Priya offers on the subject of Pyramid, glancing over at Rothschild. "Be a nice break from hitting the bags." She nods at Calliope, loosely winding her fingers through her hair to pull it into a braid. "We found a helluva cluster in the asteroid belts. So safe wings and happy hunting, whichever way it goes." On the subject of Canceron, she remains quiet. Introductions though, she can do. "Tarsis, Priya. Ensign ECO."

Rothschild glances to Davy, and she shakes her head almost ruefully. "I'll fill you in later," she promises in a hush. Then she snorts at Tavo. "People are going to want a distraction from being all hole-y. I think you're missing an opportunity." Then she shakes her head as she leans into a near-by locker, crossing her arms as she does. She glances at the pilots just beyond the gaggle of Marines. Calliope's enthusism draws a faint smile to her lips.

That answer from Rothschild has Aleksander nodding his head understandingly, no arguments there and the subject is dropped rather easily. On his way to the other corner of the berthings, the Tauron slows to a stop when Tavo approaches with introductions. Shaking the other Marine's hand firmly, he answers in turn, "Lance Corporal Aleksander Davion." A rank attached to the name that was spoken by Rothschild earlier, "Good to meet you, Sergeant, looks like we'll be scrapping tin cans together in the near future." With that said, he continues towards the corner bunk, opposite of Astraea's just to be safe. Unfortunately, Salvae will have a large Marine to deal with, let's hope the bunks are sturdily built or the poor Viper pilot will have a rude wake up call when over two hundred pounds of weight falls on him. Instead of hopping on the bunk though, Aleksander tosses his large duffel bag onto the bunk itself before turning around to rejoin the small gathering.

There's something folksy to the tune that Astraea hums. It's easy to follow and repetitive after a few short bars, like a childhood rhyme or lullaby. She continues working her hair out of its twists and braids and shakes her head a few times once it's all free. "Astraea Masters," she offers once Gustavo introduces himself and the others start chiming in. "Raptor pilot. Jay-Gee." There's a glance over at Priya and a bit of an upnod. "Might be workin' together at some point."

Calliope finishes up in her locker, retrieving a hard candy from it before she shuts it. It's a lime-shaped thing from Scorpia one can suck for a long time. She pops it into her mouth, then shuts the locker tight. She manages to whistle along with Astraea's humming, after a few bars. A decent accompanyment, though it would not take any prizes at a karaoke jam. She trails it off on a note that's more or less on-key. "You'll hear us on the horn if we go hunting, I'm sure. Hard to tell out here, though. Good to meet you, Lance." To Alek. "Welcome aboard, if I didn't say it before."

Tavo nods his head at each of the introductions in turn, rolling his shoulders and snorting softly at Rothschild, "I'm not saying I'm not gonna do it. I'm just saying that if it gets too formal, there's gonna be a lot of games skipped from being wounded." Looking back to the other big man, he nods, "There's plenty to go around, Davion. We always get thrown somewhere there's plenty of toasters. You a gunner too?" The question is accompanied by an indicative nod toward Rothschild. "Good group of jarheads, even if some of them can get a little bitchy if they have to walk places instead of zipping around in the," he glances over to the pilot and ECO, then just grins along with, "flying death traps."

"Looking forward to it," Priya responds to Astraea, sitting up enough in her bunk to offer a slight salute and a smile. She chuckles at Calliope's comment and dips her head back against her pillow. No doubt. "Good to meet you and welcome on board," are offered in turn to Gutavo and the rest. Although, she adds, "It's only a death trap if your pilot's shit. And lucky for you we've a solid bunch."

Rothschild rolls her eyes good-naturedly at Tavo, and then she flashes him a rueful smile. "Alright, then make it a casual thing... but Gods, you need to play Pyramid somehow." Then she gives Alek a glance across the bunks, taps the side of her nose, and then nudges lightly at Tavo. "Come on... I need your insight on something."

A nod of thanks is offered to Calliope from the Tauron Marine at her welcome before he turns his attention back to Tavo, "Well, there seems to be plenty of toasters all around, just gotta do our part in cutting the numbers down." As for the question about him being a gunner, there is the briefest moments of hesitation before his old habits kick in, ones that are carrying over from the Foreign Legion. "Rifleman." His CF personnel docket would concur with that answer, that this particular Marine is indeed just a rifleman but ask anyone in his previous unit, if pushed, Aleksander can shoot the heavy guns or even mounted pieces rather accurately. When flying death traps are mentioned, the former Legionnaire can't help but laugh, "Tell me about it, I rather have my boots on solid ground than being stuck in a flying coffin." When Priya tries to reassure them that they have good pilots, Alek can only smile in amusement, "That may be true but I prefer to be in control, and I can control my two feet very well." The nose tap signal is caught and a slight nod is answered in return.

"Make note," Astraea calls towards Priya, "that Delgado there is on the list for makeshift door if the hatch on the Raptor ever breaks." She might be joking, but he's big enough. And Roths was there for that particular conversation. Use the big fells to block incoming fire. If ever necessary. Though one hopes it isn't. But he did call her bird -- or type of -- a flying death trap! "Damn straight we're a solid bunch. Wouldn't be posted here if we weren't, right?" Says the new girl who has barely flown with the Wolves yet. When more complaints are issued regarding the flying contingent of their unit, she scoffs as she hops down from her bunk, grabbing her towel and fresh clothes. "Y'know, when y'all are down an' bleeding, I don't ever hear complaints. Seem awful happy to see us then." She might be running out of cheer to keep up with it... which may well be why she's shoving her feet into a spare pair of sneakers from her locker and aiming for the hatch.. Likely to aim for the showers.

"Speaking of controlling Raptors, I should get on," Calliope says, heading toward the hatch. The same one Astraea is bunking so close to. She manages to make her exit without colliding with anyone, though. "Keep me posted on the Pyramid thing. Totally doing it!" And off she goes.

"Yes, sir." Priya answers, well short of a salute, as she leans back into her bunch to take a nap. She'll definitely make a note of that later. At some point. A hand is lifted to wave farewell at Calliope, but she doesn't actually open her eyes.

Tavo gives Priya a slightly-grudging grunt, "I suppose they fixed the falling-out-of-the-sky problem they were having back on Galactica. But I still prefer wheels to jets. A lot less distance to fall if something goes wrong." The big Scorpian nods at the Legionnaire, narrowing his eyes slightly, "I think I found us another ammo-humper, Praety." Because you can never have too much SAW ammo when you're in the shit. He chuckles at Astraea's commentary, "Well yeah. Flying death trap's better than dying on the ground." And then he rocks under Rothschild's nudge, clearing his throat and lifting his brows up, "Need some help boresighting the SAW?" His feet, however, have already started moving him toward the hatch.

Rothschild chuckles slightly at that. "No... actually. I wanted you to look over some ideas I have for Picon." Then she offers a wave over her shoulder to those settling in, falling in with Tavo to head for the open hatch.


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