2237-06-14 - Who Can We Trust?

A quick reunion between a newly transferred Legionnare and an old, close friend transitions into a discussion of the confidence in the Colonial Forces.

Date: 2237-06-14

Location: Vanguard - Laundry Room

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 1143

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Rothschild is just finishing up her business in the laundry room. She has her basket of clothes, set up on one of the tables so she can start folding her dried garments. She is humming lightly to herself as she picks up a bit of clothing, shaking it out to reveal a shirt, and then beginning to fold them according to regulation -- well, Leonese regulation at the very least. She looks a bit tired, almost worn around the edges, and something appears to be occupying her thoughts.

One may be surprised to see Aleksander carry a laundry sack that isn't filled into the Laundry Room, especially since he just transferred in, but it appears that the Marine is trying to stay ahead of the build up before missions become too hectic. Seeing Rothschild there already, he expected her to hear him walk in and look up. When she continues to focus on her folding, he arches a brow and offers a verbal greeting and question, "Dora, trying to keep the corners perfectly folded there?" Slight amusement in his tone but more curious at what's distracting her.

"Always, Davy," Rothschild says with a wry chuckle. She carefully pulls the shirt taut as she works, though she doesn't look up at him as she continues. She then glances over at him only once she has her shirt completely folded, and she cocks a brow at him with the smallest of smiles on her lips. "You can't borrow my detergent," she says, tone matter-of-fact.

The assumption that he is not lugging a small container of detergent inside the sack has the Tauron rewarding Rothschild with a mock scowl. "Yeah, I wouldn't want to or the rest of the platoon will think I use girly smelling detergent. Can't start my first theater in the Timberwolves with a bad rep." Setting his sack on a small table next to an unused washing machine, he undoes the rope at the top of the sack and miraculously pulls out his own bottle of detergent. The container is blue in color and there is some spiffy looking guy giving a thumbs up and a wink. "See?" He says rather proudly before he goes to work tossing pieces of clothes into the washing machine. Some of them are newly issued clothes that See-Eff has issued him, "So what's tugging at you?" He asks without looking away from his own laundry.

"Girly smelling?" Rothschild starts to laugh once more -- a low and amused noise in the back of her throat. She shakes her head as she grabs another pair of clothes, shaking it out and beginning her precise folds. "I think you had that same bottle of detergent last time I saw you." She smirks over at him in passing, and then she is back to her work. The question has her chin sinking slightly, and she breathes out a slow breath. She glances beyond him, up and around the laundry room, before her dark eyes settle on his own. "I made a questionable call in the field, and one of the sergeants in my squad took the time to give me shit about it." She shakes her head. "What's worse is how he prefaced the whole thing... complaining about how his heroes keep letting him down. Like I'm supposed to bare that kind of weight."

After tossing the last item from his sack into the laundry machine, Aleksander furrows his brows as he picks up that blue container and looks at it, "Well, not the /same/ bottle. Not gonna fix what isn't broken." He resists making any quips about how he didn't have minions doing his laundry for him since the Tauron is smart enough to know that Rothschild wasn't happy about being hauled away to be Leonis's PR poster girl. What she says about what’s been on her mind more or less confirms that. The Lance Corporal is quiet for a moment before he releases a sigh, "Well, if we had working magic eight-balls, then we'd have put down this Cylon rebellion already. You made a call, from your experiences and training, and it's done. How it plays out is how it plays out." He then tries to lighten up his words, perhaps trying to shift the mood that is hanging over Eudora like a cloud, "That's what I prefer to skip under the brass's radar. Don't raise their expectations and they won't be disappointed... much." The last word tagged on since some are still disappointed. One that is on the list of disappointed, in more than one way, could also be the reason that Aleksander is here.

Eudora snorts slightly as she continues to work on the basket of laundry, folding and piling each garment. She glances over her shoulder to him, and then she shakes her head. "I know that... but it doesn't make me less frustrated." She starts to roll a pair of socks together. Her brows work together as she frowns. "There's no way to make the right call every time... that's just playing the odds." She piles the socks. Her head tilts a bit as if she is thinking once more, and then she looks over at him. "But you're here... so you must have impressed someone." She arches a brow then.

"You're right, it doesn't, you're frustrated because you care. Which is a good thing.” Aleksander has a feeling that Rothschild already knows the right answers and just needs some time to blow off the steam so he doesn’t dwell on that subject unless she wants to poke him with questions about it. He does have something to say about impressing someone, “I doubt it, Dora, could be that someone /wants/ to be impressed which is more likely and I don’t think it was my immediate superior. Either he had given up on any form of excellence or was just glad that I wasn’t causing anymore trouble.” Which means the other likely candidate would be Eudora’s father, who was also Aleksander’s superior when he first joined the Foreign Legion, in the fourth regiment. That man was probably also the one that had some pull on having Aleksander’s unit being one of those selected to reinforce Trenoir and help bring relief and reinforcements to Eudora’s squad at that academy.

Rothschild snorts a bit at his first words, but then she nods almost soberly. "You almost have to," she says under her breath. "Care, that is." Then she shakes her head as she works on another t-shirt. She is quiet for a few moments as she listens to Alek, and then her brow arches. "You think this is a test of some kind?" Then her tone goes dry. "To see if you will finall live up to your potential?" She gives him an almost pointed look and then returns to folding up the t-shirt.

"I wouldn't call it a test since I'm pretty sure this assignment isn't an evaluation, but more like a hard shove. Somehow, someone told some tall tales about what happened on Trenoir and I guess they believe holding my feet to the fire will make me jump higher." Aleksander doesn't exactly say that it won't work, but he is obviously not pleased about it. "The Foreign Legion is where I belong, not here. I grew up in the Legion, it's my home." Of course he has never told a soul about why he became a Legionnaire, about the past that he fled from. With his laundry tossed into the machine, the Tauron pours the blue goopy liquid detergent into a cup and then dumps it in with his clothes, then closes the lid and hits the start switch.

"I didn't say anything," Rothschild says, holding up her hands now that she's all finished folding her laundry. "Surely, I didn't need anyone to know that you were the first person I saw when I came out of Athenas, and I'm pretty sure I embarrassed myself." She then shakes her head at his statement of where to belong, and she sighs. "Well, I would say that if the Cylons were only trying to murder Leonese, that would make sense... but... they are out for the Colonies. All of them."

With the machine rumbling away as it works its heavy duty powers into cleaning, Aleksander turns around and leans his back against it as his attention returns to Rothschild, "I'm wouldn't call it embarrassing yourself, Dora. None of us knew what the frak was going on, it took a while for it to sink in for most. We only had our training to rely on to survive, that's something I owe it all to the Legion. It was like watching a horror movie, luckily my body was able to move on its own." A slow sigh is released as he shakes his head, as if that would banish the images of those first days when the Cylons rebelled that are still clearly embedded into his memories. "It's true they're going after everyone... but we're not machines. They are programmed to work together, to have absolute, unquestioned trust. Can the same be said for those from the other colonies? Capricans who caused this mess? The Virgons?"

Rothschild watches him with the smallest tilt of her head, dark eyes focused on her long-lost friend. She reaches out to touch the side of his forearm, offering a small hint of comfort. Then she shrugs a shoulder as she starts to pile up her clothes in her basket. "My question is... do we have a choice?" She licks at her lower lip thoughtfully. "And can we afford to even speculate down that road?"

"Can we afford not to?" Aleksander answers quietly, either afraid of someone else listening in or just unsure of the answer himself as he looks down at Rothschild's hand, "I mean, I saw one of the news reports when the Timberwolves were assigned to the disaster relief of Canceron. About the majority of officers being Caprican and in full control of this operation, as well as the Colonial Forces. Politics are always being played at the top." Once more he shakes his head, "Back in the Legion, we were all family. Brothers and sisters, no questions asked. Here... I wouldn't know who to trust, except you. But I guess I'll find out the first time I'm on an ops down on Picon, yeah?"

Rothschild slips into thoughtful silence as she finishes packing her laundry basket. Something about Aleksander's words strikes a small chord with the Leonese woman, and she glances up at the Tauron-turned-Leonese. "There are good souls onboard... and I think that we will all look out for each other out of necessity. There's almost no point to even think otherwise... to suggest that we might have a Colonist onboard that is more concerned for his or her own people would be a devastating decision. It could... undo so much that has been gained." She catches the edge of her mouth between her teeth, worrying at it.

"Well... you're right, there is no point. Like I've been told before, I wasn't trained to think, only to fight." Aleksander says with a slight grin finally, one side of his lips tweaking upwards, "I'll just do what I've been trained to, follow orders and make sure we stay alive when we face those toasters. Everything will sort itself out one way or another." The rumbling of the washing machine continues in the background of their conversation, "Anything I need to keep an eye out for in particular, either onboard or down on Picon? I've been assigned as a rifleman when they transferred me into the See-Eff, should be simple enough."

Rothschild snorts. "You know that always drove Dad crazy." She gives him a look. "Because you're actually quite smart. If you weren't smart, he wouldn't have tried to set us up on that awful date." As she's finished with her laundry and just spending some time with Aleksander, she turns to pull herself up on the table with her feet dangling. "Hmm." She finally considers his question once she's settled. "Mercer isn't going to care that you were in the Foreign Legion. You're a marine now. He will expect that you take that seriously." She then sighs, running through her mental list. "The men and women in Recon all mean serious business, and I highly recommend you get to know them. They are going to be the ones that primarily make sure we don't walk into something that we won't survive. I'm rather fond of Calhoun in the Riflemen. You should seek him out." Then she finds herself starting to grin. "Of course, the Gunners run the show." She's almost teasing him now. "I also recommend you talk to Walker. She's got extensive training in the water, and can give you some pointers."

At the mention of Rothschild's father playing matchmaker, Aleksander can't help but laugh out loud, perhaps a bit too loud. "That was pretty awful, wasn't it. I think he had such high hopes, hopes that were pretty much dashed. But I do owe your father a lot, and that will never change." The Tauron does fall silent when Eudora begins to go through the list, his mind already making mental notes. The Gunny's expectations should be easy to match. As for Recon, Aleksander nods his head, "Glad to hear we have good scouts, probably the most important group that keeps everyone else alive." The name Calhoun is also mentally noted and the Tauron will definitely seek out the other rifleman. Then when the Gunners are mentioned, he laughs again, "Well, the biggest guns make the most noise. Can't blame them though, it feels /real/ good when you can fully unload with one of their pieces of gear." When water is mentioned though, he can't help but wrinkle his nose, obviously not fond of swimming.

"That's okay. I didn't find you that attractive, either." Rothschild is grinning to herself now -- a wider smile that she often wears. Then she rubs at her thighs -- a distracted gesture. "I've always enjoyed that," she agrees about the joys of being a gunner. Then she catches sight of his wrinkling nose, and she starts to laugh. "Hey, be thankful. I spent my first weeks onboard dealing with Canceron jungles... I'm more than happy to do some beach warfare after battling both Cylons and giant mosquitos."

A hand goes to where his heart is and Aleksander mimes a pained 'ouch' after hearing Rothschild's words, "Your are as accurate as ever, Dora. Straight for the heart." As for Canceron's jungle's, the Tauron reluctantly agrees that that does sound worse, "I heard there was some disease that was spread as well in the jungles, you're right, Picon may be better. But... I was told there are big sharks in the water."

Rothschild cannot help it. She starts teasing him. "You're still afraid of sharks, Davy? I thought you got passed that." Then she slides off the table and grabs her laundry basket. She braces it into her full hip, tilting a smile up to him. "You know... you might hate it, but I'm really happy to see you, and to have you here." She reaches up to ruffle his hair in that big sister affection before she starts to turn. "I need to get to the racks. I'm exhausted." She tilts her head. "If we're both alive after Picon, I'll buy you a drink and we can more adequately catch up."

The teasing has Aleksander grousing, "Frakking things have way too many teeth, plus the water is their element, not ours. And they can sense blood /miles/ away!" He is still afraid of sharks. When his hair is ruffled though, he let's out a yelp in mock protest but doesn't actually stop Rothschild, "Yeah, I'm glad to see you again. I didn't believe it when they told me you were with the Timberwolves, though it was just a separate PR section. And I'll make sure we both live through this particular theater." Because if he doesn't, then someone else will most likely kill him back in the Foreign Legion. "Get some sleep."

Rothschild lets her guard down in far too many ways around the Tauron, but she is smiling without remorse as she gathers up the rest of her things and starts for the door. "You would be proud of how I managed this transfer." She flashes him a secretive smile. "Ask me about it sometime." Then she is waving to him as she departs, heading for the berthings with her load of laundry.


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