2237-06-21 - Apple Brown Betty

Jonas takes in more visitors, and they have a conversation about the mission.

Date: 2237-06-21

Location: Sickbay, Vanguard

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 1150

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Jonas isn't going to be able to go anywhere for a while. Currently laid up in sickbay, he's bandaged and stuff and hooked up to machines that monitor everything while he watches some movie on the vid screen. Crap if he knows what it is though, considering the way he's been drifting in and out of consciousness.

A cracked rib doesn't keep a soldier down long and it was a mild enough break that Charlie was released the same night. Beneath her duty greens, there's a bit of extra padding 'round the chest to show the bandaging in place to keep things in place while they heal. Her breathing is a bit shallow at times for the pain and pressure, but overall? The sniper has definitely had worse. For the moment, she's between shifts and her sleeves are rolled up to the elbow in a sort of indication of such. With a sandwich in one hand partially unwrapped and a bottle of water in the other, she's hiking her way from the Mess into sickbay; evasive of medical staff as she stalks her quarry.

It takes ducking a corpsman on rotation and into the stall that she marked Jonas as occupying on her brief 'stay' the night before, but the Piconese woman finally makes it. She's mid-bite, but casts an eye for the man in assessment of his state. If he were fully PTFO'd, she would've made her way right back out. But as he's at least somewhat alert, Wagner continues her way towards his bed with intention to hook a chair to drop herself into.

Friends. That's what people make on new assignments, right? Off-duty and right out of her original packaging from the deck, the hours while not actually working are, in a word, boring. After a half hour of reading and flipping through old movies, Kyle Costello can't take it anymore. She huffs and pushes out of the privacy curtains in her bunk and takes to the stairs.

Minutes later, she's creeping around the hatch into the infirmary with her hair in a ponytail and her off-duty tanks left untucked. Khaki BDUs and boots, her dog tags dangle in the empty space as she leans to peek inside first and commit to entry the second. Fingers wringing against palms, she rounds the nursing station and approaches Jonas and Charlie, palm lifting in a quiet wave.

Opening one eye as he hears the scraping of the chair, Jonas moves to sit up a little. "Hey." he greets Charlie first. "Heard you finally met a girl that was too handsy for you." There's that old Jonas humor as he struggles to get the bed controls to set up fully into position. "They give you a lift while they were working on you?"

When Kyle starts to approach, the new kid gets a smile. "Hey. My first impression totally sucked." he offers to Krima, before he gestures to the fridge next to the bed. "Arda brought by one of her Brown Apple Betties. Help yourselves, I won't be able to eat anything solid for a week yet." he admits. "It's marked 'Toxic', that's how she hides things."

The chair is nabbed with a boot and swung around so Charlie can drop her ass down. It's a pro-slacker move and a holdover from her days as a surfer-cum-beach bum. She takes a swig from her water and nearly chokes on it in an attempt to scoff at Jonas' attempt (successful, yes) at humor at her expense. When he attempts to sit up, she's quick to set her sandwich and water aside to lean forward to get a hand by his shoulder to assist him. "I was barely touched. Hyperion U frat boys had better game two kegs in." She gives an upnod to Kyle at spotting the other recon gal.

"Y'all really should've just hit the exfil," Spectre points out and not for the first time. Probably won't be the last, either. She makes sure Jonas is settled again before she returns to the claimed chair. "I was staying put in that transport until the patrol had cleared. Would've beat ass to the meetup or just found myself somewhere nice and cozy until the next." She looks to Jonas, frowning as she wholly takes in the state of him. "This is no good."

"Oh?" Kyle's brows shoot high and she points a finger over her shoulder towards the door. Mustering up what acting skills she doesn't actually have, her lips twist in confusion. "I'm sorry, they told me that there was gonna be an EOD class in here." Kyle's lip lifts in a teasing smirk as she stops and gently bats a closed fist against the edge of Jonas' bed. "You look like shit, Ingvar, but I do love me toxic treats." Kyle up-nods to Charlie.

In a turn, the brunette turns for the fridge and dips down in a crouch. Peeking inside first in a lean, she whips her ponytail over one shoulder to Charlie, then Jonas. "Shoulda, woulda, coulda is the frak-mary-kill of the marines, Speck." Kyle reaches inside to pluck out a treat from the fridge. "Not gonna scold you, just saying, you know?"

"She didn't want to leave anyone behind. Even you with a handsy bot, Chuckles." Jonas offers a faint smile at Kyle's humor. "Oh, I like her. Just remember - this side towards enemy is not just a helpful suggestion." comes the retort. His hand rests on Charlie's for a moment, giving it a squeeze. "So, I guess this means I'm out of Fox Force Four, huh? Didn't really have the legs for it after all." A weak smile is given as Kyle will find two containers. One with the Apple Betty, the other with cookies for Charlie that Jonas didn't know that Lyn had placed in there.

"No, this is the time to talk about it. What happened out there." he frowns a little. "Arda wants to go to Ryan and ask for a demotion. She's going to try to take the blame for this and fall on her own sword because she says she's unfit for command. Something froze her out there last night, but I don't agree with how she's handling it."

"Explosives are worse than... you know, I can't think of much on that list right now. You'll have to get back to me later." Charlie glances to the hand on hers and flashes Jonas a brief smile, turning her own to return the squeeze. She retracts, then, but only to grab her sandwich. She is spending her lunch hour here and her stomach is clambering for sustenance. The partially-eaten fare is picked up and she takes a bite, shrugging. "It's the lot of recon to spend days in the field waiting for pickup. We were stocked for it. I'd rather bunk down somewhere and wait than see a fellow marine laid up like this." She glances back to Jonas with a brief quirk of lips in sympathetic smile.

It fades, quickly, when he mentions Arda requesting a demotion. "She shouldn't. She should like her AAR and leave it at that. It's up to the brass to demote or punish or whatever. But this-" she jabs her sandwich at the air with lack of anything specific to indicate. "...is why I avoid promotions. Frak up just enough at the small things to make them second-guess doing so." She glances down at the bars on her uniform and makes a face. "...not that it worked this time. I miss Lance sometimes. Gotta put more doodles in my paperwork, I guess."

Kyle comes up with some of the Apple Betty, despite giving the cookies a once-over. Apple Betty can be cookies, right? One smelled more like apple than the other. "So-" Kyle nibbles at her treat and whisks her hair away from her lips. "I don't know what the frak Fox Force Four is. I'm assuming that's some kind of joke about recon being such a dick free zone that we've got to be mouthy to make up for it, and no one's really asked me what I think about this, but..." Kyle noms into the treat, chewing and holding up a finger, signifying a pause, as she's about to speak with her mouth full.

"Iff she wanna get demoted guzz she don' want the lead," GULP. Kyle swallows and clears her throat. "Then being someone who doesn't know Arda so well? Not being a bitch about it." Kyle places her hand to her chest. "Then she should bring that shit up to her next in line. Therapy, demotion, whatever. This stuff is too serious to get all pussy-foot with."

"Dunno where it came from, really. First I heard was Erin bringing it up. So probably." Jonas says to Kyle, holding up a hand in a 'don't shoot the messenger' style. "You're right, though. She should be taking this up with her sergeant, not with Ryan." he agrees with her as he reaches up to itch his nose. At least his face is somewhat exposed.

"I was hoping that her fellow squadies would intercept her before she did this. We may not get along anymore.." Understatement of the war, right there, but I doubt she's thinking straight at the moment and wants to blame herself for what happened last night, but I think she needs a couple of days before she goes making that decision." It's the same reason he didn't go to command to throw Rothschild under the Raptor. He's hoping for some self-correction and improvement."

Jonas is laid up in the bed, pretty well bandaged. Picon Charlie is surfer mode in a chair, leaned back in it reverse style all casual while Kyle is munching on a container from the fridge marked 'Toxic' but contains an Apple Brown Betty. One can guess where that came from.

Abigail, for her part, seems to also have just been returning to sickbay from wherever she was meant to have been until just a few minutes ago. She's carrying a pile of paperwork, as well as a tablet, the sort suited for reading magazines and things. As quiet as this back end of sickbay actually is, it's uncertain how much she may or may not have heard of the ongoing conversation, as she skirts the bed with one of her men in it (that would be Addison), on the way to the bed holding the other one (that would be Jonas), "Personally, I think Marilyn Arda can go frak herself. Often and well." It's actually isn't often, that Abigail Walker actually looked murderous, but she does today. Even seeing Jonas awake and mostly aware doesn't lighten her mood.

"I've not heard it before," Charlie admits, of the 'Fox Force Four' title. "But it sounds like something Hayes would come up with." She's looking fairly in good health, herself, save for some extra padding around the chest under her duty greens. Bandaging. The woman is on mid-shift break, which means lunch. The only real sign (besides the food and casual hanging out) is that her sleeves are rolled up. She takes a bite of her sandwich, glancing across to Kyle with a nod of agreement. "Mercer, not Ryan. Hells, Mercer'd have a good suggestion for her, if nothing else." She reaches for her water bottle for a long drink to wash down the sandwich. "...someone new putting these together," she opines, looking down to her chosen meal. "they forgot the condiments." Bleh. There's a glance up as Abigail approaches and a flinch for the words from the woman.

"Honestly, blame ought to go to me for this one." Wagner sits up slightly straighter. "If they'd just gone for extraction and left me, Ingvar would be fine." Hey! Maybe someone will finally agree with her!

Kyle is mid-bite when Jonas announces just how high Lyn wants to take it up. She makes a choked sound as she swallows then covers her lips with her fist, coughing against it. One time and her windpipe is clear, though her eyes water as she swallows it back down. "...She wanted to take it up to the Colonel? Frak." Kyle shakes her head and coughs once more. "Brass don't get us like NCOs do. They're political; we're family. She should take it to f-." A new voice! Kyle stops mid-sentence and looks over to Abigal, brows furrowing quickly, curiously, at her words.

"We weren't gonna leave you, Specks. Hangon." Kyle holds up a finger to Jonas and Charlie, chin lifting to the newcomer, Abigail, who she doesn't know any better than ninety-five percent of the rest of the Vanguard's crew. "All due respect?" A beat. "Arda's on my squad." Kyle then looks for rank on Abigail, mouth moving before eyes.

"Gale..." Jonas starts to say, and then Kyle speaks up. That takes down the facade for just a moment of the happy-go-lucky I'm gonna be fine Jonas Ignvar. "Kyle, this is Staff Sergeant Abigail Walker. It's because of her and her brother that we knew of the prisoner camp in the first place." he points out, a glance towards her as he raises his hand to beckon for Abigail to set up between him and Lieutenant Addison Walker, said brother, who is resting in another bed.

"She's family." comes the retort. Squad is important, but Abigail is his family, as far as he's concerned. "And she's dealt with Arda before." Now, his attention returns to Abigail. "...she's going to the Colonel to put in her report. Which is frakked up for the wrong reasons. She's going to piss off Mercer and most of her squad.. which by the way, we're all one big squad, Costello.." he finishes that thought, "...because Ryan's going to stick his nose up Mercer's ass, and that shit rolls downhill." he points out. "Sergeant Walker, this is Corporal Kyle Costello, new recon."

Abigail, setting down the pile she brought with her, takes the time to roll up the sleeves of her black battle dress. The black's like colour coding. Have bomb will travel. A tip of her chin, but no smile, for Wagner, Abigail's eyes narrowing even further as she sees the medical pushup bra Charlie's picked up post mission. "All due respect...Corporal, we're all Wolves. We may all have different skills, but we don't divide shit up like that. Not anymore. If you choose to, you're going to end up with more problems than you know what to do with." Abigail doesn't settle, instead remaining on her feet, as she looks between the people in the group, "So Arda wants to what? Get herself a mast? Wants to take the fall? I say go right the frak ahead. What the every living frak was she thinking on that mission? Your team had one frakking job. Recon, no rescue, no close contact. Your one job was to find the prison camp my brother was held at. You saw a transport, frak the transport. You should have marked it and let command know so they could prepare an insertion team. Her job, Wagner, was to tell you to keep the fuck back. Instead, she let you go in there and then, what the frak. Yeah, let's blow up a godsdamned building? Does she have any idea how frakked those prisoners likely are now, now that the cylons believe the colonial forces are sniffing around their territory? If any of them are even still alive right now? That blood is on her hands. That's the fucking reality of command. If she can't hack it, then she damned well deserves to be demoted. Maybe what she needs, is to stick to what she's good at."

"The transport saw recent use. I figured it was being used to move the prisoners. Which meant it likely had coordinates logged for the camps. I was hoping to get in and out- we wouldn't have had to get too close to the actual camps themselves." Charlie's shoulders rise and fall. She had her reasoning. "Then I heard movement on board. Could've been a refugee." She peels more wrapper off her too-dry sandwich. "...it wasn't." Frakkin' nannybot. "Leaving me would've been preferable to blowing up a building," she points out, blithely. "Much quieter. And one person can still maneuver. I knew the town. Might've been able to complete the mission eventually." Probably not, but she's not going to back down from her stance easily. No while Jonas is laid up like he is. "So she frakked up command. Some people aren't suited. Still doesn't mean she should run to Ryan. That's liable to get us all frakked in the long run."

Kyle's eyes narrow the moment she realizes she's just headbutted a wall. The Apple Betty treat is held high and wide, to the side, as arms come out in a half-surrendering gesture for Abigal. "Alright, alright, Sergeant. Bad call on me." Kyle steps down with a hail mary breath to her tone, eyes lifting high and away from all three of the gathered. OOPS. In looking away, Kyle purses her lips to one side and pinches the ridge of her nose when Abigail gets to 'brother'. "Frak." The pinch leaves behind a crumb against her eyebrow, which falls to the floor when Kyle turns to better face the three.

"Specks..." Kyle mutters under her breath, sighing. In textbook ways, Kyle crosses her arms beneath her breasts and looks down to the floor. "...she's right. Frak, I'm not brown-nosing, I swear, because I hate bitches like that, but we were on observe-and-report. We got briefed no-take on refugees, no contact." Kyle swallows and scans their faces, then ends up on Abigail's. "Costello with a C when it comes time for more boots on the ground to get your brother, Sarge."

Jonas isn't interested in the Brown Betty. Instead, he reaches for his ice chips and lets out a breath. For once, the usually vocal Sergeant is quiet, because well, in the idea and concept of chosing your battles, this is one he's going to haul ass for the shelter from.

"The mission, was to find the camp, or camps. Unless there was some clause in there Jonas didn't tell me about, that said that the brass wasn't interested in anything like...oh, I don't know, knowing how well defended they were, maybe getting a headcount of possible survivors, so our forces would know how many troops to send in? You should not have gone in there, Charlie. But that wasn't your call, at the end of the day, it was hers. She was the marine in charge." Abigail shakes her head, as she finally moves to approach Jonas' bed, a hand settling on whatever part of him isn't bandaged, at the moment. So probably not his head. "Also," she offers, her tone abruptly cooled. As if having exploded all over sickbay, she's spent all of her venom. The real culprit isn't here, anyway, "My brother's fine, well, at least not dead, Costello," she chucks a thumb back to where Addison is sleeping, though the curtain is drawn, so it isn't possible to see him, "My team brought him back a few days ago. His intel was what lead to this mission."

"But thank you for the concern. We're all going to need that, if we want to have any hope of salvaging this mission."

A shake of Abigail's head, "And I'm sorry I exploded. I'm just...Lyn Arda seems to have an eternal need to play the victim, the martyr, to whip herself, or get other people to do it until she bleeds. So of course she's doing to go to Ryan. Because she doesn't care, in the end, how it's going to effect all of you. She just wants to do herself as much injury as she can. But even knowing that, I'm not going to try to stop her. She's the reason my man is lying in this bed. I can't forgive that, even if I do thank you, both of you, for bringing him back."

"You'd abandon a refugee, like you left me, a wholly capable marine?" Charlie asks this of Kyle, in a low voice after washing down a bite of sandwich with a sip of water. "The transport, like I said, probably had coordinates for the camps logged in its drive. That's what I was aiming for. One stop, for all the camps, versus running around with patrols. It would've completed the mission in a neat little package." She just wasn't expecting a nannybot of all things. The woman takes in a deeper breath in the wake of her words and flinches as it presses against the cracked rib. She lifts a hand to press against the spot, leaning back in the chair to close her eyes for a moment. "So she's not cut out for mission command. Shit happens. Chances are she won't get in to see Ryan anyway. Colonel's a busy man. Way that shit usually goes is his office will ask her to submit through Mercer first... Mercer will find out she went over his head and corner her for a chat. She'll probably get NJP'd at worst and that'll be that. We've seen -- and heard -- of worse."

Kyle stuffs the last of the Apple Betty past her teeth, using the edge of a finger to stuff it in. Her lips clamp over her finger, sucking it clean as jaw begins to mash, chew, and pulverize the last of the treat. Then, she's back to capping her elbows with her palms in a hug of her athletic torso, ribcage et all, beneath her breasts...and watches. "I left no one, Specks, I followed an order to retreat and maintain silence, and seeing as how some civilians can be dumbass enough to whisper at the wrong place at the wrong time? Yeah, all it takes is one excited refugee to frak up rescue for how many hundreds of others?" Kyle waves her hand, fingers swaying with a shake of her head. "Don't friendly fire my way; I was doing my job. There's a bigger picture, here."

Kyle waves her hand again and clears her throat, openly planting her palm on the edge of Jonas' bed. She looks straight at him.

"Get well soon." Kyle sharply nods, then looks to Abigail and Charlie. "Look, you guys, it's not my frakking place or rank to direct traffic, but this is a lot of energy, boyfriends, brothers, is it about the mission or the Arda or the brother or the boy? I dunno." Kyle takes a step back and half-smiles to them. "If Arda doesn't wanna get on the horse, then she won't. We're all big girls and slightly ventilated boy, here."

Jonas curls one hand in Abigail's, twining their fingers together, before he pats Kyle's hand with his other. "You're right. You're all right." It seems the fight has been sucked out of him as he just wants to find some comfort in Abigail's touch.

"It was meant... facetiously," Charlie says, a bit breathlessly. Her chest hurts and she's having trouble taking breaths. "Y'all didn't abandon me. I doubt you'd abandon a single refugee or escapee, either." And they can't ask the woman from Picon to consider leaving her fellow colonists. She's working on the whole 'on the job' mindset, but Wagner's not there yet. She lifts a hand to wave it, absently, towards Abigail as she speaks of how it'll fall out on them. "Don't worry about me. I gotta frak up every so often. Helps avoid being promoted. Though... they did that to me anyway, that first... official award ceremony." She makes a face. "Hell, maybe we can talk Arda into that. Lay the blame on me for this. I'll take the fall, avoid any sort of promotion for a while, everyone else gets off scott-free." She finally pushes to her feet, making another face with hand in at her side. The water bottle is grabbed. "...think I can talk a corpsman into some morpha on my way out?"

"I know I am." Kyle laughs under her breath to Jonas, drawing her hand away to take a step further from the bed, preparing to leave. "And facetious or not, all I can side with is the stuff I told my trainers I'd do when the time came to it. It's about willpower, which I've got." For now. Kyle gets another few steps before she brings her hands to her face almost scrubs, but the scent of the hospital stops her. It was bad enough that she put her finger IN HER MOUTH in a damned hospital. Kyle stops and turns back around to face them. The look she gives Charlie is, in a word, incredulous.

"What?" Blink. "No. You should talk to the docs if you're in pain and take your pitty-party stuff to your bunk and get some sleep, Spectre. This is Arda's call." Kyle puffs a strand of hair away from her eyes and gives Abigail and Jonas a flat, if not hopeless, look.

"I can see why they sent a Caprican." Kyle turns on one heel. "And I'm way too off-duty for this shit, but if people start diving over each other to shift blame and lie to the frakking Corps, you better bet on me siding with the Corps."

Jonas ain't taking any blame for this, he don't have time for that. "..you hurting, I can call a nurse over." And have Charlie held overnight, which would totally ruin her mission not to be noticed. "It was a frak up all around. We can only send in the reports and let Command decide who gets to ride the mast."

"Having you fall of Arda's sword is not going to happen, Charlie. One, you weren't to blame for a bad call on mission. Second, we can't afford to lose you to whatever punishment, even if they did believe you, they might hand down to you. We don't have enough recon and certainly not enough snipers to handle losing you in the fight. Third, all of your other teammates, including Arda, whether you think her solution misguided or not, know what happened out there. And Costello is right. I know you marines," says Abigail, the woman who wears a marine uniform, but didn't start out as one, "like to play tough, but you're not doing yourself or any of us any favours pretending that you don't need medical care. That being said, go see Hallowell. I think she's on duty. She'll get you fixed up."

"It's not a pity party," Charlie points out. "This isn't going to cause anyone to get thrown a court martial. Just a mark in a jacket. I'm just seeing a way to avoid being promoted for a while is all. And if it keeps Arda from frakking everyone over by running in front of Ryan..." Charlie shrugs. To her, it's a win-win. No one's had Words with her over her cartoony doodles on her paperwork, so clearly she needs to up Mission: No Promotion. The woman lifts her hand from her chest to her hair, glancing Jonas-ways. "Just in a bit of pain, is all, and I'm not ashamed to admit it's more than a analgesic will help... But it's not enough to strap me to a bed for the night." When Abigail mentions Hallowell, she gestures to the woman with the waterbottle. "I'll track her down."

"No. It wasn't a frak up all around, but we win or lose as a team." Kyle waves her hand behind her back. "Gunny Artigue drilled that into my skull." Kyle adds, twisting her finger against her temple. Her voice changes to a gruff accent. "Yoo' gotta be on yar game even if yar' squad fraks. All the time. On tha' line." End husky, derpy voice. Kyle sidesteps away from a nurse to stop and watch Charlie. A pained look rickets over Kyle's features, and her mouth opens to say something, but she stops herself. Willpower wins over. Lower lip sucks between teeth and she presses her palm to her neck, elbow bent out, and turns.

While holding onto Abigail's hand, Jonas closes his eyes. "Headache like you wouldn't believe." he murmurs, and presses the morpha button, closing his eyes as his IV is infused with the pain reliever as he tries to chase away the bright lights of the room and find some rest.

"If anyone talks to her, it's not going to be me. Not only because I wasn't on the mission. Anything that comes out of my mouth is going to sound like me trying to wrongfoot her out of spite, and I don't have the strength to deal with that ever again, and certainly not now with these two needing looking after. So talk to her if you want, but just know that it might not get you a good result. Might want to think about approaching Mercer, letting the Gunny know what's going on, so he can try to head her off at the pass." See? Abigail can try to offer a solution, even if doesn't feel particularly charitable.

"Spend too long in here and they might start to think you're a corpsman," Charlie points out, taking another sip of water. Trying to head off the pain. It's what they tell you, in the field. It never works and yet... it becomes habit. Pulled muscle? Drink water. GSW? Drink water. "They've got people looking after them." AKA: you need sleep, Sarge. But she's starting her way out, intending to find that Hallowell in hopes of getting something a bit stronger to tide her through the rest of her shift.


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