Emrys and Eva explore questions of life and the recent mission. Also, big hair.
Location: Head, Later Mess Hall, //Vanguard//
Scene Number: 291
"Yeah. Me too." Eva takes the stairs up at a good clip. She even manages to keep the conversation moving as she does, "I know we want to have hope...but I don't know where we're going to find it, Emrys. We're fighting a war of attrition here. We can't reproduce as quickly as they can, we can't survive under the same conditions. We can't come back from defeat as quickly as they can. And every time we lose someone, it's not just the body is it?" She heads, first, to the berthings, to pick up a change of clothes, her kit, allow him time to grab his, before she heads, well, to the head, "We lose pieces of our souls. And you can't fix that."
Emrys gets his things together thoughtfully, considering her words as they head to the head. "Everything in this damn war eats at the soul." He finally admits. "Did you see what they were flying? Picon Naval birds. They knew what would make us mad enough to chase them, alright."
Eva slips inside, passing a pair of marines, from the look of them, on their way out, heading over to the benches and setting down her kit, before she turns to quickly strip out of her flight suit. Shes angled so that she can still carry on the conversation, "Yes. It does." A thoughtful expression, as she thinks back, "Actually, flying, yes, but...Milkman called them something, 393 Squadron. We encountered them once before, on another mission. I got the impression that they actually had been an all cylon squadron, before the uprising." Her lips compress into a grim line, "So, I suppose they were flying their own birds. Not ours."
"You know, I didn't catch the implictions of that at the time." Emrys notes as he also works on stripping down. Too busy worrying about other things, presumably. "But you're right. Frak, that's what I hate the most about this whole thing I think. It's literally just us punching ourselves in the face, via them." The emotions are coming out more, now. The heat and frustration he didn't throw at Nova.
Eva folds away her things, leaving them on the spot of bench in from of one of the empty lockers, before she heads towards the showers, grabbing up the bag of toiletries and her towel on the way. Thankfully, she's pretty well healed, so no bandages to worry about getting wet. "That's exactly what it feels like. Too often for my taste. We win a battle, we take one step forward, and then something happens and we find out we're two steps back. Look at Picon. We thought we were doing so well, had the cylons under control...on Canceron, on Tauron. They're there, but we're getting them under control, right? Or so we believe. And then we get to this place, and it's a shit show." Eva finds a shower, not far from where Emrys is, so she won't need to yell over the sound of water, tossing the towel onto the railing.
Emrys gets the shower next door, so they can continue the conversation. "It is a shit show. But we're tidying it up, little by little." Or so he wants to believe. "I just hope that when this is all over, the people who get to rebuild remember that feeling of punching ourselves in the face and learn from it. But you know what they say, hindsight is always twenty-twenty."
Eva, in true redhead fashion, handles her hair first. It practically has a life of its own. Shampoo first, her words coming between bouts of silence as she rinses, "I keep trying to see it that way. Every time we actually make a smart move. Every time we seem to effect a positive change." Once the soap's out, it's conditioner and then to let it sit while she starts to take care of the rest. It's a process. "We can only hope. If we get to fifty, a hundred, two hundred years from now and it's this all or something just as bad all over again..."
Emrys, in true dude with relatively short hair fashion, is a lot quicker. "Well, the good news is we won't be around to see it anyway. Well, you might if we're talking fifty years. I don't think I want to be ninety." There's a pause for rinsing, and then finally he pops the question. The big one that's been on the tip of his tounge since the deck. "Eva...what would you have done, if it had been your flight today?"
Eva glances over, more than a good dash of humour in her expression, "You don't? What if you'd finally found that guy you used to know?" Finally a few minutes behind, and she's rinsing out conditioner and about ready herself. But the question gives her pause, and she turns to the shower controls, turning the water up, hot enough to steam the air. As close as she's likely to get to being able to relax in a hot tub. But hot water on aching muscles is still...hot water on aching muscles. And when she looks back, leaning forward as she is, forearms against the wal of the shower, so that the water is hitting her upper back, there's no humour in her eyes, only honesty, "The same as you, Emrys. We had a mission....stop the inbound flight on the city. We did that. We saw additional cylons, we chose not engage, rather than enter into a location where we might have been ambushed. We could have taken out those two heavies, sure. Maybe we might even have been able to take out those to 393 cypers. And maybe, as soon as we left, a dozen more would have come out of the mountains and completed the objective we denied the first set. We completed the mission to the best of our abilities and you preserved the wing and ensured that we would be ready for the next mission. That's all you can do. You keep thinking 'what if', you'll drive yourself mad."
"Not even then." Emrys assures her with a soft laugh, before falling silent to listen to that honesty. When she's finally done, he breathes a long sigh as he lets the last of it go. "Yes, I will. And I don't intend to do that. But I have to check myself, too. I don't want to get people killed someday because I'm Emrys Montjoy and I'm the best pilot I've ever known. But thank you. I needed to hear that" He stretches, washing the rest of the soap from his body and watching as it swirls down the drain.
Still a little behind the curve, Eva settles into the routine, moving in that sort of automated way that's a result of years of training yourself for efficiency. "Of course you do. But you're not the man you used to be, as you yourself noted. From what I heard of him, he was reckless and didn't pay much heed to anything amounting to self-preservation. To be honest, that sounds more like me than you, all things considered. But I don't think you have anything to worry about in that regard. Even if you did, you have enough good pilots in the wing to keep you on the straight and narrow." A final rinse, and she's reaching for the towel with one hand, turning off the water with the other, eyes focused on Emrys downturned face, "You still are, you know. The best pilot you've ever known."
"Well, back in the day I didn't realize I could die." Emrys is matter of fact about it. Dice was young, dumb, and full of viper fuel. There's a wry grin at her latter words, as he looks up from contemplating the drain. "Stop it, you'll make me blush. Seriously, though, I appreciate it. I just...it's important I never let that knowledge get the best of me."
"The invincibility of youth." Eva wraps the towel around herself, stepping away from the wet tiles before she begins toweling off, "Now you're just being coy. I'm not sure you know how. But it's an honest critique, and meant to be so. And the fact that you have enough perspective to be able to come to that realization is a good thing."
"Know how to blush? No idea." Emrys admits cheerfully, as he dries off. "Being coy is kind of a new thing, too." There's a half-shrug. "Well, even I've learned a bit as I've gone along. You realize if I'd stayed in I'd be retired by now?" It doesn't sound like anything more than a comment on his age.
Eva leaves her hair for last, so that she can take the towel and twist her hair into it for maximum water removal, securing it on top of her head, before she heads back with her bag for her clothes, "Am I allowed to ask why? You know, since you gave me permission to pry and all." A nod follows, at the comment, "Yes. And you'd still have ended up back here again, having re-upped because you couldn't just sit by and let the war pass you by."
Emrys is just a little bit ahead, starting to dress, because he has far less drying off to do. "Sure. Why what, though?" Apparently he's not sure what the question is. There's a grin then. "True enough. You know me suprisingly well."
Eva leaves the towel on as she begins to dress. Casual clothes, tanks, sweats, though no hoodie. "Why did you decide that you needed to learn to be coy? You weren't in the military anymore, you could have done as you pleased, with no risk of reprisal." An answering smile, but it's thoughtful as well, "When I was at the Academy, I wasn't only teaching, Emrys, I was learning too. Better technique, both as a pilot and as a teacher. And...you were Virgon. I needed to make sure I took your measure." And there's an unhappy twist to her lips, at that. A regret, perhaps, that she lumped you in with the rest of the Virgon pilots.
Emrys has thrown on PTs, because they have a variety of uses and are actually pretty comfy. "Well, it turns out that in the civilian world our culture doesn't translate so well. I had to learn to tamp down on it some. Go along to get along at work and all that." He listens to her latter words, nodding thoughtfully. "Makes sense. I would have done the same thing." And there's a moment of his own regret, perhaps for the fact that twenty years ago he /was/ that stereotypical Virgon pilot.
Amusement finds Eva's face once again, as she finally pulls off the towel, heading over to the sinks to finish up, pulling a brush from her bag to get started with her hair, "Some...but this is..." she pauses, considering, "Beyond what I might have expected. But then...I only knew you from the outside. I have a feeling I don't know you half as well as it might seem." She turns, away from the sinks, but using the edge to lean against, as she detangles, and then begins to separate her hair into two sections.
Hair after drying off. This is where Emrys will slow down, and maybe even be overtaken. Up to the mirrors, and out comes the product and the comb. It takes work to make it look like that. "Probably not. I'm a man of mystery, or so I've been told." It's hard to tell if he's joking or not. "Still, underneath all of this.." A gesture to himself. "I'm actually a pretty normal guy, I like to think."
Eva, all things considered, is rather low maintenance. So once her hair's combed, it's a pair of leonese braids, the ends falling behind her back, and then a tooth brush. There's not a trace of makeup in sight, which means she's either supremely confidant, or just plain lazy. Either or. She sets to brushing, continuing the conversation in fits and starts, "Yes, I'm beginning to get that impression." And then, a tilt of her head, as she gives him a once over. "Well," comes the lightly drawled reply, "Having had a gander at the underneath...yes, quite."
Emrys is low maintenance everywhere except the hair. Painstaking comb work, with regular returns for more product. Eventually he'll run out all together, and then what? Maybe that's what's in his locker. Just stacks of product tubs. There's a smirk at his reflection at the latter words. "Nice one, Eva."
Eva's smile is absolutely angelic, as she rinses out her toothbrush, and then sets to work putting all of her things back into her bag, "You did say I wasn't to compliment you, lest it go to you head. And who am I to argue?" She isn't above watching you wrestle your hair into order, though, because it's...a process.
"You're a trip, you know that?" Emrys glances your way for a moment. It doesn't seem to be a complaint, quite the opposite exactly. And then it's back to putting the finishing touches on his hair. "And....done!"
Eva flashes a grin, waggling her brows in time, before she tucks her bag under her arm, grabbing up her towel as well, "Now who's the one giving compliments?" A glance around the head, and then a check of the time, "What do you say we dump the suits back in the berthings and go and grab something to eat?" As to the hair, "I can see now why it never moves, even after it's been in a helmet for a whole duty shift."
Emrys considers this for a moment. "Yeah, sounds like a plan. I could use some chow." He agrees readily enough, before nodding. "It adds to the mystique, I find. I can come back riddled with holes and half an engine and my hair is still perfect."
Eva heads back to the lockers, making a stop to gather her suit and clothes, and then Emrys', the latter of which she hands off once she gets back to the sinks, "So...I should just act as though this is one of those Ancient Virgon Secrets, and never mention it to anyone...ever?" She'll wait, until he's ready, before they head to the berthings to dump gear and head down to the Mess.
"Well, that'd be sweet of you but really probably everyone figured it out. I dunno, maybe there's some Ensign that thinks I'm just that cool." Emrys responds. The berthings are driven through, and off to the Mess. "You know what always annoys me about the Mess? Nobody knows how to soft-boil an egg. Or they just won't. I brought my egg cup and everything." Of course he did. Virgons.
"Perhaps that should be a secondary goal, Emrys. Primary goal...don't get myself, or anyone else killed. Secondary goal, convince Ensigns that I really am just that cool." Once they're heading into the Mess, Eva slows a bit to try to gauge the tenor of the line, and the possibility of a place to sit, "See...this is where you need connections, Emrys. What you need to do..is find yourself someone who has access to the galley, and then...you just go in there and make them any old way you want."
"Oh, please. Ensigns are like...nineteen." Emrys laughs. "My ego isn't quite that fragile, to need a bunch of teenagers fawning over me." He contemplates her words. "That's...certainly a way of doing it. I never really picked up cooking, but I'm sure I could successfully boil an egg." Of course he could. Absolutely.
"Correction...Ensigns used to be nineteen. Now we're at war. We have an Ensign who's 30. She joined after the war started. They come in all shapes and sizes now." She indicates herself, "They even let me get away with this. It's fantastic." Eva was much more within regs, when Emrys knew her in her late 20s. "Well, depending on how hungry you are, and if you're in the mood for eggs, I could certainty show you now...or we can schedule your lesson for another time." She tips her head, heading towards the line, to see what all is on offer.
"It is pretty fantastic." Emrys agrees, with a light drawl of his own. The line is considered. "Honestly, I'm starving after that op. Maybe egg-lessons another time, when I'm looking for more of a light snack." He too surveys the line. "I always come back hungry from those things, for some reason."
"Cheeky beggar." Eva falls into step with the rest of the people queuing up. "We'll schedule a lesson then...for the next time we're both on a free shift..and you want a light snack." It's the standard fare in the mess, really, buffet style, meats, veggies, salad, sandwiches, desserts. It's not fancy, but it's filling, "Probably because you don't have a bag of emergency rations in your ship like I do. Also, because you're doing constant, relentless work for six hours." She waits for Emrys to join, before she starts picking this or that.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Emrys replies in dulcet, innocent, tones. There's a nod of agreement. "This is true. No emergency rations. That and I tend to go up a little hungry anyway. It's good to have an edge." In many ways, he's all edges in contrast to her. "I'm just going to eat a big plate of basically everything, I think."
"Mmhmm." Eva flashes a grin, before she makes close enough to grab a tray and pass one back to Emrys. And then it's just a matter of picking out what seems the most appetizing. A salad, and then...looks like stew is one of the options, and isn't navy meat always best served with a thick obscuring gravy? So stew it is, and canned peaches. And asparagus. Yes, eating formerly tinned asparagus...the sign of true bravery. "Aren't you glad they don't charge you by the pound?"
"Thanks." Emrys grabs the tray and begins to load it up with the various options. "I really am. I never used to eat this much as a kid, and then I hit the Academy and suddenly dinnertime became an exercise in weightlifting." A pause as he considers some very sad looking carrots. "These don't even look good. I'm still going to eat them."
"Now you're just trying to make me jealous. Next you'll tell me you can eat anything you like, and you don't gain an ounce. And you don't have to work out, and you still look fit and toned." No small amount of humour there, as Eva steps out of the line, to wait for Emrys to finish, before the hunt for a seat begins, "Try them with a sprinkle of sugar. Perks them right up."
"I don't gain weight easily, but the exercise thing is so not true. Once, maybe, but now it's something I have to realy keep up with." Emrys admits, looking around for seats. "I think there's two over there...and sugar, huh? I'll have to give it a try."
Eva turns, looking in the direction indicated and heads that way, giving a glare to anyone who looks to be trying to get to the seats before she does. "Do you box? Or what do you do for exercise that works for you? I climb, mostly. I never met a push-up I liked." The tray first, set down and pushed over to one side, before Eva slips into the bench. "One of my many secrets."
"And mess up /this/ pretty face?" Emrys asks at the talk of boxing, as they sit. "I can, but I generally don't. I run, a lot. Running and crunches. Sometimes I climb. And push-ups. I don't like them, but I still do them." He makes a face.
Eva snorts, as she looks up to Emrys as he moves to sit, "You can call it...character." She tucks in, eating a little bit of everything, rather than moving from item to item, "I've been training with Finn. He's given me three black eyes and broken my nose, so far. It's been a hoot. But I beat the pants off of him once." A distinct shake of her head, "No thank you." She lifts a fork, complete with stick of asparagus, "I should take you climbing in the ship. It's a hell of a lot more exciting than the climbing wall."
"I suppose I could call it that, yes." Emrys doesn't sound convinced. "Well, I'm glad you're having fun with it. Your nose looks like it healed well." But it's her latter words that really get his attention. "Climbing...in the ship itself, rather than that wall in the gym? How does that work out?"
Eva leans in, her voice pitched low, "That's because it was a little crooked to begin with. When I broke it, they fixed it right up." She's probably joking, "But you're right. Better to just stay good looking. It will make up for a lot of faults when you get older and crankier." She returns to her meal, picking up the conversation between bites, "The key, is to have some good gear, right? And then, to find a place on the ship, like the hangar deck, where you have a lot of exposed structural members and joins. You use them the way you would the handholds on the climbing wall. The Galactica was fantastic for it."
"No it wasn't. I remember you had..." Emrys begins, looking smug like he's caught her out. Then he pauses and reevaluates. "Anyway, you didn't have a crooked nose." He busies himself with food for a moment. "And they...just let you do that? Just climb all over the hangar deck." He's still learning the ways of the greatly relaxed CF, when compared to the Royal Navy.
Eva arches a brow, setting down her form for a moment, hands folding primly behind her plate, "What do you remember that I had, Emrys?" There's a hint of a challenge there, if a good-natured one, as if she wants to see if he'll actually rise to the bait, "I have to stay off to the side, and not get in the way of the work, and I'm not allowed down on the landing deck, because they might vent it at any moment. But I can get time in there if I ask nicely."
"I already avoided flying into one trap today, Eva. Watch how I soar away from this one too." Emrys responds to that good-nature challenge, batting at the bait but not quite taking it. "Wow. I can't believe they let you do that. I bet that's a lot more fun than climbing on a wall, though."
Eva's grin widens, as she sees Emrys refuse to take the bait, "Oh, don't worry, my pretty. I'll weasel it out of you eventually." But not today, or, at least, not right now. Instead, she sets aside the meal, for the moment, and tucks into the slice of apple pie she chose for dessert, "I think a big part of it is...I think the brass, and in this case, the chief of the deck counts as brass," despite her being enlisted, "That we need to have things that take our minds off of the war. And if we're not hurting each other, or destroying the ship...I'll take you with me, the next time you go."
"Sure you will." Emrys agrees amiably enough, as he continues with his attempt to taste everything in the mess at once. "I guess that makes sense. It's just so...different from how I'm used to doing things. Not that it's bad." A smile, then. "That would be great. It'll be nice to actually climb something real."
"That, I think, has been the biggest adjustment. Since I came, I mean. And of course, I've had months, and you've only just arrived. There's a much less ordered structure, in some ways. And I think that's to allow people from vastly different colonies to still be able to function as a unit." Eva doesn't seem to want to hog the slice of pie, instead, nudging it over in Emrys' direction, in case he wants a bite, "They've had to lighten restrictions, for the same reason. Even the frat rules are almost the complete antithesis of hat it was on Virgon, for example. It's really been a study in trying to find ways, not only to integrate people, but also to keep them mentally, not just physically healthy, with no end to the war in sight."
"Oh, thanks." Emrys will absolutely share the pie. Om nom nom. "Makes sense. And I noticed that..the frat rules and everything else, I mean." There's a pause, before he admits "The first few days, I thought my head was going to explode. Then I adjusted."
Eva only nods, not looking in the least surprised, "I know exactly how you were feeling. It was a lot to get used to, in a very short amount of time. And I think we still run into problems, even now, with people thinking things should be done one way, or another way, because it was ho it was done where they're from. It can make it difficult, if you aren't that handy at keeping people in line."
Emrys nods thoughtfully. "Fortunately that's never really been a problem for me." He observes. He and Eva are seated at one of the benches, at the tail end of what looks to have been a fairly substantial meal. "Flight instructor duty helped a lot with that, of course.
Into the Mess comes Calliope. She's dressed for duty, albeit in blues rather than her suit, so it's likely been the ship-bound short. Her jacket's unbuttoned and she's generally rumbled in that way of one unwinding after coming off it. She heads straight over to get herself some coffee. Real food? Maybe later. But coffee first.
"Oh, I'm sure you had your fair amount of practice, even before they recruited you to the Academy." Eva sets aside her fork, reaching for her glass...only to stop when she realizes that she didn't actually bring anything to drink with her. And that leads to casting her eyes over towards the drinks area, and finding Calliope. A hand, raised to greet the other woman, "How did you end up there, anyway." She doesn't know //everything about Emrys after all.
"You want me to get you something to drink?" Emrys asks, following those eyes across the drink area. He too raises a hand in greeting to Calliope, before considering the question. "Oh, family tradition really. We all do a tour in the Navy, and I knew from an early age I wanted to fly. Did a lot of private lessons ion my teens."
Calliope spots Eva, offering her a quick (if tired) smile and waving. "Cherry! Hi!" The wave expands to include Emrys, though the other pilot isn't as familiar to her. "How's the food today?" She eyes the offerings in the chow line. Like they'll magically become gourmet-level appealing if she stares hard enough.
"That would be lovely. Anything but apple. Thank you!" Eva's expression turns thoughtful, at the revelation, "So that's why you joined Academy...was that why you took a post as an instructor as well? Or did you just get shunted there?" A grin, in Calliope's direction, "It's not half bad. The stew is passable, the carrots are dire, but the apple pie's fantastic. Come and sit, after you grab something."
"I got shunted there." Emrys admits, looking dour for a moment. It's only a moment, though, because then he's up and off to fetch drinks for the both of them. When he returns, drinks in hand, and reclaims his seat the temporary gloomy look has passed.
"Stew and pie! That sounds pretty good, actually." And Calliope heads to the chow area, to get herself a bowl and plate of those things. She then heads to search for a seat of her own, heading toward Eva - and Emrys' - table. "You guys mind some company? I've been watching flight footage for three hours and my brain is, like, fried." She blinks, at the whole shunted thing. Starting to ask as question, realizing she's inserted herself with no real idea what they were talking about, then closing her mouth and sipping on her coffee.
Eva's look is a mixed bag, part commiserative, part disbelieving as she hears Emrys' estimation of how he ended up there. "Shunted implies that you were terrible, and that they needed to find someplace to send you where you would do the least amount of damage. Being a flight instructor is as far from that as it's possible to be." Eva grins, in Calliope's direction, "Soundbite just gets it." And then she scoots over, to make room for the other woman to join them, "Callie, have you met Emrys?" Of course, they've likely had duty togethe, but that isn't the same thing. "Emrys, Calliope Drake, 'Soundbite', Caprica. She's one of the original raptor pilots from the Galactica. If you hear anyone mention Bullseye in relation to some shenanigan, that used to be her." And then, to Callie, "Callie, Emrys Montjoy, 'Hawk', Virgon. new viper pilot." Another thank you, before she claims her glass. "Emrys and I spent a few years teaching at the Royal Academy Flight School."
Emrys shakes his head at that, some amusement. "I'll remind you shunted was your word. I was just answering the question. But yes...it was a great honor, and I was extremely proud to be voluntold for it." He sounds like a media soundbite, except for the word 'voluntold'. A hand is offered out to Calliope "Pleasure to meet you, I'm sure."
"I think I've seen you around, but it's kind of hard to keep up with, like, the press of humanity in the berths. Hi, again!" Calliope sits, settles her food and drink, and then reaches out to take Emrys hand. For shaking purposes. Her grip isn't terribly strong, but she's enthusiastic. "Oh, you guys know each other? Awesome. If Cherry approves, then we know you're quality. She keeps us together out there in the black when things get crazy. You weren't voluntold to post here were you?" She looks unsure whether she should be sympathetic or not.
"Especially when some of the humanity is more human than others." Shit be cray cray, if you know what she means, but Callie's estimation of the scale of Eva's approval gets a laugh, "I didn't realize that that was a thing. But yes, I approve of Hawk." And then, a glance back to Emrys, because that is an interesting question. "Inquiring minds..."
Emrys shakes his head to that question. "No. I was assigned, but it was an assignment I was very happy with." He waggles his hand, as if unsure what that makes it. "So I didn't volunteer, but I also didn't have to have it forced on me either."
"Well, welcome aboard, then," Calliope pipes. "Glad you weren't forced. That'd kind of suck for morale. We're supposed to be elite. I mean, I'm not, but Cherry is a bunch of the rest of the crew is, so I just try to blend." She chases bites of pie with coffee, then spoonfuls of stew. It is a mixed meal of debateable nutrious value, but she puts it away hungrily. "You fly Vipers or Raptors? I'm on the buses, myself. I flew civvie ships before the Cylon uprising, and liners and freighters at least have a little in common with what a Raptor does. I got into a Viper a few times in combat training and almost put my nose in the dirt."
"Says the woman who, if I am not grossly mistaken, was the first raptor pilot in the Colonial Forces to make Ace." Eva's amusement is apparent, but so is her respect for the raptor pilot. Having dinished her own meal, she seems happy to push the tray aside, leaving on the slice of pie, and enjoy the conversation. The question of what Emrys flies...she leaves for the man himself, to answer.
"Vipers." Emrys answers readily enough, before expanding. "And just about everything else. I grew up flying, then I started on raptors and moved to vipers...the usual pipeline." A pause for a drink. "I took some time out from the Navy to fly civvie ships. If it flies, I fly it."
Calliope's grin turns wry. "I mean, there are a lot of Cylons to shoot. I try and do my part." She beams at Eva's respect, though. It plainly means a lot to her. She nods to Emrys. "Nice. What kind of civvie stuff did you fly before the war? I worked for this luxury liner company out of Caprica. Did some light transports and taxi service when I was in college, too, but that was all in-atmo stuff. I didn't break orbit until after I graduated."
"If nothing else, it's good for keeping yourself in practice." Because if you don't try to think positive about the shitstorm of cylons, well...you'll get cranky. But when the conversation turns to flying outside of the military, Eva falls silent. This is so clearly outside of any experience she's ever had, it's fascinating. So she's happy to just sit and listen to the pair of them discussing their civilian lives.
"A little bit of everything. Freighters, and a few other things...I bounced around a bit." Emrys explains, adding with a wry smile "I didn't really fit in anywhere as well as I had fit in in the Navy. Never quite found that same fit in the civvie world."
"I never even thought about the military as, like, a thing I could do before the war," Calliope says. "I'd probably still be flying cruise ships if things had stayed normal." She shrugs. They did not. And so she's here. "I kind of like it, though. Does that sound weird? I mean, not the war part, obviously. But I feel like I'm actually doing something. Like I'm a part of something important. Never really had that before."
"is it that different? I've never been anything but military." Eva comes by the question honestly, but what answer she might get it cut short, as one of the yeoman assigned to officer country pops his head in, "Captain Thorne." he doesn't say it, but he has that, aggrieved, I'm here to fetch you look. Eva rises, though she picks up her tray, at least, so that she can buss it, "Excuse me. I apparently need to see a man about a dog. Emrys, I'll catch you later for that lesson, if you're up for it. Callie, see you next shift." And then she's off, heading to turn in tray and dishes before she steps out.
"It's pretty..." And then Emrys is cut off by the appearance of said yeoman. "Well, sooner her than me I suppose." A shake of his head to Calliope. "Not weird at all. I get it. There's nothing feels quite the same as being part of something big."
"It's different," Calliope assures Eva, between bites of pie. Her food is mostly gone by now. The coffee is in a tumbler that's clearly personal rather than mess-issue anyhow, so she puts it to the side. A nod to Emrys. "Yeah. That's most of it, I think. And I can't really imagine doing anything else right now. Everybody should be doing their bit. Whatever that is. Anyway. I've got to hit the showers soon, now that I'm kind of nourished. Again, welcome! Any friend of Cherry's will do real well here, I think."
"Well, thanks. I'll see you around, then." Emrys smiles as the woman announces she's getting ready to head out. "We already did the showers when we got back from the mission. I'll probably hit the rack soon myself."