A few pilots discuss what might happen to them, while the Vanguard is in drydock.
Location: Biscayne Terminal
Related Scenes: None
Scene Number: 307
The new birds are checked in and signed off. Will they get to fly them again? Who knows. Will they be in that nice shape again if they do? Again, who knows. The other Vanguard pilots might not be so kind. Astraea has had a chance to change out of the flight suit and into the sweats she's gotten from the Picon Navy. They barely fit, but it works. Navy blue sweat pants and a heather gray t-shirt. She's tucked into a table at the food court with a meal -- burger, fries, soda -- and the sketchbook she managed to purchase earlier in the morning.
The food court, overall, is fairly quiet. Most of the 'stalls' are closed, but a few have remained open for the Vanguard refugees. What they have might not be free across the board, but it's at least discounted. People do care about those protecting them, it'd seem.
Eva is judging you, Biscayne Bay concessions. She's judging you hard. Because really, what does a girl have to do to get a decent cookie around here? All of these cookies look terrible. Who likes sugar cookies with crazy hard crumbly frosting scenes of the beach on top? Nobody, that's who. Screw you, too, flip flop cookie. So mostly, she just looks angry, as she stands there, tray in hand, already with a salad and two egg salad sandwiches. She even remembered a drink.
Emrys has found a stall selling those strange meat dishes with sickly sweet sauce common to food courts everywhere, which he seems very enthusiastic about. "You look awful cross for saying they haven't run out of egg salad sandwiches yet." He remarks to Eva, as the woman stands there in cookie-less fury.
The cookies must have been eschewed by Astraea as well because the Scorpian pilot has none on her tray, either. Much like Eva, she usually has some sort of sweets, but no. Just the burger and fries. Well, plus a wrapper for another burger, but that one's already done and gone. She reaches over every so often to pick up a fry to nibble on. For the moment, she's just working on a sketch, going through the pile of colored pencils every so often to pick one out before going back to the drawing. It's a smaller sketchbook than she usually works with and it has her more hunched over. Less likely to notice anyone on approach. The table, at least, has three other seats.
Eva looks up, as she hears herself being addressed, and Emrys gets a glare himself, as if he were personally responsible for removing all the good cookies from this case. "What the hell, do they think they are selling in this place?" She gestures with the tray, "No wonder the passengers are always mental." A sniff, and she releases the rage, dipping forward to see what it is he happens to be, "That...takes a strong constitution. You sitting?" She turns, looking to see where there might be a free space. Ah. Nova.
Emrys does not wither under the glare. Rather he just gazes back at Eva, as she rants about cookies. There's a grin then. "Yep. Guilty pleasure of mine. You can find it at every food court it seems like, and it's always wonderfully awful." A half-shrug. "I could sit, sure." His eyes follow hers, and he'll begin heading that way.
So absorbed in her drawing is she that Astraea won't even notice the two older pilots on their approach. Even when she pauses to reach for a fry or her drink, it's mechanical. Just a blind grab for one or the other to transport it to her mouth before she's back to her task. Sometimes the book is angled this way or that to get a better line or bit of light from the tubes far ahead, but she's focused on her task. Somewhere along the way she picked up a couple pens as well (a marker, actually, in one case). A small 'emergency kit' of drawing supplies, as it were. Nothing perfect, but something to keep her occupied. The drawing is a full page... which isn't saying much, for the small size of the notebook-turned-sketchbook, but it means they'll be able to see what she's working on (something akin to: https://i.ytimg.com/vi/hvfkARG-_a0/hqdefault.jpg) as they approach.
Eva just gives the carton in Emrys' hand a dubious look, before she heads off to the free spots at Nova's table. Eva won't just barge in and sit down, though, as she sees Astraea is working on something. Instead, she'll move over to the other side and put herself in view of the woman before she excuses herself, "Mind if we sit, Nova?" So even if Emrys isn't also in view, she'll know Eva isn't alone.
Emrys will hover and check out the drawing, since Eva is making the actual request for them. He does chime in, however, with "That's a nice piece.". Nothing to be nervous about, Astrea. Just Emrys and Eva hovering over you, checking out your art.
"Huh?" Astraea looks up, a fry midway to her mouth. "Of course, it's the-" Right. Not the mess hall. They aren't on the Vanguard. It's a food court in a spaceport on a planet she barely knows. The woman continues the progress of the salty potato and chews before just nodding and gesturing vaguely to the other chairs. "Of course," she manages after she swallows, sitting up a bit straighter. She unfolds one foot out from under her. She looks to Emrys, then down to the sketch, "Oh, uh, thanks. I... don't have my usual stuff, so it's just... y'know, keepin' busy I guess."
"Thank you." Eva settles into one of the free seats, leaving Emrys to select from one of the other two. "It's weird, right? All these civilians walking around, staring at us, wondering what we're doing while they're waiting to catch their flights?" Because it is a crazy juxtaposition, the military and the life trying to carry on as usual. "I know exactly. I have piles of busy work and nothing with me. It is very good."
Emrys settles into a seat, nodding agreement with the general sentiment. "It is weird. And I feel really restless. I don't have anything to do, all my hair product is back on Vanguard..." Priorities, people. "I feel like I should be enjoying the rest but if anything it's stressful."
Another couple fries are eaten as they settle in and Astraea looks up, over her shoulder to the rest of the starport. Or at least the food court. "It's..." she seems about to say more, but falters. "It could be worse," she finishes, lamely. There's a look to Emrys and a furrow of her brow. "They sell that stuff in th'shops." And then she adds on, as she hunches back over the sketch with another pencil to start shading in a few places. "It ain't rest. It's waitin' for th'next step of your life to begin."
"Even you, could not fill up all of your freetime with combing your hair, Emrys." of course, he'll likely take that as a challenge now. "yes, it certainly could, but it's still a strange situation, to be a new goldfish in the tank to be stared at." She tucks into her sandwich, making a face in Emrys direction, still giving that container in his hand the side eye, "Next step? or just the same step?"
"I keep forgetting there are actual shops here." Emrys admits at Astraea's words. "I'll have to go look through them at some point." Ther's a raised eyebrow at the challenge about combing his hair. "I bet I could, too." The container is opened and he begins to eat. "So bad...and so good."
"Next step," Astraea says quietly as she works, pulling the notebook a bit closer to her. She's lost the rest of the conversation for the moment. "Get yer things. Go here. Someone speaks to ya, as a crowd or mebbe privately. Gives ya some options, or just tells ya where to go." One of her shoulders rises and falls in a small shrug. "Might be better or us, bein' Fleet. Bet we're not goin' back to the Vanguard though. They need us in the fight. Lived on Scorpia too long, I know. Ship in drydock is there for months."
Eva considers as she bites into her sandwich, chewing thoughtfully, before she sets down the sandwich in favour of the salad. Apparently she does that food mixing thing even in polite company, "Not right away, I don't think. But staying and working out of this spaceport isn't going to work wither. Because eventually, they cylons are going to follow us back here and they'll take this place for spite."
Emrys managed to get some of those potato pieces with butter, too. They go great with the variety of different kinds of chicken with names like golden dancer or canceron delight. Pausing in devouring the awful goodness, he looks between the other two. "You think they'll dissolve the Wolves, then? Just mix us back into the main Fleet?"
"Can't keep us here forever, no," Astraea agrees quietly with a shake of her head. "'Cause the Cylons would come, in force. It's already a good target. We make it an even better one." She swallows, working more at the sketch before leaning back to reach for the other burger to start unwrapping it after setting down the pencils and sitting back. She looks to Emrys and gives a small shrug. "Dunno. Mebbe? Or just ship us all off to another ship. But it's how this... works. Bein' a refugee. You... spin yer wheels for a bit an' then get pointed off somewhere."
Eva shakes her head, as she takes her form, cleaning it off with a napkin, before she leans in, to spear some piece of the things masquerading as food from Emrys' carton, "Tey've put too much work and time and effort into the wolves to dissolve us. Especially because we've been so effective. My guess, is they'll either find us a more secure ground based location, or they'll move us to another ship until the Vanguard is repaired." She glances to Astraea, "You sound like you have some experience with refugees."
"Ground based location could have some advantadges, but sooner or later we're going to have to go back to a ship to be truly mobile." Emrys muses. At the talk of refugees, though, he falls silent and just concentrates on his food. That's an area he knows both of the women at the table likely know a lot more about than he does.
"They won't want somethin' like the Wolves ground based, no. We'll probably be put on another ship, iff'n they keep us together." Astraea goes quiet for a long moment, staring at her burger. She swallows, voice quiet: "I... really hope they keep us together. I... I oughta start spendin' extra time wth some folks just in case." She looks rather worried before Eva's comment resurfaces in her memory and she looks up suddenly, eyes a bit wide. "Me? Uh, oh, yeah. I- I guess I do."
"Not for the duration, no, but if it takes them a while to find us a new station, there's no reason for them not to keep us here, or move us to another temporary ground assignment where we can still be effective." And there's sympathy, in Eva's expression, "Sadly, none of us know that. Even if they do keep the Wolves together, duty assignments change. Especially in times of war. None of us have the luxury of more time. The only time you have is now. Always now. So don't put off what you want to do now, thinking a better time or place might come. It probably won't." Eva does manage to steal some of Emrys' food, popping it into her mouth before he can protest. "You have anything else in the sketchbook?"