2237-08-05 - Old Grudges

A few of the marines meet in the lounge. Some things never change.

Date: 2237-08-05

Location: Crew Lounge, //Dauntless//

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 379

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No matter what other duties or missions might be going on in the ship, there's almost always a game of triad available for anyone interested. Most often they're playing for ship duties, though tonight it looks like there's some real cubits on the line. Gage is right in the midst of it all, cards held casually in his hands, though there's some tension visible in his shoulders as he waits for the rest of the table to stake or fold. The vid screen, for once, is switched off, a handful of people chatting quietly by the couches.

Abigail, bless her heart, doesn't know word one about triad. But she does know about watching people get into fistfights. And with the proper application of enough alcohol, even with the ship underway, there's bound to be some sort of shenanigan. And so, here she is, as her fellow engineer's designated driver, as luck would have it. Ready to pull him out should things get out of control. Or just beat the shit out of anyone who might want to mess with him. All that's missing, as she moves around to grab a free seat to watch the goings on, is a fist bump.

Things very quickly go Gage's way, judging by the slight shift of his posture -- leaning forward for a moment, when the last participant in the game chooses to call. The engineer throws down his cards, looking pleased, and even starts to lean to collect the pot, when the fellow to his right grunts, and shows his own cards. There's a reaction from around the table -- surprised murmurs and commiserations -- presumably for Gage, since he scowls, and pushes to his feet, shifting his weight for a moment as if deciding what to do. Abigail's presence, noted only just now, seems to decide him -- he pushes away from the table, gives her a fistbump, and mutters: "Drink?"

Sure, it's one thing not to know a thing about triad, it's another to avoid it altogether. While Beckham Dorn may not know much about the game, he carries himself in a way at the table that speaks of his confidence in his own abilities. Of course at the moment, he's taking a draw off a bottle of beer and telling a story. "...so we round the corner like hell on wheels into this Sag side street, and all of the sudden we hear the pock pock pock of bullets pinging on the armor of the truck. Radioman's on the horn screaming that we're under fire, when we hear one of the sentry posts suddenly report in that they're in contact and engaging an unknown vehicle." he starts to say as he grunts, sliding his chits over to the winner of the pot and gives a snort. However, with Gage rising, it seems the game's gonna be short a player. "Not going to stick around to try to win it back?" he asks, though as he glances towards the girl he fistbumps, there's a lift of his brows. Beckham certainetly can't begrudge Gage the retreat for Abigail.

He turns back to the others and his story as he starts to shuffle the deck. "Anyway, that's when we figured out - it was those dumb ass fraks at the sentry post thinking we were the enemy truck and were firing on us. Radioman's screaming, CO's roaring at the top of his lungs and we're all in this truck eating small arms and tracer fire and that's when the Sergeant looks over and goes 'This is what happens when your training's paid for by the lowest bidder.'."

A grin, as Gage does not leave her hanging, and she steps out of his way to let him rise, "I think I might have seen a couple of bottles in the cooler." A chuck of a thumb back towards the line of them, some of them designated with names of units, others seeming to be a free for all. "Pop? Or are you going to live dangerously and grab a beer?" She looks past the man to the rest of the group at the table, "Game's done? I haven't seen a single punch yet. You're letting me down, Tomak."

"Been playing long enough to know when my luck is down," Gage grunts by way of response to Beckham, earning a pleased grin from the winner. "You can win it off him," with a jerk of thumb to said winner. He gives Abigail a look, as if to suggest she's crazy to think otherwise: "Beer, definitely beer." Gage's mood has been more antisocial than usual since they announcement they were heading to Caprica, and it doesn't seem to have gotten better in the interim. "Not tonight," of Abigail's suggestion of a fisticuffs. "Gunny suggested if I got into another, he'd leave me languishing on the tin can for a few more weeks before I got to head planetside." Which is punishment enough, for Gage.

"Looks like it is, since we're short a player." Beckham shrugs, collecting his few winnings from earlier. "Not polite to go swinging at the folks that help put you back together, anyway." With his sleeves up, it's easy to make out the tattoo on his left forearm with his name, planet of birth (Caprica), serial number and blood type on it. "If you're feeling adventurous, the green cooler over there has some homebrew I brought back from Aerilon." he offers. "Tastes sweet but will sneak up and kick you in the ass - something they put in the honey brew or something. Wife swore by it before she had to stop drinking." There's a smirk offered at that before he rises and offers his hand to Abigail. "Beckham Dorn, medical."

"When have we ever let that stop us, Tomak? You just have to wait for the right moment and then blow that shit." A laugh, as she catches sight of the game starting to break up. "Yeah, I've seen hearing a lot of that. I'm fairly certain half of the squad is going to end up brigged before we even go boots down for the first time. So you'll have plenty of company while you're rattling the bars." A nod, "Beer it is." And she's about to turn back to go rooting, when Beckham speaks, and she looks back, eyes falling to his arm, lips turning down into a frown for a moment. She's seen enough to recognize it for what it is. "Actually, I think you should swing at whomever needs to be swung at. Thanks for the offer though." She steps forward, taking the hand and shaking, "Abigail Walker, engineer." She chucks a free thumb at Gage, "Tomak, also engineer. Heard about you...welcome back to the Wolves."

"Weren't about to take a swing at you," Gage tells Beckham, although the bland look the medic receives might mistakenly suggest otherwise. "Hazards of coming off shore leave, I guess. It could be worse. Could be the Vanguard again. At least here I can actually run the halls without knocking people over." He snorts with amusement at Abigail's joke, folding arms briefly across his chest. "We've met," he says with a nod for Beckham.

"Briefly, as it were." Beckham accepts Abigail's hand, giving it a firm shake. "Shit, scuttlebutt about me? Probably all true." he shrugs at that before he moves from the table, and snerks. "You would have liked Galactica then, Tomak. Plenty of room to roam." Heading over to the coolers, he reaches in, pulling out a couple of non-descript bottles with glass and cork lids with metal holding them down and offers them to the two. "Didn't have that many engineers on my first tour, glad to see we're getting more proactive with them."

"I miss something as small as the cutter. I actually prefer to be crawling over people in the way to the mess. It feels more...lived in, I suppose. Ships this big...too easy to end up rattling around." Said no one ever. Except apparently...Abigail Walker. "Just a note, I heard at the briefing this morning, when they were going over whom might be assigned for our missions." She accepts the bottle, though she'll allow Gage to grab his first, "Thanks, Dorn." A smirk, "I think they've finally gotten the idea that you need more demolitions to win a war. Which means Tomak and I have never been busier."

There's another snort from Gage. "Don't imagine I'll ever like any tin can." Apparently the 'fond' description applies to all ships, big or small. When Beckham offers the beer, there's a moment's hesitation, almost quick enough to miss, before he takes it with a nod of thanks. Abigail's preferences for close-quarters earns her a side-eye from Gage. "You're crazy, Walker," he says, blandly, before he rubs a hand over his short-shaven hair. "I do like doing things I'm good at," he adds, by way of agreement. "Haven't a chance to set foot on Caprica, yet." He doesn't sound all that eager either, by his tone.

"Well, considering how bad it is on Caprica.." Beckham gets a momentary frown for a moment. "...with plenty of explosions is going to be plenty of folks for me to patch back together again." he admits with a small snort.

"You not looking forward to heading to the colony, Tomak?" It's not like Abigail couldn't pick that out easily enough from the tone of his voice, "I'm just glad to be doing work. Doesn't matter where it is. Plenty of people on all of the colonies that need help, including this one. Especially this one." A grin, towards Gage, "I am not crazy. I prefer to think of myself as perfectly well adjusted." A glance back to Beckham, "You know things are bad when half the time lately, I'm the one filling in as medic on our missions."

"It's bad everywhere," comes Gage's observation, level. Finally, he pops the beer he's been giving, but doesn't take an immediate sip, instead adding, "We don't explode anyone we don't mean to, and no toaster needs putting together again." Abigail's inquiry has him pressing lips together, looking like he won't answer. But then: "Seems like Caprica's awful good at meddling in other colonies. Seems they can't fix their own shit as well."

"Funnily enough, as much as Capirca can't keep their nose out of everyone else's shit, other colonies can't help but to want a piece of the pie when it's offered." Beckham responds cooly to Gage, as he takes a draw off of his bottle. "My family and Tam's were both in pharmaceuticals, never heard anyone complain when Dorn BioPharma rolled out a new vaccine or something to keep your dick harder longer." he points out blandly as he sets the bottle aside for the moment. "Yeah the canners were a colossial frak up, but when it comes down to it, noone forced the other colonies to take them at gunpoint."

Seems to me, that no matter what you think about a colony generally, the vast majority of the people down there didn't ask for this war any more than you or I did. We're just in a position to be able to help them. Most of them are just people, who were trying to live their lives the best they could until the world crashed down around them. As for me, I'll help anyone who needs to be helped. That's why I signed up." Abigail does not, however, open the beer, instead keeping it comfortably in hand, "That's because nobody complains about a dick that lasts longer."

"Tauron's never asked for help, certainly not from Caprica." There's a tone to Gage's voice, an edge that's making the observation personal, tension visible in the Tauron's posture. With a sidelong glance, he sets the open, but untouched beer on the table, folding his arms.

"Didn't stop Tauron from taking a piece of Sagittaron when it was offered to them." Beckham responds with a lift of his brow. "But Walker's right, shit's focused on the Cylons now. I haven't set foot on Capirca in a long time - I was in the ICJPK when the uprising started - and my home's on Aerilon now." Where his own small family is. There's a shrug of the medic's shoulders. "You want to take it personal, then you're going to take it personal. But we're all in the same mix now."

Abigail looks at Gage with a mild sort of confusion, "What are you talking about, Tomak? From what I read about this unit's history, the very first operation the Galactica went to, once it was completed and its crew was aboard, was to support war efforts on Tauron. If that's not asking for help, I'm not sure what you think 'asking for help' entails." But she offers a nod to Beckham, "It's a little late to be holding personal grudges."

"Offered?" Gage gives a snort. "Because Caprica's the one that gets to decide who owns which colony now?" His arms unfold from across his chest, as he glances at Abigail, gaze narrowing. "Just because the CF elects to go somewhere, it doesn't mean it's because they've asked for help." He releases a sharp breath, reaching out to flick a nail against the untouched bottle. "Think I'm going to go for a run," he says, in lieu of an agreement with the talk of holding personal grudges, turning and heading out the door without a farewell -- though that's pretty normal for Gage, too.

Beckham starts to say something, but he just shakes his head. "Your opinion is your own, man." he says as he watches him storm off with a bit of a frown. "An engineer with a short fuse. That ain't dangerous." he comments quietly, probably assuming that Abigail will be following after her fellow engineer and he finishes off his own drink.

"The CF doesn't go where it's not invited, Tomak. If they were on Tauron, it was because Tauron asked them to come and help. You know the CF doesn't just override the wishes of the colonies. Hell, they can't even conscript people into service, they have to wait for volunteers, or for the colonies themselves to send people." She shrugs, as Gage suddenly decides to make a departure, "Yeah, catch you after a while. I've got some supplies I'm prepping for the op tomorrow I'd like to parcel out." As Gage heads out, Abigail glances back to Beckham, still in her same position, which means close enough to heard what he said, "You don't know him, Dorn. So let me clue you in. Whatever shit he's dealing with up here? Down there, he's solid."

"You're right, Walker, I don't know him. But I know what happens when someone like him decides to check out in the middle of a firefight. He keeps his shit under control down there, we're golden. If he fraks up, and I have to patch up what his anger brings about, I won't hesitate to pull the trigger on the report." Beckham responds flatly. "He's your chain of command, you say he's good, he's good." he comments as he starts to walk off, leaving Abigail with the drink, after grabbing another bottle. "Gonna go check on Cate, see you around."

"And I know that you don't know what someone is capable of, until you actually see them on the ground. So I don't make it a point to prejudge anyone." Abigail seems not at all out of sorts, "And if he fraks up on the ground, I would one hundred percent expect you to remark on it. I don't give or expect special treatment from my people, just because they happen to work with me." She nod, as Beckham too, seems intent on depart, "See you around, Dorn." And then, with no one left to drink the two beers, she'll pull a trash panda and sneak off with them herself. She knows where to put them to good use.


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