PHD 226: Marine Country
Marine Country
Summary: Sito comes down to wrangle coffee from the Marines, only to find Hestia's S2 in waiting.
Date: PHD 226 (Nov 30th 2009)
Related Logs: None

Marine County smells like strong coffee and gun oil no matter the hour of the day. The office serves as an all-purpose command post for the Hestia detachment of the Colonial Marine Core, constantly manned to protect the ship against foreign and domestic threats. Drab desks jut out into the room, their surfaces taken up by computers, files and a disarray of random office supplies. A large whiteboard dominates the majority of the bulkhead nearest the hatch, it's surface covered with a myriad of hasty scribbles denoting the day's duty shifts and other points of interest. At the far end of the room is an arm's locker, requiring a passcode to be able to access it.

Early afternoon seems to have the Hestia in rather good spirits. After all the took out a frakking Basestar and came across more survivors. Per usual, Jack's off to make his own rounds amongst the men- and visit the chapel, so that leaves the S2 alone to ruminate over last night's action. There's three faces he knows he will not see on rotation and as such on the whiteboard along the bulkhead, three names have been crossed off.

Currently though Nate's eyes aren't on that instead, he's writing up an AAR to send up the line-and plan the following week's duty shifts. Pen scribbling furiously, as a cup of coffee lets lose some steam, and a cigarette hangs limply in his lips. So far, all is quiet on the Hestian front.

The hatch opens and the CAG steps in. She doesn't stop to check the desk sarge, or bother with the formalities of saying hello before she goes to pillage the coffee maker. She brought her own mug, at least. A small courtesy, if a tactical invasion can be called a courtesy.

Long drag taken, before smoke is leaving his nostrils in a easy manner-that is till movement catches his eye. A snort there, and the pen is clicked down, as cigarette is taken and ashed. Time to be classy-ish. A look over to where the CAG stands by the pot and eyes going to his own coffee. A slurp, before finally the S2 speaks up..


No grin there, as the heavy accented voice drops out. Can take a boy from th' mountains, but can't take the mountains from the boy. "That ain't fresh.." a nod to the coffee pot-though that is likely not to detour the CAG.

"Neither are you, Lieutenant," Sito replies, accent just shy of a match with Tombs'. She lifts the pot and pours herself a cup. "That hasn't yet stopped me associating with the S2. Despite your more lawful leanin's." A shot taken at a cop now and then isn't anything to be ashamed of.

"Never was paid to be, sir. Fact, I find my own appearances- an my godsdamned spunk makes up for what ain't fresh about me." A look back and there's a faint scwol, before he's moving to stand up from his desk, one hand reaching for his mug-the other moving to rest on his belt. There we go, the perfected deputy dawg look, for just a second. "I thought you liked my lawful leanin's.." Tombs says as he keeps his eyes on the coffee stealin' CAG. "Sides, I keep shit from getting too deep on here. Damned good job I do of it too." Because we're all mostly, still alive.

"You all lose anyone?"

"Your job performance ain't under scrutiny here, Lieutenant. I been too busy herdin' mine to keep that close an eye." There's a little dryness in the tone, though it's not as easy to pick up on given the accent. Her eyes sweep over him briefly, as he assumes that posture, hand on belt. She shakes her head just slightly, and turns from the coffee to take a sip. She remains just beside the pot, though. "Damn near lost two, but they took their RTB to heart, and live another day. Their planes are a little worse for wear." She pauses, eyes on the coffee. She doesn't pull a face or comment on the boiled down dregs. Her eyes find the white board, and she says, "You lost three."
"What is? My bathin habits?" No he's not touching that further. Eyes move down towards the Desk Sergeant, before he's looking right on back to Sito. A rub of the back of his hand, under his nose, as now he's turning to focus further in on his work at the desk. "Yup. And it's a big frakkin shame. They were in there thicker than We coulda thought- Nor did Ja-The Cap'n give me enough time to get the damned men off- or send down reinforcements." A bit of a bite there, even if his voice is lowered to not go on beyond this point here. "It's a big damned shame..I coulda had a Raptor filled. Now, we gotta get the Padre to do, frakking rites." a slurp of the coffe and Nate's looking back.

"Wish we got out bug out call earlier. Time we did, our neighbors had their chitlins on the ground, muckin it up."

"Same shit, different day," Sito replies, with a little raise of her coffee mug. She takes a sip, and licks her lips briefly after the swallow. That surely burns all the way down. She regards Tombs for a moment, then reaches up to run her fingers up and down the back of her neck. "I met their CAG. He has a stick up his ass, but rattled a couple chains while I was watchin'. Got a couple discipline problems. Ain't sure about the marines. All of them got while the gittin' was good."
"Well, we know they are at least smart." Nate muses for a moment, before he's offering something of a half grin. Hell there's been plenty of times he's hauled ass out of a place where brass was meeting-though now he doesn't have that frakkin' luxuary. "I could go over with the Captain later to take a peek, or something. Though Who knows how Krauss'll wanna handle that." A shrug. "Not my business.- As long as they don't run around with thumbs up their asses tryin t' blow each other to Hades an back, I'm sure they'll be fine."

Though there is a slight smirk when it comes to the other CAG. "Heard worse said bout you." A joke or the truth. "Still, Th' Admiral will get it all sussed out, I spect." a sip "Any good prospects, at least?"

"I'm sure, el-tee, you've said worse about me yourself." Sito arches a brow slightly, pale green eyes on the man. "Have yo heard anything about plans for the carrier?" She glances over to the board again. She doesn't comment further on the dead marines.

"I've said a few things. But ain't none of em untrue." Tombs quips back as he lowers his mug for a moment, and raises a brow. Perhaps it is the look from the CAG. "Not yet. Cap'n hasn't told me jack, or shit. Nor do I think Kato or Sabah are going to call for me over the damned intercom unless someone's up and farted in the Wardroom." He's been a marine too long. "Figure though if she can't move along we'll take what we want, scrap the ship and blow her. But, that's what I would do."

"Your devotion to explosives is admirable, Lieutenant." Sito glances over again, "But I think it's a little premature to blow the entire vessel simply because it's an outdated piece of junk that's too much pumpkin for a nickel."

"I said scrap what we can from it, fore we scuttle the bird." Tombs corrects, before there's that bit of movement. Closer to the CAG and well the coffee pot as it seems he's going for a refill right there. "Heard you all slung enough metal out there, that it had to be like a cow pissin on a flat rock for those frakkin' toasters." A sniff. And there's a look back towards Sito. "If you wanna know though-I don't feel right bout this- This last mission. Sure it was a success, but that's twice my gods damned information ain't been listened too." A grunt. "Could take it up the mast- but dunno. Maybe Krauss is playin cautious for a frakkin reason." So yes the three names on the boards still bother him.


"What you think we should do with it?" the Kharon that is.

"I think we should take a little more time to get to know 'em first. They barely got a pot to piss in, but that don't mean we want 'em this side. A little distance might be good till we suss out each other." Sito refers, of course, to the two crews. "We leave it sit, see how the tea turns out. Sides that, ain't like they're going nowhere. Another colonial vessel's like a booger you can't thump off. Just gonna have to suss fast."

"You gonna do that with your winnin' personality?" sick burn there, Tombs. Still there's a slight nudge over as if to move Sito from the trajectory of the coffee pot, which is now being used to refresh his own drink. A sip and eyes are back. "Could always do a fight night-Course that could just be my own bein' filled with piss an vinegar. An wanting to hit somethin.."

Nini glances up at the vent. "It's hotter'n nickel night at the whorehouse in here. You break the environmental controls." There's a good chance it's her body rejecting the marine coffee. She shoots a look over at the S2. "Watch your hands, bootie." Finally, an insult slips out. "I don't know where they've been."

"It's always that hot in here, why do you think we always look like we're sweating and shit? You think I do that just to make you ladies twitter pate at my frakkin arms an shit? I take three showers, if you count my one in the gym." Tombs says after a sip of his drink, and then a glance to herself. "Don't flatter yourself Airy-Fairy." A smirk given as eyes slip to the desk sergeant. "We all going to go back over tonight? If you are, I wanna come along."

"You be sure to wash up and shave and I might let you tag along," Nini replies, her tone almost achieving neutrality. "Might wanna think about a fourth shower, Lieutenant." Her eyes slide down his uniform, then she turns for the hatch. "Your coffee tastes like bog water."

"You wouldn't know a bog unless it snuck up and bit you in your ass, Captain." A vaguely amused smile, before he's moving back over to deal with his own workload. "I'll shave. Hell, I'll even wear blues so I can fit in. Unless you want me with my gun?" a shake of his head and down he sits, reaching for that dead cigarette. "Have a good day Captain Sito." almost too cheerfully given out. though under his breath one does mutter something about the hatch, slapping one's ass on the way out.

"If you need your gun, Lieutenant," she drags that out and easily adds a few syllables, "We're in it pretty deep. Hope you ain't wearing your fancy shoes." Sito says that like she doubts he owns fancy shoes. "I'll have you paged if decide to go callin'." She doesn't give any official goodbye, or return the wish for a good day, she just walks out.

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