| Paying the Piper |
| Summary: | Tombs and Dell discuss a recent tussle in the gym. |
| Date: | PHD 262 |
| Related Logs: | Dell Fight |
| Players: |
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Now sitting at the Commanding Officer's desk, the move from S2, to CO was seamless given the weird circumstances, however the S2 desk is as cluttered as his own. Files laid out as well as various other pieces of paper. Needless to say the HUB, and the Offices will be busy for the next coming days, and it is likely not about to get any easier. Right now, Tombs sits as a cigarette smolders in his usual make-shift ashtray, while eyes are pouring over something else. Photos-though what they are, have yet to be seen, he's keeping his cards as they were, close to the chest.
Private Dell Triptolemus makes his way in as he moves to the principles office to see just what sort of trouble he is in this time and as he swaggers in he stops at the CO's desk and he looks at he throws a salute, "You wanted to see me, sir?" He says in fair seriousness, he might be in trouble and he might be paying the price for something though when it comes time to pay the piper the kid always takess his lumps quietly.
Tombs looks up for a moment, and the photo is lowered face down. "At ease, Private." Tombs says quietly, before he is looking back towards something on his desk, Ah there it is. Eyes give a quick scan, before he is looking back towards Dell. "Can you tell me, what happened today in the gym with Private Rian?" And it is right into it, it goes. no lead ins, nothing. A titl of his head and the Lieutenant watches a little further. "Well?"
Dell looks over at Tombs and said, "Oh that, well, we were working out, sir, and things just got a little out of hand I suppose." He lifts up his shirt to show a nice bruise to his chest, good and purple. "So we roughhoused a little more than we should have." He doesn't add much more than this as he watches Tombs and the one thing that Dell is incapable of is lying, even in his psych evail all signs point to him being honest even when it hurts him.
"You roughhoused a little more than you should have? Try again marine-because the report I have here, states clearly that you attacked her without provocation, and that she had to fend you off. Mind telling me what in the frak that was about, or would you colour it, rough housing?" A faint pause and Tombs sets the piece of paper down, hands coming to lace together on his desk.
Dell doesn't budge as he stands there, "In my opinion, sir, it was rough housing." He says, "And I did back off, sir. I did nothing that we didn't do back on the farm sometimes." However his eyes drift onto Tombs, "Still though a report was made so it would appear that the private did not think this was rough housing." He sniffs the air, for once not because he is surly, but because he is sorry for the misunderstanding.
"Private, there is a clear difference from someone having to fend you off, and someone backing off. And a Dropkick does not count as frakking rough housing. What in the hell were you trying to do? Because you were not clearly sparring." Questions, but then Tombs perhaps wants a fuller picture before he either dismisses or explodes. Needless to say, he's listening.
"I dunno, sir, I was just messing around and then she started making fun of my religious beliefs and well, one thing lead to another…there were only two blows thrown." He says as he reiterates, "I meant it as rough housing though…I told her I talk to the lords…you know, through prayer, and she made fun of that…" He shakes his head, "So I knocked her on her ass and then she beat my ass down. Fair trade, sir."
"So you decided to knock her ass out, because of your belief in the lords? You ever that people don't have shit made fun of em every day, and you're special enough to see to it?" A beat and with that Tombs shifts in his seat. "Private, as I told you when you came in here, you would have to tone your shit down, and then you've gone and knocked someone down, over something as petty religious views. This isn't the only complaint I have heard." a shake of his head, before he's reaching for a pen "As of right now, Private Triptolemus, you are no longer allowed the use of a weapon, pending several psyche reviews, and anger management sessions. Also, I am not sticking you on duty rotation. From now on, you will be doing janitorial duties around marine country and serving KP out in the kitchen, until you are cleared by both Psyche, and myself. I will not have a danger to the Corps, or any of my squads." A look back up. "That clear."
Dell lets his eyes fall on Tombs and he sniffs, "Yes, sir." He grunts and he doesn't bow up but he does add, "Though you know what, sir, if this happened to me I wouldn't have squealed about it. Any marine who snitches isn't a real frakking marine. So, sure, I'll go through your motions but think about what will happen when Private Rian really gets in trouble when the bullets start flying, hell, she might turn traitor like that crazy frakking bitch on the Kharon just to save her own ass, sir."
"Private You're frakking assed lucky I don't boot your ass right on towards Support right now so fast your head frakking spins." The Lieutenant barks back towards Dell as he stands up from his desk. "And you do not godsdamned tell me anything about who my marines are or who you think they are, you dumb pissant. I know as of right now, I can frakkin trust her, because she won't go crazy over something ridiculously petty as religion. And you know you. Your Lords can go and suck a bag of dicks-" all yelled out before Tombs is stepping around from the desk. "You hear that, you dumb frak. Your gods can go an suck my cock. Hell that's the only reason someone should be on their knees anyway. That what they teach you to do in Chapel?" And eyes are on Dell, probably waiting to see how the marine will react, given this all started over something similar. "Do you like those words, Private?"
Dell's eyes flicker white hot with rage and his left hand tightens into a first as Tombs moves into his speech but then just as quickly half way through it all goes away as an LED light goes off over his head and he just stands there this time sniffing the air and he stops to scratch right under his nose as he looks thoroughly unimpressed. However, he does stand at relative attention as the wind passes by him and when he is done Dell says, "I think your words aren't genuine, sir, but they are blasphemous - though that is between your soul and the Lords, not mine." The surly marine isn't going for the bait it seems.
It is the tick in the hand, that is all Tombs needs. "Of course they are godsdamned blasphemous your frakking idiot. You think I would say them if they weren't. Hades blue frakkin balls, your parents musta bred you all sorts of stupid. Thank th' gods they are dead, so they can't see what a disappointment their kid has become." Apparently, Tombs is not letting off either. For a man who is used to watching people his whole life, this is just another study and another test. And most likely Dell's just scoring along.
Dell stands there and when his parents are mentioned the former farmer raises…his eyebrow and he clasps his hands behind his back and he doesn't say a word since he wasn't given permission to speak and he was not asked a question. Though his eyes continue to follow Tombs as he speaks and the slightest movement that Tombs makes leads Dell to follow through and watch. The marine is young and angry but he doesn't seem to be reacting to much to this either he knows it is a test or he is doing his best not to care.
"I can tell why folks don't want you in their squad." A sniff, and with that Nate's watching Dell a bit more, a brief pause before he's shaking his head. "But you can't. Kid, You might be trying to nut up now, but when you go-you're going to be a barrel of frakking rage-Trust me, I saw your damned hand, and I can tell when someone is trying to play a cool customer." A look dead on at the man. "I don't need someone young idiot charging into combat because he's got a chip on his shoulder. Before you start with what you did when you interviewed with me. Remember. I know you lost your parents. Guess what, so did I and so did a lot of people on this ship and on your former one." A sniff. "You're not special shit. You're like everyone else, and until you get that through your head, you're just a danger to your squad and to my marines." And with that he's leaning back against his desk. "That is why You're being punished-to save your damned life. As it stands. you WILL seek help through the medical department's psychologists. You will get over yourself, and maybe, maybe when we're sure you're not going to either do something inherently stupid, like break cover and leave your squad behind, for either glory or revenge, then we'll put you back on the line. When you can get all this unworked grief or whatever the frak it is that has you boiling over, worked out then we'll see about you getting back in. As such, you will report to Master Sergeant Nikos now, with the training detachment and do as he asks. You will not be permitted near the small arms ranger, or any weapon until you are deemed safe by myself. My staff, and by Medical." And there is a beat. "Do you even want to be a Marine, Tripotlemus?"
Dell is finally given permission to speak and so he starts in with this dandy of a response, "Am I angry? Yeah, I am. I don't try to hide it and everyone around me knows it. Though, why everyone was up here in all of the black some of us were left behind on scortched soil and we survived without any real help at all. So, when I came up here when I became a marine I gave up everything, I tried to get my dog into a K-9 unit and when that didn't happen I left the last part of myself behind. Now, you are taking the other part of me away because I'm damned good at shooting things. So you are leaving with me with nothing. I want to be a marine so I can save what is left of humanity and because I want to see every single one of those toaster sons of bitches dead. So, you think I'm a threat, fine, but you aren't saving my life, taking me away frorm the range is taking all I have left. So, I will go to your touchy feely crap psychologists, and for the record, I hate touchy feel crap, and I'll peel potatos, I'll clean the head, and in every one of those moments a part of what is left of my soul, of who I am is going to die. Though even a man with a dead soul can kill cylons." He rubs his jaw for a moment since this is the longest he has spoken in a long while.
"I asked if you wanted to be a marine." Tombs notes again. "I might kill some of you, but I'll make you something new, and something better. You might be bitchy and shit because of it, but godsdamnit we will make a frakking marine out of you. It takes more than shooting, or shit to become a marine- it takes dedication and commitment. And so far, you only have shown that commitment to the range. That does not make a marine." Tombs pauses for a moment before he's moving back to his desk to sit down. "If you want to shoot, and protect humanity, then I suggest you don't just go through the motions in on this one. You take this shit seriously, or you won't fire a gun even if judgement day comes and goes." and with that he's looking down. "You have your task private, and your orders. Come back in three weeks, and we'll reassess then." and with that Tombs is done with the man. "Dismissed."
Dell doesn't comment but he does throw up a salute and after that he walks out, if he had a reason to be angry before then this is more fuel to the fire, in summation, no dog, no gun, and cleaning things though he mutters to himself regarding his situation as he walks out the door, "Son of a bitch." And with that he is gone.
