Summary: Pepper goes to Fulton for some catching up.
Date: 78 ACH
Related Logs: None

Spotlights Carina - Pyr Hotel
78 ACH 23817 Souls

In the sea of sports, there is a small island of non sports related propaganda. That is Spotlights. Hearkening back to bygone days of flatscreen projected images as entertainment, Spotlights is a dim place, the intimate tables never holding more than four people. The low lighting is broken from time to time by its namesake, occasionally a cone of light sweeping slowly through the area, though the effect on the air, laden with a harmless mist generator is more of the beam of the light visible than shining harshly on anyone. The air is quiet, with the occasional lone piano music heard drifting through the air. The bar is polished glass and chrome, catching and reflecting the light when the two meet, otherwise the subdued offset lights give the place a sensual glow. One wall holds a low curtained stage, which at times draws back, and the spotlights fade, and a classic film plays at scheduled times. The bar serves drinks and food, though the emphasis is on the drinks, and the food is limited. All the glassware is sparkling clean and of crystal. Martini glasses, whiskey tumblers, daiquiri glasses and Brandy Snifters, Spotlights has it all.
----< Condition Three - Duty Area >----—-
Contents: Fulton Pepper Wireless 834

Exits: [O] Out

Fulton is at a table in the corner, sitting back with a drink in front of him, one elbow on the arm of the chair, fingers pressed to the center of his forehead, apparently pondering something quietly.

Pep slips into the bar, pausing in the doorway, fingers brushing over her skirt for a moment as she looks around. Ahhh, target acquired. With laser-like focus, she heads in the direction of James Fulton. "Uncle James," she calls softly.

Fulton looks up, and smiles, "Pep." He says and rises, gesturing her to a chair, "Please." He says warmly, as he calls a waitress over, "What brings you down here?" He asks, sitting when she does.

"Looking for you, actually," she says, stepping close to, if permitted, kiss his cheek and give him a brief hug. "I was hoping to find you. Been searching a couple days. How are you?"

Fulton tsks, "I'm fine, I should have sent a message with how to contact me. I've been bouncing around the Civilian ships, talking to people." He says, getting into his pockets, and pulling out a notepad and pen, flipping to the back and scribbling out a wireless connection, then tearing off the paper and passing it to her, "Here, you can get a message to me through there." He says as the waitress comes over. "What would you like?"

Pepper takes the paper and tucks it away, laughing quietly. "A glass of wi…" she begins, then cocks her head to the side. "Actually, tea instead of wine. I'm craving something warm." She slides into a seat, looking up to study the man. She's obviously lost weight, and the dark shadows under her eyes are fading away, almost gone now. "Are you getting enough rest?" More and more like her mother every day.

Fulton settles down, nodding to the waitress as she leaves, then nods, "Comparatively? Yes, I've been getting rest like I thought I never would again." He looks better, more like himself, somewhat, though he does seem to have gained a few years. "You look like you're doing the same, though you're looking a bit thinner. What's going on with you?"

Pepper folds her hands in her lap and looks up at him, smiling a touch wryly. "Abridged version or the full story? If it's the full story, I'm ordering food."

Fultons mouth stretches into a smile, "Start with the high points, Pep, then we'll get into the pieces that are the most interesting."

"Well," she says, leaning back. "Let's see. A nasty rumor got started aboard Genesis because of a…mistake I made." She clearly doesn't see it as a mistake, but is being diplomatic. "For that rumor, I got transferred. For telling the Commander to remove his head from his ass while he made himself look stupid in front of his CMO, I got 3 days AIQ. It turned out that the other party in the rumor, well…was interested in me and I never quite picked up on it." She slides her hand across the table to reveal the ring she's always worn around her neck - on an Important Finger. "We're getting married, but I wanted your blessing as well as the Commander's."

Fulton listens intently, then sighs, "Ah, Commander Regas. You know, I'm more and more regretful he never accompanied your father on any of the Heras excursions. We were this close to establishing a rapport from before all this, which might have made gleaning an understanding of the man easier." He looks to her ring finger, and smiles widely, "Well, I cannot give any blessing for you marrying another party in a rumor, Pep. I need little things like, oh, a name would be nice, a gender of this person would be pretty much required."

Her cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink and she laughs softly, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, Uncle James. It's…well, new. Major Salin Altair, JAG officer and most -decidedly- male. There's a certain fondness in her eyes, even though she's trying to be an "adult."

Fulton blinks, "Maj-" He looks surprised, "Major Altair? Really?" He leans back in his chair, thinking, "We've spoken before at length about the fleet." He considers, "He seems a strong enough personality, though I don't know him very well." He watches her as he says, "Tell me about him."

Pepper settles back in her seat, comfortably. "He comes from a family much like mine on Caprica," she begins, relaxing. "In fact, almost identical to mine. Given that he's slightly older, we didn't run in the same circles. There's fifteen years between us." Well, at least she's honest. "He's, as you've gathered, a rather straightforward and forthright man, though he tempers that with fairness." Fingers brush over the ring for a moment. "He's also a protector. He's not looking to replace you or the Commander in my life, and he was…" There's a hesitation. "He was patient. Very patient. I was in love with someone else."

Fulton nods, listening intently as Pepper speaks, "Mmm." He says as he ponders, "How'd that prior love work out with him?" He inquires, drawing out the conversation.

"He knew and he understood," she says quietly. "He had a similar situation. Though…he was quite surprised when I said goodbye to the man I was in love with, when I stepped away to clear the path for the future."

Fulton nods, "And this other love, you feel that's settled? I mean it's not like there's a lot of room around these days, we're living in limited space."

She takes time to consider that before nodding, once. "I will…always love him," she says slowly. "Always. You never forget your first love. And I think that he'll always have a soft spot for me. But our love affair could never go any further than one dance." Literal or figurative?

Fulton inclines his head, "Sometimes that's all you get. And you two can see yourselves in the future together? Year from now, five or ten, even?"

She hesitates for a moment, quirking a brow at him. "The Colonel and I," she asks softly. "Or the Major and I? The Colonel - no. I've said my goodbyes, and I mean them. The Major? Definitely."

Fulton nods, firmly, "You sound quite sure about that. Good." He thinks about it for a moment, "So how long have you been with the Major?"

And that's when she hits the brick wall, mentally. Glancing down at the ring for a moment, she looks back to Fulton. "It depends on who you ask," she says quietly. He first fell for me on Colonial Day, when he took me to buy my red dress. I thought the Old Man had him on babysitting duty, so was a little…well." A shoulder lifts delicately. "Our first kiss was only a few weeks ago, but it's something…it's something I know, Uncle James. Here." She touches her chest. "He was with me through the Old Man throwing me away. I got my transfer orders in a letter. Nothing else." There's more there, but she doesn't follow that line of thought. "It's simply us. We're trying to be respectful of Major Carter, the Old Man and our fellow officers.

Fulton frowns slightly, "Car- The man who destroyed this station I heard about?" He shrugs, "What's he have to do with this?"

"He's my new CO, Uncle James," she says gently. "Old Man fired me. Transferred me to Hera, under Major Carter's command."

Fulton lifts his head, "Ahh, alright, that leads around to the question about your transfer and where you are now." He pauses, "So he got the Hera." He ponders on this for a moment, then tilts his head, "Okay, so, on topic. Have you slept with the Major?" He stops, "Altair, I mean, not Carter."

Caught. She blinks at him for a long moment, clearly not expecting that question. "I…" But then she nods, once. "I have," she says quietly. "The Major's been my first, and only."

Fulton takes that absolutely in stride. "That's sweet, really." He comments with a smile, and seems to settle into consideration.

Pepper gives him a small little smile. "And there's a chance I'm pregnant," she says softly. "He…wasn't aware that I wasn't experienced. Most everyone in my life…" A shoulder lifts slightly. "I seemed to be wild when I was younger. And if I am? I think we'll do alright. It's something we've discussed and we both want. Maybe not so soon, but if it happens, I don't know that I'd be happier."

Fulton winces, "Oh, honey, no. March your butt into your sickbay and get tested. Soon as you leave here." He nods, sympathetically, "Nono, none of this 'There's a chance' or 'maybe' shit. Find out. Get a result, and don't dawdle with it, alright?"

She gives him a wry little smile at that. "I can't for another six days," she says, watching him. "Already talked to Medical about it. Honestly, I'm terrified, but not in a bad way, if that makes sense."

Fulton sighs, shifting in his chair, for the first time in all of this, he looks discomforted. "You really need to know, Pep, and importantly, everyone else needs to know. From him, to Regas, to Carter, but mostly you. Does Altair know about this.. chance?"

Pep dips her head, once. "We discussed it as soon as he thought to bring it up. I'd…well, I didn't think, honestly. IF I'm pregnant, then yes, those people will be told pretty much immediately. Once twelve weeks have passed. But medically, there's no way the test will be accurate for another six days."

Fulton nods, "Well, then you're in for.." He considers, "A long week." He shakes his head, apparently it's the ongoing uncertainty that has him bothered more than the actual sexual activity or possibility.

She tilts her head slightly to the side. "Seventeen days is what I was told when I first spoke to Medical," she tells him with a little smile. "It's no worse than that. The thought of raising a child doesn't bother me. It scares me, certainly. But I HAVE wanted children for a very long time."

Snatch comes in from Hotel Entrance.
Snatch has arrived.

Fulton nods, "That's.." He shakes his head, "Not the point, Pep. This is a major thing, and not knowing for certain is a harrowing stress. Literally, this could affect the rest of your life. Your life to be hangs on this one thing." He explains at a back table with Pepper, speaking earnestly. "It's not a question of if you're ready, it's a question of driving people insane with the uncertainty of it. Because if you're not, I don't recommend trying just yet."

Pepper's quiet for a time as she considers Fulton. "Uncle James," she says softly. "This isn't about anyone else. It's about Salin, the baby and I. Major Carter needs to know because it will affect my career. You and the old man need to know because you're -family-. But this, right here and now, is between Salin and I. If I am, I am. If I'm not, I'm not, and I won't be until I'm sure we're both ready. He -is- ready. He's got a stable career, a GOOD career, and the maturity to be an excellent father. The uncertainty isn't a stress for either of us."

Snatch fits in about as well here as your average backwater enginesnipe. Drenched in sweat that glistens on her muscled arms and shoulders, she trails sawdust and mud in onto the floor when she comes. She takes off the old green kerchief that covers her short hair and wipes her face and throat with it briefly as she stands there, eyeing the place for a sign of waitstaff before spotting the bar and just heading around to go behind it.

Fulton leans to the side, pinching the bridge of his nose, smiling, "Kids." He says, perhaps to the gods. He then looks at Pepper, "Honey, look, one result or the other is fine. If you're pregnant, great, if you're not, great. Not knowing.." He pauses, thinking, "I'm sitting here, -feeling- my stress rise with the uncertainty, and I'm neither the father, nor am I a military commander, nor in the position of having lives hanging on my decisions." He pauses, "Not anymore, thank the gods. Now, I'm going to threaten you with the obligatory, 'As soon as you know, you tell me.' thing that you had to know was coming, but right now I want you to understand that it's going to be an added factor when you bring this up to other people, okay?"

Pepper seems fairly intent on her conversation with Fulton, brow pulled together just slightly. "You're the only other one I'd planned to tell, Uncle James," she says, voice low and quiet. "This…isn't something I'm going to be spreading around the ship. If I am, Major Carter and the Commander will find out as soon as I clear the first trimester. I only brought it up with you because you asked a pointed question."

Snatch just gives the fellow behind the bar a non-committal glare as she steps behind with him, letting the access door swing shut behind her as she leans down to turn on the tap on the sink back there and dipping down to drink straight from the tap, thirstily chugging the cold water.

Fulton nods, "Yes, I asked a pointed question, for a very simple reason. I'm taking this seriously. The people you work with, your superiors deserve to know as soon as possible, Regas deserves to know as soon as possible, I can say that, for certain. I'd say as soon as you know definitely, if you are pregnant. He's known you as long as I have. Altair, that goes without saying, of course he needs to know, Carter.." He waves a hand, "Military protocol, whatever that is. I think you're right about not telling anyone else till at least you know for certain. Otherwise you're going to get bogged down with all kinds of crap."

Pepper gives Fulton a warm smile and dips her head. "Oh, trust me, Uncle James. If I'm pregnant, it's going to be announced as soon as possible. Like I came to you as soon as I could about the engagement, I OWE certain people that respect. But right now, when it's so in question, it's stupid of me to add stress on everyone else. I inadvertantly did it to you."

Snatch drenches her kerchief in cold water before turning off the tap and heading back out from behind the bar, wringing out some cold water onto her head before wiping her face with it again, standing in the mist and just standing there holding the kerchief over her face.

Fulton shrugs, "Well, I'm your old uncle. I'm here to get this kind of thing told to and give my advise due to my advanced age." He smirks, "So that's part of my job now, but you came for my blessing, and I need to speak with him before I give it." He thinks, "I need to speak with him about a few things, and this is one of them. So now, you can do two things. Let him know I want to talk to him and tell me why that woman is standing there with a wet handkerchief on her face."

Pep glances over her shoulder, blinking. There was someone else here? That seems to take her by surprise. "I…don't know," she muses.

Snatch mops her throat and then leans her head forward to wince as she touches the cold water to the scabbed-over bullet gash in the back of her head. She holds the cold water on it for a while before pulling the kerchief over her head again. Her cheeks still flushed, she looks tired but reinvigorated by the cold water, face flushed with a long shift of welding and fixing followed by a long second shift of hauling logs, chopping wood, and fitting slats. It's like someone drew a picture of a long, weary day's physical labor, personified in the enginesnipe cooling her bare arms in the mist.

Fulton shrugs and keeps watching Snatch, "Thought you might know her, she appears to be Navy." He tilts his head, watching Snatch.

Pepper studies Snatch for a moment, mulling the woman. "I THINK she's one of Major Zimmerman's, but I could be wrong," she says, looking back to Fulton and giving him a wry grin.

Mopsus Doe's blue eyes meet Fulton's for a second, flickering to his companion and then back to him. Mouth scrunches to one side in a brief look of mixed irritation and disdain. "Whan— cher ne'er seen sommon's bin workin' a-fore?" she calls. ('What? You've never seen anyone who's been hard at work before?') She tries to keep the scorn in her voice to a minimum, but she's had a long week of the cityfolk gawking at her planing wood slats by the lake and not putting themselves to any profitable use.

Fultons reaction to Snatchs voice is a mild one. He considers, "Hmm, Aerelon." He remarks to no one in particular, then lifts his voice, "Not 'round here, and not in wood. You're onea' Zimmermanns? What's the job?" He asks, voice dropping into his more native Scorpian.

Pepper leans back in her chair, wrapping around her mug of tea as she listens, seeming to relax. Every so often she glances down at the ring on her left hand.

"We'ns wen' down hew'n uns som' wood from thar ruddy plan't thar," Snatch explains the origin of the woodworking material, "M'a gone fin'sh up them hatches fer them cacaoui o'er yonder," she gestures in the direction of the pond, "All goes good an' hopeful? We'ns git uns som egg, soon, an' haitchlin's t'increase them's flock. Maybe git uns offa algae fer sommat an' git uns som' real meats. Wan' len' som aid? Could shore use som' hainds t' keep them damned cityfolk from teasin' em poor cacaoui when A hain't about."

("We went down to hew wood from the Red Planet. I'm just finishing up building some roosts for the ducks out there. If things turn out well, we can have eggs, soon, and ducklings to increase the flock. Maybe get us off of Algae somewhat and have some real meat around. Want to help? I could use a few hands to guard the ducks and keep the damend cityfolk from bothering them when I'm not around.")

Fulton lifts a brow, "There wood down there? Huh. I'm no good with anumals, more likely you coming back and find 'em feeding on my corpse." He looks to Pepper, "You haven't met her then?" He asks, Pepper, then back to Snatch, "You know Pepper? Both Navy."

Pepper clearly has difficulty translating, so dips her head, acting like she knows what's being said. "I think I saw you on Gen once or twice," she tells Snatch with a small smile. "Never introduced, though."

Snatch narrows her eyes, scouring Pepper's features, "Pepper… Pepper… y'ns the C'manner's deskmonkey?" she thinks she knows that name, at least. "Del Boccyo, Mopsus Doe," she introduces herself.

Fulton watches Snatch, "You're one of Zimmermanns snipes?" He asks, in counterpoint.

Pepper dips her head to Snatch. "Was," she tells the other woman. "I'm assigned to Hera now."

Snatch's face brightens a little with a tired-looking smile, "Ou-ais," she agrees with Fulton's description, "Ah snaahp fer mahn Cap'm." ('Yessir, I'm my Captain's snipe!' And she sounds right proud of the fact. "Han, ou-ais," ('Oh, okay,') is all she comments to the news of Pepper's transferral— not, perhaps, knowing any of the background behind the decision.

Fulton nods to the response, smiling, "Been 'while since I seen her. Not since the water tests on the Destiny. Good work ya doin round tha fleet." He nods.

Pepper cants her head toward both of them, listening, relaxed.

"Ou-ais, we'ns is," Snatch replies to the allegations of good works done, in no way deferent nor shy, "The Cap'm ne'er -would- ought settle fer less from'ns," she explains with a short downward jerk of her chin in affirmation of the fact. "Whan's -your- work?" she asks.

Fulton blows out a breath, "Used to be head of a company, made ships. Battlestars, Assaultstars, all the Navy ships. John Fulton's my name." Well, the last name is definitely on enough boxes with parts and the like.

Snatch's brows draw together, "Ou-ais? Whah y'ns ain't join't up none, than? We'ns reg'lar -aichin'- fer hainds st' git on all our'n chores an' y'ns gone sit here -aahdle- when y'ns bin buildin' on canott all'n yer days?" she asks him, looking a little irritated that anyone would make that choice.

("Is that so? Why haven't you joined up, then? We're hurting for manpower to get all our work done and you're just going to sit idle over here, when you've got the expertise with ships that you have?")

Fulton smiles, "Cause I ran the company, made sure things got where they needed to go, and people were doin their jobs, not working the steels. And you got that covered already, with Zimmermann."

Snatch narrows her eyes, now, something in her frame stiffening. "Han— ou-ais, Ah gotcher. Y'ns like them 'farmers' back home ain't ne'er touched plow t' soil but brah'b off the taxmen t' come taik our'n lainds. Wayell… ne pas, deskmonkey, we'ns hain't no use for your sort 'roun' our'n canott. Y'ns reckon y'ns e'er wan' pick up a wrench an' do som' real chores, ken y'ns well-as, thar's chores thar fer yin," Snatch finishes up, anger subtly spiking in her voice as she tries to keep it level and flat, but utterly aimed toward making him feel like he ought to come around to doing 'real' work.

("Oh— okay, I get it. You're like those 'farmers' back home who haven't ever taken a plow to the soil, but who bribe the government to take away -our- farms to give to them. Well… no, Deskmonkey, we've got no use for your sort on our ship. If you ever figure out you want to take up some tools and do some real work? Be assured there's work waiting for you.")
<Trait Roll> Snatch rolls Intimidation and achieves a degree of Great (5).

<Trait Roll> Fulton rolls Willpower and achieves a degree of BeyondSuperb (7).

Fulton watches Snatch as she speaks, and smiles, "No, I'm like the man who commanded the Hera when it found the fleet after the Pegasus stripped out any chance they had of living. I'm like the man who made the message your ship found to come and help these people. I'm like the man who kept the people from turning on each other." His smile fades, "I'm like the man who handed over his ship so it can keep these people safe." He shrugs, "And now, I'm just an old man trying to keep people from thinking about the horrors they went through, or how many were gunned down after the Genesis arrived."

Snatch still looks angry, but it's colored more than a little with that damn-him-why's-he-got-to-go-and-be-reasonable look common enough to irritated youngsters who are convinced they're in the right. "… Well, git 'em som' chores t' git don'," Snatch declares, somewhat predictably. More chores cure everything, in the enginesnipe's mind. "Git 'em workin' hard an' not a one of'm'll be thinkin' on aught but faahndin' them's any-ole-place to lay down thems head at th'enna the day." It works for Mopsus Doe, at least. Keep working and there's no time for tears.

('Well, get them some work to do. Get them on some hard labor and not one of them will be thinking about anything but finding anyplace at all to lay down and rest after the day's work's done.')

Pepper makes her way back in from the bathroom. Doesn't LOOK like she was sick. For a moment, she takes in the expressions on the faces of Fulton and Snatch. It only takes a heartbeat before she moves in behind Fulton, sliding her hands to his shoulders, standing there like a very delicate avenging angel. She doesn't LOOK judgemental, but there's a very definite protective stance, a charged silence as she gets the feel for the situation she's missed out on thusfar.

Fulton looks up to Pepper, patting her hand and then places his elbows on the table, putting the tips of his fingers together, looking to Snatch, smiling, "That's an excellent idea, in fact, one I already took to your JAG officer, Major Altair. Get people back to work, start a new economy system so they can get honest pay for their sweat. Get people feeling a sense of pride for what they can do to help this fleet survive." He smiles at Snatch over his steepled fingers, "Now. If you would like to help Organize that, amongst the twenty some thousand people of this fleet? I would be delighted to get a meeting together with you, your CO, Major Zimmermann, and Major Altair and we can all hear about your plans for getting the right people doing the right jobs, and how you would suggest handling an economic system from the ground up." His eyes focus on Snatch with the gaze he's used across boardroom tables at the Colonial Admiralty, "Mopsus Doe del Boccyo, right?"

"Del Boccyo, ou-ais," Mopsus Doe replies, "Han! Easy-as," she declares. "Them's folk as ain't got a profitful trade," *ahem* Pyramid players *ahem* "Git them pair't orff an' 'prenniced t' sommon's got one. None o' than thar fussin' about with books… they'ns git on-job an' hainds-on day one, an we'ns walk 'em through as-needs. Twin yaahr, tree yaahr? Fer e'ery doccer we'ns got now, we'ns got twin doccer, ou-ais? Fer e'ery snaahp, twin snaahp an' so-on. Ou-ais?" Mopsus Doe asks again, looking briefly hopeful, since this fellow seemed to have some confidence in getting her plans enacted.

Pepper has seen that look before. She knows she's seen that look before. She knows that look she's seen before from her gentle, wonderful Uncle James is a look that scares the hell out of her. However, she was also the Commander's Aide for quite some time and is well used to Regas and Fotilas as well, not to mention Salin. One of these things is not like the other. She says nothing, for now, remaining quiet with her hands protectively, supportively, on Fulton's shoulders - though it's clear he's no need of either.

Subtitles: Del Boccyo, yea. Oh! Easy as (pie, cake, butter, choose your poison). Those people who don't have useful jobs, get them paired up with someone who does. No need for school. Get them on the job, day one, learning as they go. Two or three years, we've got two doctors for every one we had before, two snipes for every snipe and so on. Yeah?

Fulton smiles, looking at Snatch, "And how were you going to pay them? Or were you just.. going to pull a Pegasus on them?"

"Git 'em upped in the Navy," Snatch suggests reasonably. "New rank— 'pprennice or aught. Navy maaht not have funds t' pay, but they'ns always gone keep their folk fed an' clothed an' with a place t' sleep. Than ain't paid enough, thangs how th'are?"

Subtitles: "Get them enlisted in the Navy… a new Apprentice rank or something. The Navy might not have money-money, but they keep their people fed and clothed and with a place to sleep. Isn't that 'paid' enough, considering how things are?"

Pep listens attentively, curiously. She's listening - and learning. But which one she's learning from isn't clear.

Fulton ahhhs, nodding, "Conscription." He nods, "Just like the Pegasus. So you want everyone in the Navy then. Work for your food, and those who don't?" He shrugs, "Eh, they don't want to survive badly enough, well, you seem to have all this worked out." He rises, "Don't see why you can't take this to your CO yourself." He waves a hand, "Don't need an old Economist mucking things up."

Snatch wrinkles her nose, "We'ns all had t' work for our'n suppers back home, too, ou-ais. Crops ain't grown bah magics," she points out. "Y'ns ain't work yer laind, y'ns go hungry, ou-ais." Well, it's -true.- "Han… C'manner ain't lissnin t' the laiks o' min, no how, ne fret ye pas."

Subtitles: We all worked for our suppers back home, too, yep. Crops aren't grown by magic… you don't work your land, you don't eat, yep. Heh. The Commander doesn't take ideas from my sort, anyhow, so don't worry yourself about it.

Pep's hands slide from Fulton's shoulders as he stands, though one hand remains on the small of his back, thanks to relative size difference. Still - silent.

Fulton pushes his chair in, "Back home." He says carefully, "Is an irradiated wasteland." He looks at Snatch, a cold venom coming to his voice, "If you cannot understand the need for all types of people in our society, I certainly don't have the time or the inclination to explain why your plans and ideas will cause more deaths than one psychopathic Marine ever could hope for."

Snatch was taught not to strike her elders in anger, but that teaching strains thin when he talks about Aerelon like that, the need to make something/someone feel pain almost overwhelming. But beyond a vague tensing of her muscles she doesn't do anything. She's a good girl, like that. "Way-ell. Ain't manner none, ou-ais? None t' taik no heed on mahn ah-dears, is thar? Ah do als ah'm told. Y'ns cain't tell min whah Ah'm wrong, than Ah'm faahn gone on recknin' thangs same-as. Ah'd bes' git gone t' bed-down, ou-ais. Chores come early in the morn," she explains, turning to head out.

"Well. It doesn't matter anyway. Nobody to listen to my ideas, right? I do as I'm told. If you can't tell me why I'm wrong, I'm fine going on thinking about things the same way I do now. I'd better get to my bunk. Shift comes early in the morning."

Pepper steps away from Fulton and looks to Snatch, asking, with her eyes, for the other woman to not start something. No, she doesn't go into the reason, but it's a simple question.

Fulton turns from Snatch, "Thank the gods for small favors." He says, looking to Pepper, "Pep." He stops, then shakes his head, "I'm going back to the Destiny, I'll see you later." With that, he as well heads out.

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