Boondocks in the Brig
Boondocks in the Brig
Summary: Micah has a little chat with Orion in the brig.
Date: 53 ACH
Related Logs: Bothered and Brigged
Players:
Orion..Micah..

Clad in sweats and clearly not drunk at this point, Orion's sitting on the floor, knees up… and playing with a long length of string (predictably). Yes. He's playing cat's cradle, and he hasn't lost and of his bizarrely freakish skill at this time wasting 'game' as the last time he was playing it. He's not even looking at his hands. He's staring up at the ceiling.

The sound of the hatch opening can be heard, and voices in the corridor. Some of them MPs, one of them not. After a brief discussion, an officer dressed in navy blues detaches and approaches the cell Orion's in. Yep, it's Micah, and he's sporting.. what looks like a splint on the bridge of his nose. It still looks a little swollen. "The frak were you thinking?" he demands as he draws to a halt.

Orion lowers his head towards you. His expression is blank at first and he doesn't say anything. It might be easy to expect he's going to do some sort of emo thing where he just ignores you, or declines to say anything to anyone. What happens, instead, couldn't be farther from that. He looks at you, then laughs out loud. And he doesn't sound like he's faking it, either. He -actually- slaps his knee and looks genuinely amused.

Micah doesn't laugh along, doesn't start huffing and puffing; doesn't really do much of anything at all, actually. Arms folded across his chest, he cants his gaze off slightly to the left, and waits.

It seems that Micah's got some waiting to do. It takes a good six or seven seconds before Orion stops laughing. When he does, the cutoff is sudden. It's just hysterical laughter followed by a shrug and a casual, "Hell I don't know. Wasn't. What's that on your face, Micah? You look like you're trying out for a beauty pageant."

"You think you're pretty cute, with that flippant attitude, don't you?" It's answered quietly, the remarks about his face and beauty pageants shunted aside like they weren't even made.

Orion pats his thighs, "I'm here, ain't I? I -might- could be glum and morose." He doesn't exactly sound -perky-, mind you, "But that ain't gonna get me out of here much quicker, and the idea of a guy with a busted up face asking me what I was thinkin… you know, it's kinda personal, I reckon. Wish I'd given you the flask when you needed it. Would've saved me some trouble. I lit up after I landed. Had it in my pocket, still. Didn't even realize it."

Micah still doesn't discuss his face, and what might or might not have happened. It's like he doesn't even hear it mentioned. "Here's the thing, you little frakhead." He steps back, rests his hip against the wall as he watches the other pilot. "Ah've made my share of mistakes. Plenty of 'em. Ah'll probably make more. But this? This wasn't a mistake. This is all some big frakking joke to you."

Orion tilts his head to one side. That statement apparently cut a little bit, "Look here." His tone drops a bit, "I worked my ass off to earn these wings, same as any other pilot, I lost everything, same as anyone else still alive. Yeah, I shouldn't have lit up. After the shit I heard on that radio? I was not prepared for that. Not at -all-."

"Then frakking act like it," is Micah's immediate reply. He pushes away from the wall and strides closer, mismatched eyes fixed on the smaller pilot. "We all heard what went on over the wireless, I don't even frakking begrudge you the drink. I might've done the same. But you treat this like a big frakking joke, and you are a frakking DANGER to anyone whose wing you fly. Frak up, make mistakes, deal with the consequences, but DON'T you be flippant about it. You little frak." Some of that legendary St. Germain anger simmers to the surface, and is summarily stifled as he takes a steadying breath. "You're a rook. Aye, you earned those wings, I don't doubt it. But you will show some deference to those who've seen cold, hard time in the cockpit. Or they'll break you."

Orion looks you over. Smaller or not, he doesn't seem so afraid to get into a scrap. Of course, it's easy when there's a barrier in the way. "I ain't." And then he tilts his head to one side, considering his words, "World's frakked, of course. I join one of the last squadrons in creation and I'm a rook. Hard enough for a rook to slip in normally. This, I feel like everyone's got an eye on me, waiting for me to frak up. You think I -want- to let everyone down? Hell, brother. Getting frakked up under a deuss con? I need to tighten the frak up, or loosen up… I don't know which. But this ain't what I wanted, not at -all-."

"This isn't what any of us wanted, Boondocks." He shakes his head a little. "Least of all me. But you remember what I said. You frak up, you deal with it. You listen to what your senior officers have to say." Which, apparently, includes him. "And you don't let the Captain catch you drinkin' when you've got to be on alert." He rolls his jaw slightly, then backpedals once before turning about to depart.

"You know you really -are- an asshole?" It's the most bizarre thing. It almost sounds like a compliment, even though there's an accusatory edge to it.

Micah merely grins, and keeps on walking. After a few words with the MPs at the door, he's escorted out.

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