Brass Shots
Brass Shots
Summary: The Majors go shooting and drinking, and prove themselves hardcore at neither.
Date: 13 BCH
Related Logs: None

Small Arms Range Genesis - Deck 14

13 ACH 6735 Souls

The shooting range can hold up to a dozen personnel that are working on their firearms skills. Each booth has a scorecard. Buttons in the booth sends the target down a runner and brings the target back. A locker holds some weaponry and is code locked for Officers and marine NCO's only. Ear and eye gear hang within the booths for protection.

----< Condition Three - Duty Area >----—-
Contents: Reed Rhea Zaharis Wireless 432

Exits: [O] Corridor

Reed loads the gun and chambers a round, lifting the gun to take aim. "No, it's impervious to bullets." He's at a stall, Zaharis down a few stalls, they're protected and Reeds ready to fire. The Marine checking out the Ammo is alive, the clock on the wall is still there, there's actually a few holes in the targets. Not many, but a few.

<Trait Roll> Reed rolls Firearms and achieves a degree of Poor (1).
<Trait Roll> Reed rolls Firearms and achieves a degree of Poor (1).

Reed's Desc
This man is tall, topping at an even six feet. His black hair is thick and cut regulation short, while his looks are square, youthful seeming and handsome. His black eyes seem to look out with an intent intelligence while his pale complexion seems more pale than someone used to natural sunlight. His frame is athletic, but not overly bulky.

Reed is dressed in Colonial Fleet fatigues minus the outer shirt. A dark brown tank top covers a gray sleeveless T-shirt, with a pair of silver hexagonal dogtags dangling from a chain around his neck. The T-shirt is tucked into a pair of olive green trousers, the legs of which are bloused into the top of black combat boots. A subdued black web belt is worn around the waist.

Rhea strides onto the range. In her off-duty threads, but there's a businesslike look about her. She's got her service weapon. It's been dusted and everything. She heads to one of the booths but pauses when she sees who else is doing some target practice. She pauses. To watch. Doing nothing to announce her presence.

Rhea's Desc
In her middle thirties, Rhea Zimmermann is neither a young pup nor particularly grizzled. There's an air of easy, straightforward competence about her. The confidence of a woman who knows herself and owns both her strengths and foibles. She as a strong-featured, handsome face: high cheek bones, a broad nose and almond-shaped hazel eyes. Her face is smooth, save for tiny laugh and smile lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth. When she speaks, traces of a working-class Sagittaron accent color her words, though education and years of living off-colony have softened it. But her most distinguishing feature is probably her hands. Small but strong and calloused, with deft fingers and short nails that usually have traces of grease under them. Her long dark hair is currently worn down, falling in straight, almost black, strands down her back.

Rhea is dressed in Colonial Fleet fatigues minus the outer shirt. A dark brown tank top covers a gray sleeveless T-shirt, with a pair of silver hexagonal dogtags dangling from a chain around her neck. The T-shirt is tucked into a pair of olive green trousers, the legs of which are bloused into the top of black combat boots. A subdued black web belt is worn around the waist. The only jewelry she wears is a plain gold wedding band, on the third finger of her left hand.

Zaharis closes his eyes and nods again, lacing his hands behind his neck. When they open again he looks down the empty stall at the targetless wall staring back at him, and reaches over for his sidearm to start reloading. "Gotten to talk to Gaelan since they pinned him?"

A man of average height in his late thirties, with an athletic build. He has the kind of dark eyes that people mean when they say "soulful", under heavy brows that have a perpetual, expressive quirk to one or the other. His face is square with a strong jaw and a tendency to grow a five o' clock shadow quickly. The sort of face that changes with ease from serious to laughter and back again. His hair is a very dark brown, kept short but not so severe as a military buzzcut.

Zaharis is dressed in Colonial Fleet fatigues. The olive green shirt is tucked into matching trousers, with a subdued black web belt around the waist. The trousers are in turn bloused into black combat boots. A softer, lighter green fabric decorates the shoulders of the shirt, and the buttons up the center are hidden by a flap. Black quick clips, rather than buttons, secure two large pockets on the front of the shirt. On his left sleeve is the black, gold and white Genesis patch. The pins on his collars show a rank of Major.

Reed pauses in his shooting, "Nope. Though I'm waiting for JAG to come to see me in the course of their investigation into the MAA. Just a matter of time." He lifts his gun at the target.

<Trait Roll> Reed rolls Firearms and achieves a degree of Mediocre (2).

"Gentlemen," Rhea announces herself briskly. Since nobody's put a hole in the ceiling, she might as well get to it. She slots into a stall between her fellow majors, loading her pistol. Goggles on, ear protection on her head. She holds the weapon speculatively. As if feeling it out in her hands. She looks more serious than she usually does on the range.

"Gods, what a shitheap." Zaharis' voice recovers a bit from the spell of flatness it had slid into. His attention shifts as Rhea goes past, and he comments to her. "The MaA, not you."

Reed lowers the weapon and looks around, "Ah, three armed Majors all in a row, with guns. We're the most overbrassed firing squad ever known. Pull up a paper Cylon, Major, and welcome to our little attempt at hitting things.

"What the frak *is* going on with that whole mess?" Rhea asks, as to the MaA. "I heard he got into some sort of spat with the JAGs and the XO. Frakking lovely time for that nonsense." She nods to Zaharis. Smirking. "Don't speak so soon, Jesse. I'm sure my shooting will more than live up to the shitheap moniker. So, you two felt the need to put in some time here as well?" She fires off a cap before waiting for an answer.

<Trait Roll> Rhea rolls Firearms and achieves a degree of Poor (1).

"I told you, Rhea. I only know nurse gossip, and that's a fast road to hell." Zaharis slides the new clip into his sidearm and sends a new paper target back towards the wall. He leans forward enough that she can see him, pointing at one of the holes. In the -ceiling-, that's class. "See that? That's mine. Carter will try and say he was that awesome, but it was all me." And with that he tries this again. Blam.

<Trait Roll> Zaharis rolls Firearms and achieves a degree of Poor (1).

Reed smiles, "Hey, Doctor, nights young. I can still try for a shot like that." He shrugs, though, "all I can add is what happened before the attacks, and nothing more, might not have much of an impact, but if they come looking for me, I've got to answer honestly." He lifts his gun and fires off a round.

<Trait Roll> Reed rolls Firearms and achieves a degree of Poor (1).

Rhea offers Zaharis a wry grin. "Hey, it's right next that one I pegged up there. They can be little friends." She's not making fun, really. She doesn't puncture the wall, but she does miss her target cleanly. Not that she's particularly bothered by it. She just aims again. "I wonder if the attacks got to him. You wouldn't think with someone with the MaA's record but…" She shrugs. "…I suppose we're none of us coping well." Bang.

<Trait Roll> Rhea rolls Firearms and achieves a degree of Mediocre (2).

"I dare you," Zaharis replies to Reed, as he lines up his next shot. At Rhea's words he talks without moving his head, trying hard to hit more than the corner of the target this time. "Records…eh. The stars incline, they do not determine. He sounds like a man who felt like he lost control, to me."

<Trait Roll> Zaharis rolls Firearms and achieves a degree of Poor (1).

Reed mms, "Don't dare me, Doctor." He says, smirking, lifting his gun and pauses, "I disagree. I've seen his actions before the attacks. He strikes me as the type of man who started his career as a kid in the first war. He became a veteran of the first war, and that shaped his habits. He's so used to being the old man who everyone let run roughshod over them that he list every scrap of military discipline he ever had, and now, he just can't stand how the Military runs in reality as opposed to how it should run in his own head. I really don't know how Adama stood for it on Galactica." BLAM!

<Trait Roll> Reed rolls Firearms and achieves a degree of Mediocre (2).

"Control. Right," Rhea murmurs. She actually hits the target with her second shot. If that target were a person, she'd have grazed its thigh. Not exactly deadly aim. "Well, if he is unstable, best to remove him quickly." To Reed, she snorts. "I told you before, Reed. There are a handful of military men who see their uniform as an extension of their penis. From the sound of your little adventure with him, it doesn't go much deeper than that." Bang, bang.

<Trait Roll> Rhea rolls Firearms and achieves a degree of Poor (1).
<Trait Roll> Rhea rolls Firearms and achieves a degree of BeyondTerrible (-1).

"We'll see what the Colonel decides to do with him," Zaharis says, since that's really the best he can offer. He doesn't visit the brig unless someone's had a heart attack. "He can wave his uniform-penis all he wants; sooner or later it'll his fault if it gets chopped off."

<Trait Roll> Zaharis rolls Firearms and achieves a degree of Terrible (0).

Chopped off by friendly officer fire, no doubt.

Reed closes his eyes, "I really don't want to think about how deep his penis extentions go, thanks, Rhea. If he likes waving it around, I'm sure someone with scissors will be able to give him a snipping. so we wait, and deal with what we've got." He opens his eyes and squeezes off a shot.

<Trait Roll> Reed rolls Firearms and achieves a degree of Mediocre (2).

Rhea misses again. Frowning. Annoyed. She fires again, with feeling. She doesn't hit the ceiling. This time, her rubber bullet goes awry and ricochets off to hit the wall. Pew! Her frown turns to a wry smirk. "That it will. Though this is a poor time for us to lose any man. Their own fault or not." She snorts. "That's why I hang around my fellow rear echelon mother-frakkers. Less chance of getting winged by scissors." Pew!

<Trait Roll> Rhea rolls Firearms and achieves a degree of Good (4).

Zaharis is about to comment, but Rhea's shot takes precedence above all else. He narrows his eyes down at the target, then at his and Reed's, then back at Rhea's. "Dammit! Does that mean we owe you a drink?"

Reed looks at the shot and smirks, "I got one left, then I'm out of my three target clips. Maybe.." He lifts his gun, concentrating.

<Trait Roll> Reed rolls Firearms and achieves a degree of Terrible (0).

Reed sighs, "No, all the talk of snipping penises…"

Rhea puts one through her target's heart. That's more like it. She nods shortly. Snorting at Zaharis. "Lucky shot. I haven't exactly given a top account of myself. I just hope I can get the rust off my trigger-finger before my snipes hit the range. I've ordered additional training for my department. I hate to embarrass myself in front of the kids." Reed's comment makes her smirk, but she does not respond. Emptying the rest of her clip into her target.

<Trait Roll> Rhea rolls Firearms and achieves a degree of BeyondTerrible (-1).
<Trait Roll> Rhea rolls Firearms and achieves a degree of Terrible (0).
<Trait Roll> Rhea rolls Firearms and achieves a degree of Fair (3).

"Don't worry, Reed." Zaharis replies, drily. "We can re-attach." He too raises his weapon and empties the rest of the clip, then exhales through his nose, relaxing his shoulders.

<Trait Roll> Zaharis rolls Firearms and achieves a degree of Poor (1).
<Trait Roll> Zaharis rolls Firearms and achieves a degree of Fair (3).
<Trait Roll> Zaharis rolls Firearms and achieves a degree of Fair (3).

Reed lowers his weapon, ejecting his clip into his palm, and starts dissassembling the thing, to clean it. He does this better than the shooting. For now he's watching the other two Majors taking their shots.

Rhea chuckles at Reed. "I think we're all of us geldings if you go by our performance here. Not a stick I ever measured by. But, guns were never a big part of my duties. Now…well. It doesn't hurt to be prepared." She botches another of her shots, it winging off to hit the wall, and misses cleanly when she tries again. Her last one hits the target, though. In the shoulder, but it does hit it.

Zaharis slices a bit off the target's side, then hits the second ring twice. He wrinkles his nose at it and gives up, taking care of the weapon and stepping out of the stall. "Ah, well. What say we hit the observation deck or someplace, and I'll bring up something to make it worthwhile. I'm not going back to the taproom tonight, that frakking parrot's got cooties."

Reed puts his weapon back together, clearing and checking it one final time before sliding his live clip back into the weapon, not chambering it, and placing the safety on before sliding it into his hip holster, and securing it within. "Sounds alright to me, I've gone through my three clips." He touches the controls, to bring his lousy target in and removing it, replacing it and sending the fresh target back down to the normal range.

Rhea gets her weapon stripped and cleaned, now that she's done with it. Also doing that much more proficiently than the shooting parts. That part's purely mechanical. She grins at Zaharis, but shakes her head firmly. "No, no. I'll bring the refreshments. I still owe this one a drink." She gestures a thumb at Reed. "Besides, I think we've got the same stock in our cellar, Doctor."

Zaharis raises his hands in surrender at Rhea. "Alright, alright. Long as it's got the Desusa Stamp of Approval, I'll tip it back."

Reed collects his empty clips and smirks, moving to the check out area to log his Target Ammo useage, signing off on it before nodding to the man behind all that bulletproofing and moves out of the way. "I'll need to change and offload my rig, and I'll be there."

Rhea winks to Zaharis and heads off, to get her own Shooting Range affairs in order. Then, she's off to get booze.

Zaharis does likewise. Om nom booze.

Reed leaves, starting the Benny Hill music as they scramble off for alcohol.

Viewing Deck Support Station PAS - Deck 4

13 ACH 6735 Souls

As the rings on the station rotate slowly, it is never really felt, but the viewport allows a wonderful viewing of space. Here, the four, large panels give a showing that is worth just sitting and watching the stars float by. Seating is more of a lounge, than a theater type. All couches are bolted down, but extremely comfortable for sitting and relaxing. There is even a mini-refreshment bar along the back wall, which is self-serve.

-----< Condition Three - Public Area >----
Contents: Reed Rhea Zaharis Wireless 944

Exits: [O] Out

Rhea detoured briefly to her berthing aboard the Genesis, to dig out a bottle of Picon rum. She's brought it to the station, and claimed three glasses from the refreshment bar. She's settled on a couch now. Filling her glasses.

Reed comes in, freshly in his off duty clothes, and he makes for the seats, where he sits down heavily, "Well, productive day."

Zaharis ducked into the shower, his hair still damp as he returns to the PAS. He has his fatigues shirt on but it's unbuttoned. Clearly so. He heads for the couches and digs a cigarette pack from his side pocket as he does, lighting one up before sitting down in an armchair. Coffee has been bypassed, it's time for the good shit kids.

Rhea snorts at Reed. "Productive. Yeah. I killed a wall. Is that technically friendly fire?" She chuckles, filling a drink for the PAS CO. And the CMO, generous mood that she's in. She was in her off-duty fatigues anyhow, and has remained thus.

Reed chuckles, "Did you apologize to the wall? if not, then it's not friendly fire." He reaches over for a glass and sits back. "Well, I had a productive day even before keeping paper targets safe from my shooting.

Zaharis picks up his glass, settling back and pulling an ankle up over knee. "Productive," he muses in an absent tone. A glance at the viewport for a second, then he corrals his attention back to the two. "Heard something about eels."

Rhea's brows arch at Reed. "You find yourself a new monster to play with down in the swamp?" she asks, settling in comfortably herself. She tucks her feet up on the PAS' nice couch, fold them under her.

Reed smiles, lifting the glass, looking at the rum inside thoughtfully, "Yep." He looks to Rhea, "The Doctors girlfriend saved the fleet from its hunger problem. With eels. I'm pretty confident that Adele hit upon a process whereby we'll be able to produce enough meat to feed everyone in the fleet, indefinitely."

Zaharis ponders this. "I could make an extremely inappropriate comment right now, but I'm not nearly drunk enough. So I'll settle for: That's frakking fantastic." He lifts the glass and is about to sip, when he realises something and stops. "Shit, we haven't toasted. Who gets the honour?"

Rhea's face breaks into a broad smile. "Damn. That's the first real good news I've heard in days. To Adele, then." She lifts her glass. "And her eels."

Reed lifts his glass, "Adele, and her eels!" He then takes the drink and drinks with a hearty shot. He sits back and hisses at the burn, "Oh, that is nice." Whew.

Zaharis follows suit with the toast and knocks back most of what was in his glass, his expression becoming one of grit teeth. "Apollo's balls, that'll knock you flat on your ass."

Rhea drinks. Deeply. She doesn't exactly chug the whole glass, but she's not daintily sipping, either. "Captain Desusa has a fine stock. I guess a man needs something to keep him warm on an Assaultstar. Anyhow. That's a relief. We've food and water, at least. Enough can't be said for that."

Reed nods, sitting back with a gasp, "Oh yeah, that's a nice bottle there. Impressive." He looks at the remnants of his glass and drinks the rest of it in a shot. Another hiss and sigh, "The Captain has fine taste in rum."

"To Desusa as well then, the rumbringer." Zaharis finishes off his glass, having recovered from the initial burn enough to do that. He exhales through pursed lips, glancing at his burning cigarette. "I'm afraid to take a drag, lest my breath go up in flames."

"To Desusa, a more generous Marine I've never met," Rhea toast. And drinks some more. To Reed she explains, "The Captain gifted me with a bottle after my snipes finished with the Pandora. I think Jesse got one was well. I make it a point never to turn down a free drink."

Reed points to Rhea, "A fine, fine reason to accept, even with your policy of accepting free drinks." He looks to Zaharis, "Just be careful, so you don't look like your Night of Veils costume. I'd hate to have to hit you with Boroton foam."

"I'll try and spare you." Zaharis smirks at Reed and hazards that drag, taking a long one and exhaling towards the ceiling. He gives Rhea a nod. "He brought one by. Mine's a touch low, gave all the medics that went over there a nip off it. Good team, that."

"This is the first time I've cracked mine open," Rhea says. Finishing her first drink. She downed it fast. Another is poured. "I should share with my snipes, come to it. I didn't think much about it until you mentioned it on the range. I'd almost forgotten I had it."

Reed nods, "I've been treating Rogers and his men to free drinks in the Taproom for all the extra work they've been putting in. I've been so busy lately, I've forgotten about a lot of things I have in my quarters. Just little time to mess with it all."

"Yeah…" Rhea murmurs in agreement. "We should all take the downtime while we have it, I guess. I've barely had time to sleep lately." Now that she /is/ relaxing a little, she looks restless. More drinking will help with that. So she does so.

Zaharis smiles a little at Rhea and exhales, leaning his head back for another slow drag off the cigarette. His foot pushes his glass closer to the rum bottle, probably testing to see if he can get her to fill it. "Everyone was waiting so hard for Condition three and now that we've got it, not much has actually changed."

Reed nods to Rhea, "Yeah, I actually got a new CIC officer for Weapons, so there's another Watch officer I can use, and I don't have to worry aabout firing the PAS guns myself." he looks to the others, "I'm better with the computerized guns than my sidearm, really, hit a raider even, once."

Rhea grins. "I believe you, Major Carter. That's good, though. The hitting the raider part and getting some relief. Where'd you pick up the new Weps?" She does not fill Zaharis' glass. Just looks across at him wryly. "Something wrong with your wrist, Doctor?"

Zaharis leaves for Passageway [o].
Zaharis has left.

Reed smiles as Zaharis gets some kind of emergency of the personal kind to go take care of, and he sits forward, setting his glass on the table. "Yeah, first time I really fired at Cylons.. Well, only time thusfar. Still, it was good to know all that time on the guns paid off."

Rhea sips some more at her second glass of rum, nodding. "I don't think I'd be of much use on the firing line." Not that she sounds particularly disturbed about it. "We're all tools in the machine. I'm a wrench, not a firing pin. Closest I've come was that frakking basestar we stumbled on in the Sula. But the refrigeration ship doesn't have guns, and I didn't think throwing freezers would be very tactically effective." She laughs at the memory, but it sounds forced. Drink, drink.

Reed nods, looking at her, "You did an outstanding job, Rhea. you kept your cool, kept everyone together, and made it back, and you know what? We got some big assed Tyllium tanks out of it, that's going to make this fleet able to do a hell of a lot more than before."

"I thought I was gone there for a second," Rhea says softly. Ignoring the praise. "Either from the Cylons, or from my own engines ripping that little scow apart. The latter I can deal with. You work in an engine room, you learn to balance acceptable risk when dealing with big machines. I haven't been blown up by one of my creations yet. But when I saw that basestar…" She shudders. And drinks.

Reed nods, looking at her. "I understand. We're all going to have to come to grips with those frakking things sooner or later, in one way or another." He tilts his head. "you saw it and did well, that's the point. Fear didn't cripple you."

"It's part of the job now, I guess," Rhea says. She can deal with it on that level more easily than the idea of war. She lets out one of those wry chuckles. "I remember when the Navy recruiters came to my high school. The guy actually said to me, 'Don't worry. Cylons've been gone for twenty years. Closest I've come to an enemy was a drunk Marine at the Officer's Club.'" She snorts. "Not that he was wrong for most of it."

Reed chuckles, nodding, "Yeah, for so long I was in a lab, doing work on understanding anomalies of weather patterns, seismic disturbances, terrain typing. Battle tactic was an intellectual exercise. I was supposed to be in a lab for my career, or doing boring work to further frakking science in one of the most boring research fields out there."

Rhea does some more sipping at her drink, smirking at Reed. "Somehow, I don't think you would've found it all that boring. I know what you mean, though. Like I said, I'm no soldier. I'm just a snipe. There's plenty of call for that right now, at least. If not quite in the way I thought I'd be working."

Reed nods, "I know what you mean. I never thought I'd be suddenly scrambling to try to find self sufficency means for an entire fleet." He smiles back to her, "And you're a hell of a snipe, Rhea. Pulled off some miracles already in these past two weeks."

Rhea snorts. Finishing her drink. And pouring a third. Good rum, that. "Hardly. I'm just trying to keep busy. Make myself useful. Not much more any of us can do right now." She idly swirls her wrist, watching the liquid in her glass rotates. "I just wish…I can handle myself. I'm worried about my people. My snipes. They all seem so young, y'know…"

Reed nods, "I know. I have several crewmen, recruits here." He sits back, "This one recruit, off the Pandora. Worked.. I think it was deck. Walking wounded, arm injury. She's down in the PAS bay now, working on maintenance. Eighteen frakking years old. Can't have been out of basic longer than.. I don't know, six, seven months before we found Pandora?"

Rhea nods at that. "I got a little lieutenant off the Pandora. Gods. That ship seemed like a nightmare when we found it. Now…" She trails off. Not really wanting to finish that thought. "I just want to do right by them. That's part of what the whole firearms training thing is about. I don't really expect my snipes to taking on the toasters with their bare hands. Different tools. But they should feel like they're prepared. It can be frustrating when you're that age. Watching your Marine and pilot buddies go out and start shooting while you hang back with the FTL. They need to know what they're doing is important. That they're part of it."

Reed nods, "And the simple fact is you can schedule training for them, but they're not going to have the time and length of time needed to dedicate to make their shooting anywhere like a Marine. They're not centered around it." He rubs his face. "And you can focus them on their tasks, but it doesn't feel like it matters, until it comes to crunch time." He looks to Rhea, "When that happens, they'll understand. Each one of them will learn about the importance of what the snipes do."

"I just want to keep them focused. On anything. Protein resequencing, robotics, guns…it almost doesn't matter. Just got to keep moving. They're all shaken up right now. And they really are just kids." Rhea looks down at her drink again. "I wish I knew how to help them better."

Reed thinks for a moment, and shakes his head, "Take a little time, drop a few words with each one of them about how they fit in with each other. I know you know this, but it seems to work for me. Just keep them going and they'll get their own momentum, eventually."

Rhea nods at that. "I will. I'm proud of them, really. And I should say it. They've all done more than anyone should be asked to do." She laughs. "Gods, do you remember when you were twenty years old? I shouldn't have been jumping a ship out from under the noses of Cylons, that's for damn sure."

Reed nods, "Yeah, I was this dumb kid working on making my geeking mark with chemical formulae, trying to apply it to the real world." He chuckles, "Man, it wasn't that bad, but it was all so.. open, like there were so many ways I could have gone."

"At twenty I was…" Rhea pauses, reflecting. It makes her smile. "University. On Caprica. U Delphi. I'd just finished my tour as an enlisted. Gotten my schooling paid for by the Navy. Gods." She laughs. "I must've seemed like such an arrogant little thing back then. Between the Navy and Sagittaron, I had quite a chip on my shoulder when they tossed me in with the college kids."

Reed grins, "I can picture that, really, You as this energetic little thing, proving to the rich college kids that you're enough brain to be there." He nods, "Which of course, you were."

Rhea snorts. "I was terrified, actually. That they'd figure out I was a fraud who wasn't a tenth as smart or tough as she wanted everyone to think she was. I got over it, though. Got knocked down a couple of pegs. I was out of my comfort zone, which was probably best for me. You grew up there, right? Caprica, that is."

Reed nods, "Yep, Caprica. Grew up there, went to school, Academy there, spent most of my vacations and leave time somewhere else, but, yeah, I'm a Caprican boy."

Rhea chuckles. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Reed. I mean, Caprica does have its reputation, but I'm sure you're one of the good ones." She does some more sipping. More slowly now, though she's definitely teetering on the edge of her limit. But for now she's just a wistful sort of buzzed. "I got to love Delphi, actually. Beautiful city. The parks, museums, libraries…I'd never seen anywhere like it. I toyed with the idea of going back to get my master's." She smirks. "That was kind of like the teaching gig on Picon. Seemed like something I'd have time for 'later.'"

Reed nods, thinking, "And then one day, later stopped happening." He rubs his eyes, "It's a terrible realization, your future, what you planned for, invested your heart into, the golden glow at the end of the road. Gone. And now you're stuck with these.. sharp pieces of the stub of your dreams." He shakes his head, "And that's what you've got to deal with. Because that's what you've got to work with."

"Yeah…sharp stubs…" Rhea murmurs. This call for more drinking. She finishes off a good quarter of what's in her glass for that one. Tilting her head at Reed. Regarding him in that rather deep, hazy fashion alcohol induces. "So what about you, Major Reed Carter? What was on your grand agenda? Aside from creating entire new worlds, of course."

Reed smiles, "Mine? Oh, let's see. Find someone who I could try again with, retire from this project after pouring as much of myself into it as I could, training someone to carry on from here, go find some nice bit of a Colony somewhere, settle down with that special someone, preferably on a high mountain peak, and have enterprising young wisdom seekers climb up to ask me for my insights, you know, the usual."

Rhea laughs softly. "You really do go for the whole 'Zeus on his Mountaintop' thing, don't you? Maybe you should talk to Lieutenant Sloan about it." But the image makes her smile. "That sounds nice. Not the guru bit, but the settling down. Y'know, my husband and I were together for thirteen years, and the longest we were together straight was three of them. On Picon. And we wasted a lot of that time making each other miserable." More drinking. "It took running out on Genny to get my priorities in order. Humans are phenomenally stupid creatures, aren't we?"

Reed nods, "Yes, yes we are. It's not till something takes away from us that which we have that it really.." He looks into space, "Really becomes clear what it meant to us."

"Yeah…" Rhea trails off. Raising her glass to her lips. She frowns. It's empty again. That will not do. She reaches out to put it back on the table, so she can pour herself some more. It takes her a couple of tries to actually *set* it on the table itself. Her sensory skills are a bit off. When she *does* manage to settle it, without breaking the thing, she chuckles. "Maybe I should've gotten something to eat first. This stuff kicks."

Reed leans forward, to protect the bottle, "You want to get something to eat?" Far too sober, this guy.. How much did he drink?

Rhea considers Reed narrowly. Hazily glaring at his sobriety. That's not fair. "Hmm? Nah. Probably not the best idea now. I should head back to my bunk, I think. Least I won't have any trouble sleeping tonight."

Reed rises, moving around to in front of where Rhea is and offering a hand down to her. "If you insist."

Rhea takes the hand. She's not tripping over herself yet, but her course is more wobbly than usual. "You are an officer and a gentleman, Major. Frak, how much did you have to drink? That's horribly unfair. This is why Jesse and I are friends. I can always count on him to stay *well* ahead of me."

Reed pulls her up strongly, making sure the inevitable headrush is well accounted for in the balance equasions, "Well, I had the drink you poured." He pauses, "Yeah. Alcohol of this quality is not going to last forever, you know."

"Whoa!" Rhea's head spins as she comes up. She balances against Reed, sort of flopping on his shoulder. She nods shortly at that last part. "Damn frakking right. And it's mine, too! You want some of your own, you'll have to go fix your own Assaultstar."

Reed grins, steadying Rhea against him. He holds her as he leans down to cap and pick up the bottle with his free hand. "Quite so. Rationing is in effect, after all." He straightens, "and it is yours. you earned it."

"Damn right I did," Rhea says firmly. If blurrily. "Remember how frakked up that ship was before I got my hands on it? Lots of people would've scrapped it. But no. Now it's jumping like…" She tries to snap her fingers. It takes a couple of failed attempts before she manages to *snap* them properly. "…that. Frakkin'a." On that note she plots a slow course off of the viewing deck. Using Reed as a handy walking stick.

Reed nods, holding onto Rhea carefully as they make their way on out. He makes a good sort of walking stick. He makes course corrections and keeps things on an even track. "Pandoras jumping like she just rolled off the line, Rhea, I tested her FTL, remember? You did a fine job."

Rhea isn't difficult to steer. She's not a bulky ChEng. "Frakking right I did," she says with a grin. "I wouldn't let you get blown up, Reed. I like you too much." She laughs, managing to head out without bouncing off any walls or furniture.

Reed reaches the door, "Aww, that's nice." He comes to a stop. "do you need an escort back to Genny, or are you going to be okay?" He asks, holding up the bottle to Rhea, eyeing her critically.

Rhea reclaims her bottle. Straightening. More or less. "I know the way, Major. I'm not as practiced as Jesse at navigating the shuttle transfers after last call, but I'm a big girl." She semi-salutes him. Though it turns into a wavy flick of her wrist. With that, she departs. Not in a particularly straight line, but she still avoids faceplanting into a bulkhead.

Reed watches her go, and takes in a breath, letting it out very slowly. "Evil man evil man, bad thoughts, focus." He mutters under his breath.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License