Breaking And Entering
Breaking and Entering
Summary: Micah and Eve visit the Commander over his latest edict.
Date: 94 ACH
Related Logs: We're Leaving
Players:
Regas..Eve..Micah..

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Commanding Officers Quarters Genesis - Deck 11
94 ACH 23797 Souls


The CO's quarters are rather expansive. A large desk, small seating area, head and sleeping quarters are kept neat and tidy.
----< Condition Three - Duty Area >----—-

Exits: [O] Corridor
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Regas is still waiting for someone to show up to clean up his area. The busted bottle of booze is on the floor in front of the desk. Paperwork, his lamp, in and out boxes are strewn everywhere. One of the chairs in front of the desk is now sitting on his leather chair behind it. He's looking down at the moment, "Get this messed cleaned up and then find my XO."

The other guard clears his throat, "Sir, two are here to see you."

With that, Regas raises his head to see Micah and Eve. "I'm busy, if you are coming in here to whine, you can take it back out side."

Micah steps inside just after Eve, seeing as he'd held the hatch open for her. What a gentleman! The half-unzipped flight suit and sweat-damp hair and t-shirt certainly don't help that image, though. And the guard? The guard is ignored, as the pilot strides closer to where Regas is seated. "How long?" he demands, without a shread of preamble. "How long're we jumpin' away from the fleet for?" He's not shouting, at least. Yet.

Micah adds, belatedly, "sir."

Its amazing how fast word spreads on a ship. And when it applies to pregnant personnel, Evelyn tends to take notice. When she steps in ahead of Micah, she's dressed in her offduty regs, the grey and brown tanktops slightly bowed in the front from early signs of pregnancy. For the moment, she's silent. Letting Micah do all the 'grr' for now. She's just merely here for answers.

Those dark eyes are landing on Micah as he walks up. The Commander isn't seated, his seat is full of other stuff right now. The crunch of broken glass is heard under the pilots feet. "I don't think that is part of your paygrade, Jig. Now, unless you want to start sweeping up, I'd advise you to get a shower, see to your girlfriend and either stay on the Carina or be back on board. You only have 24 hours."

"WRONG frakking answer," growls the viper jock, hands coming down on the Commander's desk hard enough to jostle a few of its cluttered contents. Oh, yes. He's livid. He's just containing most of it, at the moment. "What am I goin' to do? Ask the CAG for answers? Oh, right. The CAG's gone. Fender's gone. Gold's too busy hangin' their sorry noses in their drinks to be any kind of use against the godsdamned toasters right now, and you want to jump away?" Okay, so much for his nominal concession to 'sir'.

Eve takes a step up then, "Easy, Saint Germain." She murmurs, eye sturning to the Commander, but making no apologies for her fiance's behaviour. "Sir, the Jig is just expressing a common panic that is running through out this ship. Unfortunately, morale is not above /my/ pay grade. If this were an emergency, that would be one thing, but this is a calculated decision on your behalf, so people deserve some sort of explanation to make a educated decision on. People are going to come to me for guidance, and I need to know where to guide them. In seventy two hours, orders are for me to move to the Carina. Now whether or not you lose another pilot because he feels obligated to stay with me? So if I have to pick up a broom and clean up your office just so you'll give me an answer and some peace of mind, Saint Germain will be happy to hold the dustpan. Sir."

"Then pull your head out of the self pity and move the squadron. That is what you do, isn't it Lieutenant? If we got attacked it would be no different. Now, I'll take your little slam fest on my desk, because you are used to throwing temper tantrums when something comes along you don't like. Either grow up or get the frak off my battlestar. Is that clear?" Regas snaps. He glances over toward the Psyche, "Send them to someone else, Lt. You have a more pressing problem right now and that is a child. If you are both finished, you may go."

<Trait Roll> Micah rolls Willpower and achieves a degree of Good (4).

Looks like the good cop, bad cop routine isn't working. Whatever Eve said, obviously didn't get through to the Commander; and whatever he said, isn't sending the two Lieutenants scattering just yet. "You think this is about self pity, sir?" Micah's managed to get his temper under control for the time being, at least, though his fingers are digging into the desk hard enough to gouge the wood with his nails. "Self pity's drinkin' myself into a stupor like half the pilots right now in berthings. This is about self preservation. Ah'm fair sick of listenin' to these nonsensical orders bein' passed down, and ah'm askin' you to reconsider. Unless you really think we've got the pilots to spare, that you can afford to keep losin' your front line troops like a bad case of diarrhea."

<Trait Roll> Regas rolls Willpower and achieves a degree of Great (5).

Eve takes a half step forward, trying to subtly place herself between the stick jockey and the Commander. "Sir. You gave me seventy two hours to think about someone other than my unborn child, and that's precisely what I'm doing. Despite the fact that you were the driving force about getting me getting myself a husband and now you're splitting us up on what seems like an unfounded whim. People are going to question your competency as the leader of this fleet, and right now it wouldn't hurt to have the head of the psychology department on your side, now would it?" Her eyes flick to Micah. "An explanation or a reconsideration. Doesn't seem too much to ask, now does it?"

"And what would you do if we were attacked, right now? Sit and wait till you had more pilots trained? I don't think the Cylons are that nice this week, Lt. St. Germain." Regas glances to the psyche now. "You can remain together. I wish you both the best of luck. But, just because I feel we should be fighting in this war, instead of running from it so we can give those civilians a chance to survive, doesn't mean I'm crazy. And that is all the explanation you are both going to get. I'd advise you both to make your decisions on this."

<Trait Roll> Micah rolls Willpower and achieves a degree of Good (4).

"Ah've made my decision, sir." It comes barely a breath after Regas has spoken, and the pilot's gaze is riveted on the other man— in spite of his dislike for eye contact. He must have come here straight out of a shower, or partway through one, because his hair's wet enough to be dripping on the Commander's desk. "I want her here. With me." His teeth dig into his lower lip, then release it slowly. And his next words? His next words are softer, and sound almost.. imploring. "Please. Ah've lost too many people."

Eve glancs to Micah, probably not expecting that. Well. Really at all. "This is my home. These are my people. I want to stay." She pulls her eyes back to the Commander. "I can be of some use. Even if you just put me to work packing munitions. I'm not so far along that its an encumberment yet. I'm just as safe here as I am on the Carina."

"And what happens if you lose the baby? What happens if we are out long enough for you to have it here?" Regas watches both carefully now, keeping an eye on the pilot mostly, he could flip out as easy as Gaelan. A quick check goes to see if he is wearing a sidearm.

Micah isn't. Since those were, y'know, banned for non-sentries while not on duty. He, presumably, had returned from CAP not too long ago what with the half undone flight suit. "Then we'll deal with that contingency, sir." Contingency? Big word for a viper stick. He's actually doing an admirable job of keeping himself in check; he pushes slowly off the desk and draws his arms about himself instead. The slight shift in posture has more broken glass crackling under his boots. "Would you rather lose a pilot, or risk a child? It's a war, sir, risk is a fact of life. Ah'll make sure she stays where she's meant to stay, and isn't a liability to the fleet. You let her stay, an' I swear to you ah'll be the best godsdamned pilot you've got left." Which strictly speaking, might be true now with the attrition they've been taking lately— Micah is a good pilot.

Eve just gives a curt nod in relation to Micah's words, there are just as many dangers to an unborn child if she were to be shipped off to the Carina. Just a staircase is a daily hazzard. All Eve can manage is a heavy swallow before breath fills her lungs and is held, waiting for the Commander's decision.

"Get out, Lieutenants. The next time I see you both, you better be making sure this ship is running well enough that I don't need to come and find out why." Regas watches Micah, "And you," his pause is very pregnant, more pregnant that Eve! "Show me you can do something besides go off the deep end and get those frakking pilots back on course." The breath is released, "Now, dismissed."

It's not entirely clear what that answer means. St. Germain looks almost confused for a moment, like he was expecting something else, some reason to hurl something at a bulkhead or clamber over the Commander's desk and deck him. His fingers curl with a soft crack of knuckles, then relax again. Eve's given a quick sideways glance. "Aye, sir." His chin lifts, and he snaps off a salute. And then? Then he's sidestepping a puddle of liquor and holding the hatch open for the psyche.

Did he just conceed to let her stay? She can't exactly leave without clarification. "If that's a yes, sir, I just may kiss you." Eve glances quickly from Micah to Commander and back again. "I can stay?" But she is taking a step towards the hatch, on the off chance Regas might change his mind.

"I wouldn't be spreading it around that you kissed the Ship's main Asshole, Lieutenant." Regas responds, that's about as close as he is getting to a flat answer. Although, about that time two crewmen arrive to clean his quarters, "It's about frakking time."

Micah pauses to let the two crewmen in, which provides ample opportunity for the pilot to mumble a 'thank you, sir' before escorting Eve— and then himself— out. Most likely the hum of their voices can be heard, filtering off down the hall.

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