Captain Ensign Bulkhead Sandwich
Captain Ensign Bulkhead Sandwich
Summary: Things in the Air Wing get a little dicey when Jailhouse throws a little too much 'tude at his Squad Leader.
Date: 44 ACH
Related Logs: Gramp-Fu (Second half of this one.)

Battlestar Genesis, Deck 9, Observation Deck (Rooster's Nest), 44 ACH

The observation deck is at the fore of the ship. The viewport allows those who come here to relax and enjoy a little quiet time with opposite sex. When the ship is under Alert levels, the viewport has a steel shutter that automatically comes down over the viewport for protection of the glass. The seats here are single and double and set up like a theater. They are cushioned and some recline back for those quick naps.

In the back of the Obs Deck, in her usual spot, sits Captain Addie Nikos scribbling into her ever present small notebook with a freshly sharpened pencil. She isn't looking at the stars, but she rarely does that when she comes here, unless she's talking with someone else.

The smell of nicotine precedes Micah's arrival, as it often tends to. It's a cheap brand, but one can't afford to be picky when essentials like cigarettes are being rationed. He draws to a halt by the window, rather than settling into a chair, and exhales smoke through his nose in a manner that partially obscures his view of the stars.

Rationing is for people without stores of quality goods like coffee and smokes. Not that Addie has either of those. That's… obvious. As the smoke begins to permeate the room, the Captain glances up from her writing, pencil pausing only briefly. "Jailhouse." It's a greeting, though the tone is indeterminate.

Indeterminate though it may be, Addie only has one or two settings, that most people see. And this one isn't using his rank. "Sir," he murmurs around the cigarette. Puff puff. He's watching the stars, without really watching them, and dressed in offduties at the moment sans jacket. A brief glance is sent Captain-wards, but nothing asked of what she's writing.

It's usually bad sign when she uses rank, isn't it? Addie nods slightly as she's greeted in return. The pencil resumes its path across the page. There's a long moment before she speaks again. "Good smoke?"

"Not really," mumbles the Ensign. Conversational master, he is not. The cigarette is inspected, and a bit of ash flicked off. "Three packs left. That includes one that I bargained for-" He doesn't explain how. "-and one that I mooched." Another exhale, and his lips twist into a smirk. "Goin' to try quitting again, once I get my flight status back." The 'again', of course, implies that he tried it already.

With a flick of her fingers through her hair, Addie reaches up to tuck it into a loose ponytail, setting the small notebook and pencil on the seat beside her for a moment. "Might want to try before, or get better smokes so you enjoy it until you're forced cold turkey into a cockpit with cravings."

Micah chuckles, and lowers the cigarette for a moment so it's wisping smoke about his fingers. Turning away from the window, he wanders closer and eases into a chair opposite the Captain. "Used up all the good ones." A pause. He's watching her, at least until or unless she looks up. "Besides, when ah'm flyin', it's.. different. Maybe it's an outlet. A distraction. It'll be better when ah'm flyin', ah'll quit then."

Micah has a long moment to watch Addie all he likes. She finishes the page, handwriting small and neat. She tucks the pencil into the spine and slides the notebook closed over it, glancing up. "Better." She repeats just this one word without inflection, though as she tucks the notebook into her lap, hands folded over it, she continues with, "How are you now? After the planet."

Micah ducks his gaze, but doesn't drag yet from the cigarette; his wrist is draped across one knee, fingers toying with the thing absently. "Doin' fine." His tongue traces across his lower lip slowly. "Doin' just fine." It's edged with something that might be disappointment in someone else, but is anger, where this particular kid's concerned. Self-directed, it gives him a guarded look. "You, uh, seen the CAG lately?" Topic change time.

There's a long pause from Addie. Silence in the face of the squad leader usually means she's assessing something. In this case, since Micah has her eyes, it's probably him. She sits back slightly. "What is it you're not saying?" She isn't one to dance.

Micah doesn't make eye contact, though it's hard to say whether it implies any duplicitousness on his part. "You goin' to answer my question?" The cigarette is still left dangling between his fingers, smoking away.

Addie slides the notebook open, and puts pencil to paper again.

There isn't a sound from Micah. Should Addie glance up, he's got his teeth gritted together and is watching some spot off to her left, and turning the cigarette slowly between his fingers. End over end over end, like a pinwheel.

The light scratch of the pencil over paper is audible in the quiet that falls in the relatively empty Obs Deck. Addison finishes a few lines, and keeps writing. A silence persists between Ensign and Captain.

"I know you don't frakking like me, sir." It's murmured eventually, Micah's eyes still turned obliquely away from Addie and her pencil on paper scratchings. She probably makes it nearly to the end of the page, by the time he speaks.

Addie finish the page. "You need to get a handle on your anger, Micah." She glances up from the book only after she's finished a single line on the next page. The pencil pauses. "And realize that what I feel and what you see are two different things. And then you can get back on topic, and tell me what crawled up your ass and died."

Micah chuckles while Addie speaks, eyes giving a little roll like he's listening to his mother chastise him. "You know, I don't need this." The cigarette is dragged from once more, and flicked away. He crushes it with the toe of his boot before rising. "You let Savannah know.." Well, what? He clearly didn't think that through. Abruptly, he begins to prowl off.

"Ensign. Sit." Addie rises, sweeping up the ciggie butt as she goes. The Captain's tone is pretty clear here.

Even someone as occasionally thick as Micah, couldn't miss that. Jaw working from left to right to left again, he pauses in his tracks and resettles in a different chair. A little further away from Addie. Elbows resting on spread knees, it's an aggressive stance.

"Since you seem to be confused, let me take this opportunity to clear a few things up for you." The Captain slides her hands behind her back, clasping them with the notebook she carries with her off duty. "We are officers. Officers do not pout and behave like moody teenagers whose Mommy just told them they can't borrow the car this weekend. We are at war, and your bullshit attitude is gumming up the works. So either you spit it the frak our, or you stow that shit so deep I don't have to walk all over it." She steps up, invading the Ensigns personal space in a big way, and she leans over, preventing his escape by the presence of her body. "What is your problem?"

Murmured tautly, "I don't have a frakking problem. Sir." He begins moving to his feet when she gets in close, an instinctive response and a sure sign he's feeling boxed in by her. He has four inches and sixty odd pounds' worth of advantage, not that those tend to mean much to Addison Nikos.

The thing about the Nikos women is that no matter how small they are, they pull some pretty hefty credentials. Addison was raised with marines. Micah's posture is like fuel to that fire, and she takes the dominant position and holds it. "I can stand here all night, Ensign."

"If I wanted to have my frakking head shrinked, ah'd be seein' the frakking psychiatrist." Except he wouldn't. Because he's frakking the psychiatrist. Not that Addie knows that. "Right now, I want my godsdamned flight status back, I want a pack of smokes that doesn't taste like someone light a pile of shit on fire, and I want to be able to walk by that frakking memorial in sickbay without havin' the desire to put a fist in the face of everyone who left someone they loved behind." He backs off a little, slinking away to get some distance. "Ah'm fair sick of hearin' about it."

Addie remains where she is for a moment, dark eyes on the Ensign. She nods. "There's something we all want. For most people on this ship, it probably revolves around someone they lost. Some people talk. Some pray. You're running into walls. How many times have you been brigged?"

"Twice, sir, since I was assigned to the Genesis." Which implies, most certainly, that there have been other incidents on other ships and other commissions. He doesn't comment on the wanting, or the running into walls, and his odd eyes don't meet her darker ones.

"The CAG is a singular woman. She enjoys a different philosophy than I do. If you run into me, I will put you on the floor. If I think you're a danger to yourself or your squad, I will ride you until the behavior changes." Addison straightens. "Stop picking fights with marines. Bootnecks don't need any excuses. Every time you pull shit you give Major Gaelan something to fire back when I give him crap about his jarheads." She pauses, then adds, "You have Air Wing business, it can go through me. If it's not, use a wireless. I am not a secretary."

"Think that depends, sir, on whether Major Gaelan's marines can keep their shit together and stay the frak out of my face. But ah'll do my best." Surely she didn't expect a simple 'aye, sir' from him on this one. His chin lifts a touch, hands clasped behind his own back.

"This is't high school, Ensign. You will refrain from getting brigged because you can't keep it in your pants or you wont see flight status even after you're off light duty." Apparently the Engisn's response was not the one Addison was looking for. "You have a grievance, you take it to the gym or you kick it up the chain. Do not give me a reason to have a name plate made for your new desk."

"No, sir, it isn't," Micah agrees, hands cinching tighter together, "if this was high school, I wouldn't be refraining from knocking the teeth out of their motherfrakking faces." His eyes meet the Captain's for a moment; there's concession, though a sense that he doesn't quite yield. "And I don't have a grievance, sir, unless you want me to come up with one. Ah've kept my nose clean, ah've toed the line. If you've got a problem with the way ah'm flying, then spit it out, and ah'll fix it. Otherwise.." He waits, expectantly.

Addison is a relatively small woman. She's petite, as they say, short of stature and slight of frame. When she reaches up to grab the tank and tee combo Micah wears to slam the larger pilot against the bulkhead, it's a hard, fast gesture. And it's none too gentle. She lets his upper back and shoulders take the brunt of the force, but she follows him in close so he has to either stand still where he is, or go through her. "Your problem is your attitude, _Ensign_. Flying doesn't make up for that, particularly yours, which is mediocre at best."

Reed enters the Obs Deck, holding open the heavy hatch. His cane is used as he walks, and he takes in the room with a glance, noticing the pair of pilots. He takes in the joyful sight of Captain/Ensign/bulkhead sandwich making and narrows his eyes, planting the base of his cane on the hatch and giving it a hard shove, causing the hatch to slam closed with a harsh metallic 'THRUNK!' sound. He then begins to walk toward the two, cane being used to help propel himself.

Micah is, on the contrary, a fair bit of weight to be throwing around — despite not being huge — though nowhere near so quick on his feet. Addie has the element of surprise, and no doubt the edge in skill, and there's a -clank- as his shoulders hit bulkhead. Immediately, he's clamping a hand around her wrist and trying to pry her off him; if the frustration was muted before, it's an all-out fury now. She's obviously pushed one of his buttons. "You'd frakking know, wouldn't you? All the times we've gone up together, all the times you've deigned to give me the frakking time of day.." Growl, hiss. He ignores the sound of the Major approaching.

Oh, so that's what this is about. Addison is nothing if not a button pusher. She finds them, and then she slams those suckers, particularly if they're shiny and red. And here's Micah. Micah with abandonment issues. The clang of the hatch registers, and so does the approach by cane. There aren't a lot of people who would willingly walk toward Addison holding a man against a bulkhead, and even fewer who would do so loudly. She leans in, hissing, "You want to find a place in this wing, you will take it down a notch. You're on CAP with me until I say otherwise, Jailhouse." With that, Addison releases the larger pilot, and turns to face the incoming Brass. She can smell them. It's a gift. "Evening, sir."

Reed steps up, eyes still narrowed, as he looks between the pair of them as they break, and he lifts his head, looking between the pair of them, taking in a breath. Then, eyes traveling between the two of them, he speaks in a clear, precise tone that holds a soft, cool exterior, with a steel core. Like a lead pipe wrapped in neoprene.

"Attention on Deck."

Micah keeps his eyes on Addie. They may as well be alone on the observation deck right now, though he's surely aware of what's going on around them. Buttons, yeah, he has them. Big red buttons. Combine them with a woman like Addie, and it's like a house on fire. To his credit, he's not turning white or losing his tenuous grip on consciousness, with the Captain up in his face like that; he doesn't even spit off any more foul language when she pulls away. "Aye, sir." That's all. It's a growl, and there's venom in it, but it's the slow-killing type. His eyes snap to the source of that steely voice, then. There's a malingering intent to hurt and maim something, but he snaps off a salute and holds it. Silent.

Addie's swap from relaxed stance to attention is a thing of beauty. Her expression stills, posture straightens. You could compare that to a textbook, baby. But you shouldn't. Addie's much cuter than those drawings. Just appreciate the singular beauty. G'wan. Do it.

Reed looks to Addie, then Micah, looking at his salute. He moves closer to them, lifting return salute, to Micah, "The Captains response to the attention call is proper, Ensign. No salute needed." He notes almost absently, then looks at Micah, and in a voice of direct, distinct authority, "There a problem here, Ensign? Anything you wish me to know at the moment?" His tongue idily probes the inside of his cheek, as he looks at Micah, levelly and hard, cand in front of him, hands on the handle.

That not terribly pleasant sound coming from Micah? That's the sound of his teeth grinding together. It's a wonder he has any left, by now. "No, sir." His hand drops, his chin lifts a fraction, and he finds a singularly fascinating piece of bulkhead slightly to the left of Reed's face.

Reed nods to Micah, and he says, "Then give us the room." He then turns from Micah, to face Addie and holds silent till they're alone.

Addison remains at attention, eyes straight on until Reed speaks to her. When he does that, then she'll make eye contact. In the mean time, whilst they're waiting for Micah to scram, she just breathes.

It's like watching a bat out of hell. The Ensign salutes once more for good measure, and then slinks away swiftly. Yes, that's a chair that takes the brunt of his strident gait; it wibbles on two legs for a second, then topples over with a -thunk-.

Reed waits for the hatch to thump closed, and takes a breath. "Captain there's a lot about what I just saw that I really, deeply and purely, don't give a shit about." He says in an even tone. "So I'm not even going to step into it at all. I'm going to focus on what I saw that I need to take issue with."

Addie's eyes flick to Reed. She regards him for a silent moment as if waiting, before she plies him with a, "Sir." The dark eyed pilot falls silent again.

Reed nods, leaning on his cane for a moment. "Don't care about problems with the squadron, don't care about pilots not feeling loved in the cockpit, don't care about frustrations, or how you handle those problems in your arena of authority. I don't care, right up till I see something that can get a squadron leader in the brig for assault on a junior officer." He looks to Addie. "And before a courts marshall, that's exactly what I would be required to honestly say I witnessed." He tilts his head, tone still modified, and calm. "The Ensign has a history, and I know that. He's at the bottom of the totem pole, and that's also know. Known to everyone on the ship, in fact. But the facts are I saw him standing in a non threatening position and you took it physical. You have a lot farther to fall than him. Officially, I'm not about to condone that behavior, but his lack of willingness to get into it makes this just something I saw that nothing's going to come of. That's the official part."

Addie's opinion on the matter remains personal. Her eyes stay on Reed's, chin up, posture still perfect. She looks like she could hold that pose for hours. "I am aware of the angles, sir. You are entirely correct."

Reed nods, "Mmm." He says, "Now here's the unofficial part. If you have to do this kind of thing…" He shakes his head, "You don't frakking do it in the Obs deck. You do it when you're somewhere that you're not going to have anyone walk in on you to witness it. I know the Ensign is a loose cannon and has impulse control issues. Going physical with him is an invitation for brigging, either him, you or both. If you need to handle this like that, then by Hades woman, do it somewhere better than a public area used for relaxation. Drag him off somewhere, and always keep in mind that someone could walk in, see it and make it worse." He leans toward her, "Because if you're not puckered now, the thought of Regas coming in and seeing what I just saw should be enough to make you pucker. The Commander is far from someone who's willing to overlook anything regarding discipline." He straightens, "Personally, I am of the opinion that going for a a man when he's not ready and at an 'At Ease' posture is just cheap. And not worthy of someone in your position."

Addison nods slightly when Reed's offered his thoughts on the matter, and at an appropriate pause she replies, "Your opinion is noted, sir. The Air Wing is a peculiar beast, and I will improve my creative problem solving by doing a better job of relocating it to a more apropos local where possible. Sir."

Reed nods, "And that's pretty much all I'm going to say on the matter, Captain." He shrugs, "As you were." He then turns and moves to a chair.

Addie picks up the small notebook from where it fell beside one of the little upholstered chairs, and she tucks the pencil back into it. "Feeling better, Major?" She turns to follow the man's progress.

Reed levers himself down into the chair, with a sigh, looking at the viewport. "Better's such a relative term, Fender." He blinks then, looking at the stars, "Fender. You saw it, didn't you? you actually saw it, with your own eyes."

Addie nods. "I did." She shakes her head slightly. "It was… a thing to behold." She glances out the viewport, but her mind is back on that combat. She replays a particular part of it in her mind. "I always thought that stations was a bit of a clunky mess. Never would have imagined it could do something so spectacular, and quite beautiful."

Reed snorts, "She was beautiful, and she was only three jumps old. I didn't see it. I engineered it, but I was bleeding out on the deck of the Sula when it happened. No one else has seen it, just you pilots in the cockpits of that battle. No one's seen that.. ever. That was the first actual Transverse Hyperlight Implosion in the history of mankind."

"In that case, thanks." Addie actually smiles. "It was a pretty light show and put a dent in our enemy as well. Twofer, as Major Rue would say. You did a beautiful job."

Reed shrugs, "I perverted her. turned her into a doomsday weapon, and shoved her up the cylons toaster asses. All the while praying I set the field parameters right. If I was off, I would have killed everyone, starting with the Vipers." He shakes his head, "We don't have a god of Hyperlight mechanics to pray to for guidance in situations like that, so I just made one to Athena, for the wisdom to do it right. Because what happened to those toasters was horrific and I wouldn't have wanted to inflict that fate on a human."

Hm. Addie thinks on that a moment, her eyes on the stars, and in the end it comes down to this: "It's a good thing you weren't off." Reed knows Science Fu.

Reed nods, "Yeah, I heard that." He scratches the back of his head, rousing himself from the thoughts of what actually happened to those Cylons, "You keep your gun camera footage and telemetry recordings for review in the future, right?"

"We do." Addison nods and continues to stand not far off the view port, near the first row of seating. "If you'd like to see it, I'm sure the CAG wouldn't mind an inquiry." She speaks to Reed, who is seated in one of the chairs.

Reed nods, "I'll talk with her about it." He sits back in the chair, looking to the stars, "How's things otherwise?" He asks, a general question.

"Not bad all around. Deck is working hard to keep us afloat, we haven't lost… as many pilots as I thought we might." Addie slides her notebook to her other hand. "I'm off to the showers. Post CAP notes too a bit of a turn there." She nods to Reed. "Enjoy the peace while it lasts."

Reed inclines his head, "I'll try, Captain, good evening." He says as he looks out at the stars.

Addison nods, and turns to head for the hatch. "That it is." Exit stage left.

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