One Up
One Up - 19 BCH
Summary: Coffee flows in the Taproom. Craven finds an old friend. Zaharis suckers D'artanion into wearing Navy Recruit pins.
Date: 19 BCH (25 October 2008)
Related Logs: None
Players:
D'Artanion..Zaharis..Craven..Reed..Reighner..

Taproom Support Station PAS - Deck 1
19 BCH 2085 Souls


This large, open area was once a secondary observation platform. It has been taken over by quasi official forces and made into a drinking establishment known as the Taproom. A bar running along the inner wall is stocked with bottles and a solar cell has been taken apart, giving the back of the wall a high mirror finish, reflecting the bottles and the rest of the room. The outer wall is transparent, and unless a Condition status requires the lowering of the shielding, the glow of the stars and TER-745 is visible through the windows. Several tables and chairs are about the area and hidden speakers play music from some player hidden away. At the bar is a menu set up for anyone to read. <+detail here/menu>


Below, the planet has turned from evening to night, then started the slow rotation back toward day. Midnight has come and gone and the lights on the ship are at their lowest ebb, leaving only enough illumination for those poor souls still on duty to find their way. Or, perhaps, in some areas, they remain bright to accomodate the night shifters. The Taproom is open at all hours for all shifts, though it is less busy in the wee hours than otherwise. At the moment, the room is essentially deserted, with only a few scattered patrons here and there. Off to one side, D'Artanion had claimed a table. A mug of coffee sits at one elbow and she holds a handheld. There is clearly an image on the screen, but she is not looking at it anymore. Her gaze is lifted, unfocused and unseeing somewhere around the middle distance.

Zaharis is in his fatigues, much easier to move around in than the formal officer's blues. The outer shirt is unbuttoned enough to clearly signal 'off-duty' to anyone looking at him, and a cigarette is slid behind one ear. The late hour seems to have no meaning for the CMO, who heads for the bar with a familiar gesture to the tender, and an order given in a low voice.

The human eye is made to catch motion and that is what draws D'Artanion's attention away from whatever depths they were attempting to plumb. She blinks a couple of times, wipes the handheld to clear the screen and tucks it away into a pocket. Lifting her mug, she takes a sip and grimaces. Rising, she moves toward the bar to wait for the bartender's attention. Setting the mug on the counter, she pushes it toward the center then waits. Once your order has been placed, she smiles a bit, "Mind a warm up?"

The bartender grunts. Nicely. He turns to grab the coffeepot, refilling D'Artanion's cup on the counter with gusto. For Zaharis, the same, a mug of coffee to which the CMO adds neither milk nor sugar. He pulls the cigarette from his ear and snags a pack of matches lying nearby. "Staff Sergeant. How's the evening treating you?" He asks and then tilts his head to light up. His hands are slightly reddened, well-scrubbed.

D'Artanion grunts thanks to the bartender, amusement dancing in her gaze. The mug is accepted, lifted, and sipped, the unadulterated liquid almost scalding as it goes down. "Whoosh." Blinking to clear the heat inspired tears from her eyes, she turns to Zaharis, "Hey, Doc." Her glance takes in the condition of the man's hands and the incipiant smile dies, "Well enough, thanks. Um… I hope you are all scrubbed because of an experiment rather than someone availing themselves of your services?"

Zaharis smiles, tipping his head back to exhale the smoke towards the top row of bottles. "I told you I prefer patients to petri dishes. I was doing some coordination two decks up and bam, incoming internal bleeding. Only took four hours of surgery though. I was quite proud. Oh." He snaps his fingers, memory jogged. "I did remember to email your coordinator. Things are all set up."

D'Artanion nods, "I remember… But, you can't muck about inside people all the time. It robs you of perspective. Or something." The smile begins again, "Only four? Good job." Like the man needs or wants her approval, but at least she is aware of what the time frame means. She motions with her head back toward the table where she was sitting, "Join me? You did? That is excellent! Thank you. Was she suitably impressed? She tends to go obsequious and unctious when she wants to show approval."

Lost. That might be a good word to describe Craven at the moment. From the looks of him, it would appear he's either a new arrival, or he's just replaced his uniform, for it's spotless at the moemnt. Nary a wrinkle, button or patch out of place. Slipping into the Taproom, brows furled, the man takes a moment to look around, offering a soft hrm to himself as eyes begin to play over those that are present. "Well, I think I've certainly managed to get myself adequately confused." Is offered in a soft murmer to himself. With a soft shrug and a quick step, he begins to move further into the room, "May as well enjoy it, I suppose."

"I don't know, honestly. I saw the reply was two pages long and didn't bother to read it," Zaharis plucks up his cup, ashing the cigarette before he turns to see where she'd chosen to sit. "She sent an attachment of your coursework though, which I went over. Rigorous stuff." He sounds duly impressed, lifting the cup for a sip. The cross on Craven's brassard happens to catch his attention as he's turning around, and he comments without the faintest sense that he might be intruding on the man's private time. "Are you lost, PO? I commend your directional sense nonetheless."

D'Artanion chuckles, the sound light and airy. "Yeah, that's Ms. Davenport for you. Eleanor Davenport. Elly to her friends. But, do not for one moment, oh hapless student, think that you are a friend." She winks, then moves a step or so toward that table before the CMO notes the new arrival. Turning, she peers around him to look at Craven. She blinks twice, "Joran?" Stepping back toward the bar, she looks after Craven, then tilts her gaze up to focus on Zaharis, "Weird. He looks just like a kid I grew up with. Only… Older."

Zaharis catches Craven's attention first and whether by reflex or respect, he comes to attention and offers a quick salute. When his hand lowers, a sheepish smile begins to curve his lips upwards as he nods his head, "I'm afraid so sir. New Medic for the Genesis. Asked some deckhand for some directions and they led me here. Figure it must be some 'new guy' practical joke. Funny, none the le…" It's then that D'Artanion catches his attention and his worlds falter. He blinks once. Then again, followed by a shake of his head, "Amalina? No. Can't be."

Zaharis sticks the cigarette into his mouth rather than return the salute. "At ease, PO. I refuse to be saluted in a bar. New medic, is it? No wonder I don't recognise your face." Though apparently someone does. He looks between the two enlisted with mild amusement.

D'Artanion says, "Shit." The word is softly spoken, though not quite a whisper. "Stitch…?" A grin blooms and she turns to Zaharis, "Stitch was in my class at medical school. And we knew each other in high school. A long time ago… seems like. He graduated with top honors, if I remember rightly." Motioning the man closer, she turns to Craven, "Doc here is the CMO. He's going to help me finish the M.D." She looks Craven over, then shakes her head, "Though… I'm going to have to make up something about you to explain why you didn't go Marines, you know. Something vile…" Laughter touches her tone and she half steps back to keep away from imagined retaliation from either of the two men. "It's required."

"Blondie?" And for a moment, Joran seems stunned. A quick squint and then he's shaking his head, lips curving upwards into a full smile as he offers a soft laugh before taking a few steps closer. "It's been far too long since I've seen you. God, it's a sight for sore eyes." A shift of his attention towards Zaharis and he offers another nod, "The CMO? Well, seems like that makes you my boss, sir. Suppose you wouldn't forget that I said I was lost? Can't have you thinking I can't find my way around." A jest no doubt, for that smile doesn't falter. A look back to D and he chuckles softly, "Bah. Marines. You know I was never any good in a fight. Or with a weapon. More liable to hurt myself then an enemy."

Zaharis snorts. "Navigation is what CiC's for. Lost without them, dead without us. It's an even trade." He sits down, regardless of whether the other two do, pulling a little tray closer for the column of ash building up on the end of his cigarette. "Stitch, huh? Do you have an actual name or has it been lost to the solar winds and human resources filing cabinets?"

Laughter breaks free for a moment or two, the sound rising to flutter through the room like butterflies released from some arcane confinement. She turns and drops into a chair at Zaharis' table. Sipping her coffee, D'Artanion nods, "Yeah, well. We'll fix that now that you're here. I'll get Taylor and we'll teach you a thing or three. If you want to learn…" Her gaze flashes to Crevan's eyes, then turns to Zaharis. For a moment it seems as though she'll divulge the secret of Craven's name, but then sits back and lets the man speak for himself.

The question that is posed to him catches his attention and Craven looks down at his chest for a moment, "Damnit. They really need to put name tags on these things. With full names. That way, I wouldn't forget." When his gaze lifts, he shifts it back over towards Zaharis and offers a hand, "But in all seriousness, Joran Craven, sir. Fraid I've known Blondie here for awhile, so we tend to forget names." Stealing a glance in her direction, he nods, "Learn? Sure. Probably a good thing to do. Just make sure Taylor takes it easy on me." A shadow of a wink and he's looking baco to Zaharis.

"I could have glanced at your dogtags," Zaharis sits up enough to shake Craven's hand. "But I prefer to let a man introduce himself. Captain Jesse Zaharis. Welcome aboard, Craven." He smirks at D'artanion, letting go of Craven's hand and picking up his cigarette again. "Letting Taylor loose on him, already? Trying to get some extra practice setting broken noses?"

D'Artanion says, "Oh, frak, that's right. You haven't seen Taylor yet. He's gotten ginormous." Her expression is momentarily thoughtful, then that fades and she winks at Zaharis, "Seems appropriate, don'tcha think?" One foot pushes the chair near Craven out and she motions toward the bar, "Get something to drink and cop a squat? And, no way. I can't dictate what that man does anymore than you can. No, for that, I've gotta find out the name of the woman he keeps making googly eyes at." A wink and she returns her gaze to Zaharis. "Sorry, Doc. Seems like old home's week. Didn't expect to run into so much of my past here. It's surreal.""

"Please to meet you, Captain." When the chair is pushed out, he gladly accepts and slips in so that he can take a seat on it. Shifting his gaze back over towards D, he arches a brow upwards slightly and cants his head to the side, "Ginormous? Uh oh. I don't like the sound of that. I forsee pain. Lots of pain." A grin now and he looks back over towards Zaharis, "By the sounds of this, should I just get a perscription for some meds now and have a chart prepared for the inevitable?" And then, it's back towards D to offer a soft chuckle, "Well, I gotta admit … didn't expect to run into you. Nice change though. Good to see you again."

Zaharis exhales a last breath of smoke and stubs out the cigarette, kicking back now with his coffee. "If you took it upon yourself to be so proactive," he tells Craven with a smirk, "I'd be sure to note it prominently on your commendation record. Granted, I'd prefer something like 'Ran bravely into a burning house to save babies', but I can deal."

D'Artanion tilts her head a little and half smiles, "It's good to see you, too, Stitch." Lifting the mug, she takes a sip, then grins at Zaharis, "Don't give 'im ideas, Doc. See… He served with Taylor and me as part of the volunteer firefighter's in college. Stitch and I did the medical drill and Taylor went into the buildings. Still… Stitch was worse than some of the firefighters, in a way." Dun dun duuuuun… Story time. She pauses to lift the mug, eyes bright. Before she can take a sip, she turns back to Craven, "So, was that you or Taylor who dove out of the second story window when the Sorority burned?"

Withdraws an imaginary notebook from an imaginary pocket, complete with imaginary pen. Taking imaginary notes, he looks up towards Zaharis and offers a smile, "Noted. Quote: "Ran into burning building to save babies. Sustained multiple broken bones and contusions, but avoided any burns'." A flicker of a grin and he's looking over towards D, long enough to offer a soft groan, "Ugh. You can't be going around telling people stories, Blondie. And that was me who dove out the window. Little overzelous at the time. Don't think Taylor was there that year, though."

"Well done," Zaharis commends Craven, dramatically lifting the coffee cup in toast. He downs a few swallows of the bitter stuff, slouching comfortably and stretching out his legs as the two swap college tales. "So where did we get you from, Craven?"

D'Artanion nods, "Oh, right. Dislocated shoulder, stressed ligaments and strained back." She winks, then sits back a bit to listen to the reply. Or, she tries to. Honest. "See…? There's this stork, right? And when the good mommies and daddies light prayer strips, the smoke is carried to the stork and it brings them a baby to raise." She winks at Craven, then; finally, shuts up to let the man talk.

Another groan to D as she outlines the injuries that Craven found himself with and he offers a quick shake of his head, "Not one of my finer moments or choices. But hey, it was good for a laugh after the fact. A few free drinks." A grin and he's shifting his gaze over towards Zaharis, "Came from the Alara, one of our smaller ships. Cozy little vessel and I enjoy my time there, but needed a change of pace. Something with a little more life to it. Hardly had any work aboard her. In a way, it got pretty limiting."

"Alara," Zaharis' dark eyes squint as he searches his memory. "Haven't heard of her. Battlestar or Lunar class?" He motions with a hand between the two of them, addressing both. "Served on the same ship as well, you two?"

D'Artanion considers adding the number of dates the man got from the sorority girls but decides to be merciful. Or… she'll save them to tease him with later. Old friends are such fun, aren't they? Lifting the mug, D'Artanion shakes her head, "No… I haven't seen Stitch in an age and a half. Not since he graduated and left school. Seems like forever ago." For a moment, her gaze flashes back to that middle distance she was contemplating earlier and her smile vanishes. The look does not linger, however, and she drops her gaze to her coffee. Lifting it, she finishes what is in the mug, then turns to Zaharis, "Want a refill? I'll get 'em."

"Lunar. And no, unfortunately we didn't." A soft laugh and Craven motions to D'Artanion, "As she said, I havn't seen her in ages. Sorta got seperated when I finished school and enlisted. Kept in touch, off and on, which was good. Nice to know someone around here. Though, I can see I'm going to have to threaten her with stories of her childhood." The smile lingers for another moment before a touch of concern touches his eyes at he sudden change in her expresion. A softening of his smile and his words are a touch quieter, "I'll take one, if you don't mind, Blondie." Letting his gaze rest there for a moment, he then looks back over towards Zaharis, "So, how long have you been stationed here?"

Zaharis holds the mug up to D'artanion. "Tell the Hulk to throw a splash of whiskey in there. If you can find a dash of chocolate sauce I'll trade rank pins with you for the night." He sits back, looking back at Craven. "On the Genesis? About six months now. Just long enough to be able to prented I know where things are. How long you been serving the Fleet?" Question tossed back.

D'Artanion collects Zaharis' mug and nods, "Done and done, Doc." She turns toward the bar, but pauses to look down at Craven, "Not a problem." Her gaze remains a moment more, then D'Artanion walks over to the bar. The room is essentially empty at this time of night, so the bartender is a bit on the bored side. Leaning over, she explains in low tones what is needed and why. The 'tender glances from the woman in front of him and the doctor at the table. His laughter is one of those low, rumbling sorts that are startling because they are so rarely heard. Turning, he sets about filling the order.

There's a final flash of a soft smile to D and what could be a comforting nod of his head before he returns his gaze back over towards Zaharis. The question draws him to a silence for a moment as he ponders it before offering a soft chuckle, "Yeesh. Eleven years now, I think. Or Ten years and too many months for it not to be considered eleven years. Gods. Time seems to be going way to fast and ya don't realize it until questions like that." Adjusting in the chair, Craven gets comfortable as hands clasp together on his stomach, "So, you transfer to the Genesis to fill the CMO posting? Or get that after you'd been here for a couple of months?"

Zaharis smirks at the time comment. "No, the position came pre-installed with the transfer. She's a good star, the Genesis. Hell of a logistics department. Don't think I've seen so much as a fork missing in six months." His attention drifts back to D'artanion, suspiciously. "She's getting chummy over there. This could be trouble."

Finally the bartender returns with three mugs. D'Artanion lifts one and takes a sip. "Perfect. Thanks." Collecting the three, she walks back over from the bar to the table. Reclaiming her seat, she passes out the mugs. Coffee, check. Whiskey. Check. Chocolate sauce? Oh, yeah. And… to top it off…? Whipped cream… Yum. Lifting her hand, D'Artanion removes her 'Staff Sergeant' pips and places them on the table. Leaning forward, she pushes them toward Zaharis. "Do I get the pay raise too? Even for a couple of hours it would make a significant improvement in my pay…" Sitting up again, she lifts the mug in a mock salute to the bartender, then licks off some of the whipped cream.

Shifting his gaze back over towards the 'tender and D'Artanion, Craven gives a quick nod of his head, "Trouble? That's probably a big understatement, sir. If I had to guess, you've become the target of her plotting. I wouldn't worry though. She won't hurt you … much." He gives a teasing smile towards Zaharis and when D returns with the mugs, Craven can't help but offer a soft laugh, "Oh god. There's no way she can outrank me. Not even for a couple of hours. That just wouldn't be fair."

Zaharis' mouth forms a tense, appreciative 'oooh' shape without any sound. He picks up the mug and gives it a tentative sniff before sipping, slowly. "Oh, man. Best thing I've had all week that didn't need condoms." He shakes his head, pretending to wince as he reaches out and scoops up her pins. Then he shifts in his seat, digging into his fatigues pocket and coming up with…Naval Recruit pips. Plunking them on the table in front of her, he winks at D'art. "I didn't say trade -my- rank pins."

D'Artanion reaches over to ruffle Craven's hair, "Don't sweat it, Stitch. I won't make you swab the deck or anyth…" And then Zaharis puts the pips down. She stares at them for a moment, then sight, "Damnit!" Picking up the pips, she shakes her head, but does put them on. An agreement is an agreement, even if the Doc has now become fair game. Oh, yes. It is on. Turning to the man, she smiles sweetly, "Oh. Rhea said to say hello. She claims that you are a nice guy. Poor deluded woman."

The comment about the condoms is lost to Craven as Zaharis sets the pips down and Craven laughs again, this time offering a quick shake of his head, "Oh, I like the way you think, sir. Very nicely played and I believe this round goes to you." He shifts his gaze over towards D, lips curling upwards into a grin as he cants his head ever so slightly to one side, "What was that about swabbing the decks?" Returning his gaze to Zaharis, the grin remains fixated for the moment, "I havn't seen the Medical Bay yet, but I assume all the cabinets could use some cataloging and tidying up?" Back to D and he offers a wink before lifting a hand to waggle a finger at her, "Not often I see you lose like that, Blondie."

Reed comes in from Passageway.
Reed has arrived.

Zaharis fiddles with his collar, keeping up his end of things by changing out his own pips. Pinning new metal into place, he picks up his doctored coffee and kicks back, raising the mug. "I am a nice guy. Play me in triad. You'll see." He grins, taking a sip of coffee before looking at Craven with a smirk. "Your commendation sheet's getting longer, PO. Keep it up, you're making a man happy." The three are sitting drinking various brews of coffee. Zaharis' sports a mountain of whipped cream. And for some reason he's wearing marine Staff Sergeant pips, while D'Artanion is wearing…naval recruit ones.

Reed moves into the Taproom, his duty uniform unbuttoned so the flap of his breast is down, signaling off duty status. He looks about and moves to the bar, nodding to the bartender. He looks over and blinks briefly at the others down the bar, smirking slightly.

D'Artanion shrugs at Craven's comment, "It happens… I didn't know what I was up against. I know now and things will be different." She nods, as though that settles things. Yes, she is wearing navel recruit pips, and is trying to make the best of it. At the list of things to do, her brows rise, and she shakes her head, "Oh, you've done it now, Stitch… Remember that training we'd planned?" She motions to Zaharis with her head, "Best go ahead and do that prep work so Doc'll know who it is he's workin' on." As for the Doc? She lifts her mug of coffee and begins plotting revenge.

Another flash of a grin at Zaharis and Craven shrugs his shoulders, ever so slightly, "What can I say, Si.. Sarge, I know how to weave myself in without getting caught up in it." Then the grin fades and he offers a soft 'Uh Oh' as his gaze settles back upon D'Artanion. A hand lifts and he offers her another waggle of a finger, "You would dare, Blondie. Not to your old friend, Stitch. Whom you havn't seen in years." A pause, followed by a soft groan, "Wait .. who am I kidding. I'm done for." The imaginary notebook is withdraw once more and written in, "Quote: "Injuried while attempting to rescue down pilot for burning wreckage of a fighter perched dangerously atop a small cliff. Sustained numerous lacerations and broken bones"."

Reed takes his drink, something red with ice in a glass normally used for scotch. He takes a sip and nods to the bartender, looking over to the group, looking between them, smiling faintly as he watches, seeming amused, and not quite up to speed.

Zaharis just continues looking smug. He gives D'artanion a challenging raise and lower of brows, then glances over as he spots someone else moving around. "Carter. Props, your bar makes a good creme. How's the place treating you today?" A glance back at Craven and he laughs under his breath.

D'Artanion nods slowly, "Yeah. I would." She watches the man make imaginary notations and then reaches over to point to the imaginary notebook, "You forgot to add: 'Without sustaining any burns'." A nod and she leans back once more. Coffee is lifted and she takes a sip, then winks at Zaharis as he issues the challenge. She bounces one eyebrow twice in reply or acknowlegement. Licking her lips, she looks over as Reed enters. Once more the mantra of Reed's reading floats through her head, and she stops it before it gets to Reed redundantly reading, for he is the alliteration king here. A lift of her head and she motions to one of the other empty chairs, "Join us?"

The new arrival is offered a glance from Craven, followed by a quick nod before he returns his eyes to D'Artanion as she points to the imaginary notebook. He mimics writing something and nods his thanks, "Right. Can't forget that." Content with the joke, he mimes placing the notebook back into his pocket before offering her a quick grin, "Well then, I'll just have to prepare for the worst, it would seem." Shifting his gaze to Zaharis, the Captain is given a quick smile, "Remind me, sir, never to challange a Marine. Especially one who I grew up with and who knows far too much about my childhood."

Reed nods to D'Artanion, "Thank you." He moves to join them, taking a seat and settling himself and his drink down, he looks to Zaharis. "It's been treating me alright, um, Sergeant." He says after a glance to his pins, "Well, we try to please here on the PAS, you know." He looks to Craven, "Oh dear, someone has all the dirt on you for your whole life? Give up now, you're doomed."

Reighner has arrived.

"I don't see any Marine," Zaharis declares, tipping his chin towards D'artanion. "This one here's a sailor. Finally realised the right way to go, bless her heart." He puts his cup down, sliding a cigarette from his pack and flicking his lighter to life. Reed's comment to him gets a serene smile, then with a -hint- more seriousness he says, "Pencil me in tomorrow, Major? I've got some paperwork to dump on you, initial coordination push is complete. We're in good shape." .

With tired, almost sallow-looking eyes, Reighner reaches the bar. He hooks plants his elbows on it as if nothing else is keeping him up. "Fish and chips, please. Extra chips. Extra." The bartender gives him a strange look and writes down the order.

D'Artanion reaches into her web belt and removes what looks like a compact. Opening it, she reveals a smallish round mirror which she holds up in front of Zaharis, "There's the Marine, Marine." Closing it again, she turns to Craven and nods toward Reed, "He's right. You are doomed. Doooomed, I say. Doomy doomy doom…" Inhaling, she holds it for a moment, then chuckles, "But, I won't sing the doom song, now. It's too long." Shaking her head, she lifts the back of her hand to her forehead, all mock dispair and mimiced Tauron accent, "I don't know what has come over me. To have abandoned my Marines for the dubious benefit of a Naval career. Especially when it isn't a lateral transfer. What ever shall I do? How will I pay the rent?"

A soft laugh is offered to Reed and Craven shakes his head ever so slightly, "No, not my whole life, but enough parts of it to really embarass me and hold things against me." This earns D'Artharion his attention as he offers a mock glare before shadowing a wink to her, "But see, I'm far too nice for her to do anything of the sort. And she knows that if she did, I'd just have to get my revenge, and I can plot and plan for weeks before doing something." Ahh, old childhood games, apparently coming to life once more. His mug is lifted to his lips, a small sip of the coffee taken before it's lowered back down, "Well, it's good that you've seen the error of your ways, Blondie. Bought time. As for the rent, don't worry about it. I've got a comfortable floor you can sleep on in the Medical Bay. If you're really good, you can sleep on one of the beds there."

Reed looks at Craven and leans to Dart, "Don't sleep on the beds in there, you'll wake up in one of the Morgue freezers." He nods sagely, and looks over, doubletaking, "Speaking of which, it's not often something crawls out of those freezers and comes here ordering fish and chips, Reighner, you look exausted, I remember sleeping sometimes as a Captain, haven't you gotten to that part yet?"

Zaharis smirks at D'artanion, splaying a hand in front of him to block his view of himself in the mirror. "The horror, keep it away, woman." He a drag off his cigarette, glancing at Reed again, but since no answer's come about a meeting he twists a bit to look over at the newcomer. "Ahhh, there's the new Captain. We set up an ambush down here last night, but you avoided like a pro."

D'Artanion chuckles and taunts Zaharis with the mirror a little more before snapping it closed and putting it away again. "Going to start carrying a small camera…" She looks up at Craven and shakes a fist at the man, "Watch it, Stitch. You're just adding up the beatings due you." Turning to Reed, she widens her eyes in mock horror, "So that is what happens to the patients." Turning to Zaharis, she adds, "Patients can't recover in the cold of the morgue. Try putting them somewhere warmer. I mean… I know that you are trying to be all tough now that you have embrassed your newly discovered Marine nature, but come on… The Marines are not that brutal." Her gaze flickers to Reighner and she lifts a mug of coffee, then gestures to another empty chair at their table.

Casting a quick look over towards Reighner, Craven offers a quick nod of his head before looking back over towards Reed, "Hey now, don't be giving all our secrets away. Gonna have to change up tactics and tricks and come up with something new, now." A grin and he's looking back over towards D'Artanion, offering a quick waggle of his brows, "If it'll make you feel better, Blondie, I'll let you take me to the gym sometime and put a beating on me. Maybe I'll surprise you. And myself. And knock you out." A quirk of his lips and it's apparent he knows that won't happen, "That would happen by my tripping over my own feet and falling into you, with my head hitting yours just right. Not pretty, but it would work."

Funnily, Reighner was just looking in D'Artanion's direction. He squints, trying to figure out if he knows her, then scans the other occupants. "To go," he tells the bartender as he lays down some bills. Stuffing his wallet into his pants, he starts walking over.

Reed watches Reighner approaching, moving out a chair for him before looking to Zaharis, "Send me a call and I'll be available for the paperwork, just wheelbarrow it in and we'll go through it." He looks to Craven, "I'm sure you've got enough tricks to handle the loss of one." He sips his drink and says to Dart. "your friend-" with this a nod back to Craven, "just missed the tournament, unfortunate. We'll have to mark off a bout for you two next time."

"Yeah, you do that…-recruit-." Zaharis replies to D'artanion's camera comment. "And not brutal, my spectacularly ill-fitting left boot. I was enlisted once, I remember very clearly who dealt out the harsher beatings at the end of the day." He shakes a finger at her, then glances back up at Reighner's approach. "Cap. Congratulations on the new hat. That admitting permission went through yesterday, you should be clear over here." A nod given to Reed at the confirmation. Work follows them everywhere.

Reighner nods to Zaharis. "Thanks. Perfect." He takes the offered seat and yawns, scratching the back of his head and messing up his hair. Looks very much the scatterbrained scientist today. Scanning their drinks, he asks, "You guys all have the night shift or something?"

D'Artanion says, "Oh, I won't do it tonight, /Sarge/." Now that she is not being overly silly, her tone is pure Picon. She chuckles a bit, "Ah, that isn't so bad.." Her eyes gleam suddenly with inspiration and she touches the tip of her tongue to her lower lip. When Zaharis shakes his finger at her, she laughs, but lifts two fingers to her brow, "Right, sir. Sorry, Sarge." Looking up as Reighner gets closer, she nods at the man, "Hey, Cap. Congrats." Looking to Reed, then she grins, "Oh, do? And put him down for at least one with Taylor. Thanks." A nod and she looks back to Craven, "See? Mock not, lest ye be mocked.""

A nod to Reed and Craven chuckles softly, "True, I do have a few more that I can fall back on." He casts a glance over towards Reighner a grin touching his lips before looking over towards Zaharis, "Couldn't tell ya what shift I have. Just arrived on the Genesis. I didn't get lost and wind up here by mistake. Nope." Looking now, between D'Artanion and Reed, he offers another soft groan before shaking his head ever so sligtly, "No beatings. My delicate fingers are made for stitching and patching, not for fighting. Plus, I don't think Blondie here .." He motions towards D, "wants to be embarassed by a Navy Medic."

Reed looks to Reighner, "Not me, I'm off duty for the day." He says, his duty shirt open showing he's off duty. He raises his glass, taking a sip of his normal red iced drink. Looking to Dart, he quirks a brow, "Match him against Taylor? That earlier statement about marines not being that brutal? You're undermining it." He looks to Craven, "Well welcome to the project, PO. This is our little Top Secret clearance corner of space here."

Zaharis grins at D'artanion, then shakes his head to Reighner. "Gave up on the concept of 'shift' about a decade ago, Matt. Even on-duty and off-duty lose their meaning in these shoes." His handheld is still attached to his belt and on, despite the informal open collar of his duty shirt. "I don't keep a pillow and gurney in the supply closet up in Sickbay for nothing. But sometimes…" He waves a hand. "You've just got to relax." He looks back at Craven, touching his fingertips to his temples like a psychic. "Have the feeling your paperwork's going across my desk as we speak, PO. Don't you worry."

Reighner smirks at the answers. "Do I know you guys?" he asks D'Artanion and Craven. "I'm Matt." He extends his hand to both of them, half-rising from his chair.

D'Artanion turns to Reighner and shakes her head, "Nah. I'm a day-shifter so far. Just…" She looks down at the mug and her expression does that flip once more. For an instant, the smile is gone and her gaze is lost somewhere in the middle distance. It is back in under a heartbeat, though and she smiles at the man, "Came down here to relax a bit." Lifting at the offer, she accepts his hand. The shake is brief, though firm enough without going overboard, "Amalina D'Artanion. Staff Serteant in my real life, this super hero alter ego is a Naval Recruit." She nods once, then reclaims her seat, "Nice to meet you." Turning to Reed, she shrugs, "Now, now… Stitch here's known Taylor almost longer than he's known me. It'll be like old home week. Promise. Though that doesn't mean that Taylor'll go easy on him, mind. So, see? It isn't brutal. Besides… Taylor's not a Marine. More's the pity." She winks a little, then turns an innocent look to Zaharis for a moment. Innocent. And attentative.

Rising from his spot, Craven accepts the extended hand from Reighner and offers a brief, but firm hand shake. "Joran Craven. Otherwise known as Stitch. Nice to meet you." Reclaiming his seat, he casts a glance over to Zaharis and laughs softly, "Amazing powers you have there, Sarge. If you'd like, I can give you my imaginary pen and you can imaginary make some notes on those commendations." A jest from earlier. At the mention of pairing with Taylor, he looks back and forth between Reed and D'Artanion again, laughing softly, "Yikes. I just arrive and I think I need to start finding places to hide. Heck, I can't go turning down a bout challange. That just wouldn't look good." Settling his gaze on Reed, he smiles now, "And ya, I've had the unfor .. er fortunate pleasure of knowing Blondie and Taylor for awhile." A steal of a glance back to D and a quick smile to show he's teasing.

Reed nods to Craven, and Dart, quiet while the introductions go flying about, listening with some interest. He chuckles as Craven admits to knowing Taylor and Dart. "Well, good for you. At least there's a definite advantage to having good friends who are skilled in medicine." He looks to Zaharis, "Four people in Medical at this table, I feel healthier just being here." He sips his drink.

Zaharis makes a point of whistling a little tune when D'artanion looks at him. Which is interrupted by his handheld vibrating at his hip. He unhooks it and the little screen glows briefly while he reads. Brown eyes flicker upwards, making little jumps left to right as though he were reading something in front of him before he looks down again, tapping a lengthy response with his thumb. "Triglycerides wouldn't be elevated…" Reasoning to himself under his breath, the screen goes dark again once he's finished, and he picks up the cigarette he'd near forgotten about. He smirks at Craven. "Just be sure and imaginary report in to your imaginary shift. 8am, come on up to Sickbay and we'll fix you right up." A chuckle to Reed and he shrugs. "Guess you're guaranteed to walk out of here in one piece, whether you want to or not."

Reighner watches the bartender in the distance, waiting for his order, but is pulled back by Reed's comment. "Medical, huh? You must be a medic, then." He points to D'Artanion, then over to Craven. "What about you?"

D'Artanion snickers at the tune, her gaze flashing to Zaharis for a moment before returning to Reed, "Good friends? Mmmmm…" Okay, she stops teasing, if only for a moment, "Yeah. He's a good friend. Even though he up and joined the wrong branch of the military." She turns a nod to Reighner, "Yeah. Combat Medic. Best there is." She lets that hang for a moment before adding, sotto vocce, "Or. Best in the room, at any rate." Her gaze flickers to Craven then and she shakes her head, "Oh, don't bother trying to hide… I've only been here a few days, but I know people who know people. There ain't no place you can hide that I can't find you." Okay, so the teasing is back.

A shift of his gaze over towards Reighner and Craven laughs ever so softly, "Navy Medic." He raises a hand and points to D before grinning, "And I'm better then her at stitching people up. Tiss why I'm in the Navy. See, I was too good to be a Combat Medic." A shadow of a glance to D and he grins slightly before offering a wink, "Oh, I can hide quite well. Trust me on that one. I'll find some little nook in the wall and blend right in." To Zaharis, "Right. Imaginary shift at 8 am. Got it." Then, it's back over towards Reed and another laugh is offered, "Hey, I can patch myself up if need be. Pretty good at that, but I suppose I could let D use her meager knowledge to help out." He rises from his seat and takes a step away from her before shifting his attention to her, "Remember, no swatting. I think there's a rule about a twenty four hour grace period before you can beat on the new guy."

Zaharis grins a little, enjoying the rhythm of the banter going on. Until the vibration of the handheld interrupts again. He stubs out his cigarette after a last drag and pulls the computer back in hand, glancing at it. His expression doesn't change, a quick message tapped and the handheld put away. "I should get back and have a look at this." His fingers push his collar up, unpinning the Marine pips and waving them towards D'artanion. "Recruit. Missing the good life yet?"

Reed smirks, looking to Reighner,"See? Medical people everywhere, drinking coffee must seem like Med School." He looks to Dart, nodding, "That's good." He takes a sip of his drink setting it back down and stretching slightly a few pops coming from various joints. Looking to Zaharis he nods, "See you later then."

"We go to what we know," Reighner replies to Reed, smirking. "I'll walk out with you," he says to Zaharis. "Looks like my food's ready." He pushes himself up to standing and nods to the pair of medics. "Nice meeting you folks. Hopefully we won't see each other for business."

D'Artanion shakes her head, "You know what they say about a barrister who represents himself? Same can be said for a doc who treats his own wounds." She watches Craven rise, then almost chokes on a sip of coffee, "Swat? I don't swat… Unless it's insects." She lets the rest go as Zaharis and Reighner both rise, "Good to have met you, Reighner." More softly, "So say we all." Then, it is her turn to rise and turn toward Zaharis. Lifting a hand, she removes the naval recruit pips and holds them in one hand as the other is extended, "If you please." There is a sparkle in her eyes, though she affects an air of solemnity, "A trade."

Zaharis reliquishes the Staff Sergeant pins with a gracious gesture, dipping into his front pocket for the proper Captain's metal and returning them to their place at his collar. The recruit's pins get tucked away somewhere and he tosses off a mock salute towards the room. "Gentlemen, Marine. Lovely evening." Turning back to Reighner he gestures to the door. "After you, Matt."

A nod to Reighner and Craven smiles, "Pleasure meeting you." Then, it's to Zaharis and the motions are repeated, "Pleasure Cap. I'll see you in the morning, bright and early." And finally, it's back over towards D'Artanion, to whom Craven offers a soft grin before he reclaims his lost space and seats himself back down next to her, "Aww, shucks. Was rather enjoying out ranking you for the short period that I did. Guess, that's a dream that I'll just keep having to have." Leaning back, his mug is reclaimed and the last of the coffee is drained from within before he sets it aside. Looking over towards Reed, he cants his head ever so slightly to the side, "And you sir? What do you do here?"

Reed nods to Zaharis and Reighner, "Doctors, be well." He lifts his glass in salute to them as they depart, then takes a drink, looking to Craven, "Me? Oh, I'm just the Station CO." He smiles, "So I'm overseeing the construction at the moment, mostly. I get my own command, the catch is I have to build it."

Reighner grabs his to-go order on the way out. "You said something about triglycerides?" he asks Zaharis as the pair depart.

Zaharis strides on out, no doubt talking Reighner's ear off about the problem on the way…

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