Religion and Fries
Religion and Fries
Summary: Greje and Ramiro discuss religion; Crow and Roz share some Fries.
Date: 1 ACH (11/14/2008)
Related Logs: None


Taproom Support Station PAS - Deck 1

1 ACH 2235 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>

Contents: Adele Greje Ramiro Roz Zaharis Crabby the Parrot Triad

Deck Wireless 632

Quick Glance

Lieutenant JG Peyton Eustacia "Roz" Rozalkis ("Fireeater")

23 year old tanned female with light brown hair and vibrant blue eyes. 5'4". 125.

Lance Cpl Dane Falcus Ramiro

24 year old caucasian male with dusty brown hair and green eyes. 5'10. 152lbs.

Adele Pike

33 year old creamy female with strawberry-blonde hair and grey eyes. 5'10". 135lbs.

Lieutenant Greje Diomed Karthasi

27 year old pale female with wheat blonde hair and pale green eyes. 5'7". 125lbs.

Captain Jesse Zaharis

36 year old fair male with dark brown hair and dark brown eyes. 5'10". 165.

Greje smiles. "That's what I need, right now," she tells Adele. "I've just been staring at it for too long." As the dark smudges under her eyes attest. "I can't see my own typographical errors anymore," she sighs, exhaling from the corner of her mouth to blow a wavy lock up off of her face at the same time. Definitely time for a haircut, soon. She chuckles at Zaharis, "It's also a handy check against hubris to see those rejection letters come rolling in. Nothing better to make you feel your place in the universe. Gnothi seauton!" she recites the inscription from Apollo's third temple in Old Delphi. "I'm still convinced that's the only reason the Gemenese fundamentalists still bother to send anything in." She chuckles.

Crabby squawks out, "Alert Stations! Alert Stations!"

"Then it's a win-win situation," Adele muses in a vaguely sardonic manner, "The publishers get their - wrist excersizes in, and we all get reminded of our own insignificance in the universe." She flashes a rueful smirk, lifting her beer to finish it off. "Drop it by lab one, Greje. If I'm not there, just put it in my box. A. Pike." She glances down at her sandwich, which has about two bites taken out of it, then up at Zaharis. "Want to scavenge?" Her eyes alight upon Ramiro as he approaches, then they shift back to the CMO.

Ordering ice water from the bartender and putting in an order for a burger to be cooked, Ramiro nearly jumps as the parrot nearby squawks out about 'Alert Stations'. Blinking, he shakes his head and gives the parrot a daring look as he sips from the glass. Convinced that he and the parrot have had a good talking-to, he looks to Greje at the table. "Pardon me, if you don't mind, I couldn't help but overhear. Are you submitting a thesis to Gemenon?"

Roz raises the back of her hand to cut off a half yawn as she enters the taproom. Her gaze shifts over to the bar and the parrot nearby, having heard something of a squawk or so she thought. "Aren't you the pretty boy," glancing to Ramiro and then the bird as she takes a place at the bar. One of them probably is anyway!

Crabby squawks in mock pain, "Medic!"

Zaharis' dark eyes flicker up towards Ramiro. He doesn't seem bothered by the interruption, letting go of Adele's hand so he can use both to get a cigarette from his pack, which he doesn't light. The offer of scavenging her sandwich gets a slight shake of his head. "Not that hungry. Might go take a walk, been sitting here for two hours."

Greje turns to look at Ramiro as he addresses her, a faint tinge of pink touching her cheeks. "Oh! No… I… I was being a little mean, I'm sorry," she replies, "The Gemenese fundamentalists are exceptionally devout. I don't know if I'll ever have half as much devotion in me," she gnaws at her lower lip. "They just come at the text from a different angle than I was taught to. I shouldn't be so judgemental."

Adele lifts her newly freed hand to hail a server, asking her to box up the rest of the sandwich. "I think I'm going to get out of here, too," she states, taking the styrofoam container as it is offered to her. Apparently you box things yourself in a bar - imagine that. After doing so, she stands, shrugging back into the jacket of her pantsuit which, at some point, got draped upon the back of her chair. She doesn't leave yet.

Ramiro smiles quietly at the sound of a pretty boy is heard over his shoulder. Turning slowly, he looks and sees the parrot nearby in time to also see Roz's vision directed at it. Blushing, he sheepishly scratches the back of his neck in a poor attempt to pass it off as if he meant to do that. It's then that he realizes who's at the table. Two brass, a doctor, and himself…a meathead. Almost blanching, he first focuses on Greje. "S'sorry, no I apologize I was interrupting sir." He smiles, nodding to Zaharis as well. "Sir…" He addresses the Captain, turning his attention back to Greje. "Oh definitely no I'm not offended or anything, being Gemenese, but I was going to tell you that I have folks back home that work at the universities. If you want I could probably arrange for some of their professor friends to proofread it, give some pointers that'll settle the board." He pauses, scratching the back of his neck, shrugging a little. "I mean, they've got so much time on their hands, right?" He seems to retreat a little.

Zaharis slides the cigarette behind his ear, standing up. He waves off Ramiro's reaction to all the brass, shaking his head. "Don't worry about it. Seat's open, get your social on. Chap, be good." He taps his fingers on the table in front of Greje's spot as a sort of farewell, and when Adele looks ready to walk he starts for the door.

Adele waves to Greje, nods to Ramiro, then heads out behind Zaharis.

Roz turns to look over her shoulder too at the group, which she just glanced at when she strolled into this place. A passing smile to those there and those leaving. Turning back to the parrot and then the bartender, she raises the smile up a few watts, "Anything drinkable, I'm not too picky right now."

Greje fairly well jumps off of her chair when Jesse taps in front of her, panicked for a moment before she smiles and gives a breathy half-laugh, "I will, Jesse," she replies, before smiling warmly at Ramiro. "Miss Pike has agreed to proofread it for me, just… the basics, spelling, punctuation, style," she smiles. "I think I'll be good to send it in after that," she adds. "But thanks for the offer. Which seminary do your folk belong to?"

Zaharis leaves for Passageway [O].

Adele leaves for Passageway [O].

"Miros, the Miros Seminary. It's not far from the Colleges of Kobol." Ramiro replies with a smile, moving around the table, placing Roz and Greje in his view. Standing beside the chair that Zaharis vacated, he smiles broadly at Greje. "I know how some people become frustrated with the fundamentalists, it's pretty common with the students from the other colonies that travel to Gemenon for the college." He smiles, waving his hand as if to dispel the frustration. "May I sit, sir?"

Greje smiles, "Only if you call me Greje," she replies. "Remember, I only outrank you on a technicality. If you'd prefer to call me by a professional title, you can call me Sister. Or Padre," she chuckles, "I've gotten a lot of that one, too. I try not to be frustrated with them. They're just very outspoken. I feel bad for them, honestly, they keep making laughingstocks of themselves. It's hard to remember that they're real people when all you see is this caricature."

Crow comes in from Passageway.

Roz picks up her two beers and the basket of snacks she ordered while sitting at the bar. Letting the two people talk about religion, she makes her way over to another table and sets the items down. Pulling out a chair, she drops into it and relaxes back, pulling one of the beers over to drink.

"Very well, Sister." Ramiro sits, a server brings a steaming burger with no cheese over to him and then walks off. Smiling at the food, he sips his ice water, apparently not going for the alcohol tonight. "Well, from a Gemenese point of view, you need to remember that we're raised as fundamentalists. The scriptures are fact, as they are, so any new additions to the teachings has to be kept at that same level of importance. So the professors at the college tend to be less comfortable with a streamlined view of the faith." Ramiro shrugs, as if not giving his opinion. "I've always felt that on some level there's got to be someone with that point of view to keep the religion pure, or else in a few thousand years we'll be talking about Apollo as if he's a myth." Ramiro replies, a friendly look on his face as he pauses to count Roz's beers with a chuckle.

Crow saunters, like any good pilot, into the bar dressed in officer's duty wear. Perhaps not quite finished his shift, or perhaps the CAG's given him some slack time for one reason or another. Loosening the collar of his jacket, he's already hunting for a cigarette as he threads through the crowd at the door and comes to a halt — and a lean — against an adjacent wall. From there, he lights his cigarette and takes a brief gander at who's out and about tonight.

Greje nods her head enthusiastically. "The basic principle of religion is stasis," she replies, fully wnthusiastic now that she's got onto her favorite topic. "Rituals get formed in the past and we keep going through the motions and saying the words long past the time we know what they mean. We do them and say them because we have faith. And it PRESERVES so much wisdom… our faith is… a miracle, quite literally. I don't want to change the rites. I only want to find as close to the truth of what they mean as possible."

Roz swirls a fry in some kind of sauce and then brings it up to chew on it. She half-listens to what is going on around the room and then feels someone 'gandering'. Glancing up and over, she gives the Ensign a gander too before picking up another fry and then the beer.

"Well maybe someday we'll get closer to the truth." Ramiro beams a charming smile over at Greje. "I agree wholeheartedly though…" He starts as he pours some sauce onto the burger. "…it's part of the reason why I decided to enlist rather than follow my father in working at the college. My patron is Apollo, so why not go out and walk the walk for a few years so that I can envision that path ahead of me. I think the trick with the Lords of Kobol, though, is to remember that in all of that repetition comes a deep tradition that our ancestors practiced before us. To imagine we've worshipped where they worshipped, you know? We're all connected."

Goose, goose, gander; it could be a game, or it could just be a way to pass the time. Roz's glance is briefly met by the dark-haired Ensign, then obfuscated by the drag he takes of his cigarette. Nicotine, but apparently no alcohol for him while he's on duty; the bar is sidestepped and he starts toward the young woman's table instead.

Greje folds her arms over top of the chair and leans her cheek on them as she listens, moving her head in a subtle nod. "We are. It brings us together. The cult sites, the words we learn, the items we carry with us. It really makes us who we are, in ways we hardly even know. Even those who don't practice."

Those blue eyes look up to the dark-haired Ensign as he works on some landing gear. Roz finishes the fry and picks up a napkin nearby to wipe her hands. She rests her elbows on the table and rubs her hands together a bit as some of the grease is still left there.

"Yeah, so the Gemenese can appear to be stuffy and rigid, but when submitting that you've got to remember to speak their language. Draw conclusions to fact that exists in the scriptures, capture their imagination in a manner that tells them that you've discovered something that brings light to something that they may have overlooked." Ramiro smiles to Greje, lifting his glass of water in a mock toast to her. "Almost every lesson I was taught back home was about that. The only way the scripture is added to is by finding lost document, or by making sense of something that was once a mystery. But those things that make sense have -got- to be more archaeological and less personal, or else it risks being speculation. The more speculation, the weaker the teachings become."

"Got some room?" is asked after Crow's threaded through the crowd and ended up at Roz's table. The other chair is tapped with the toe of his boot, as if to indicate it's quite plain she has room, but her desire for company's more in question. His speech is thick, and could be mistaken for cockney if one isn't up on the Aerelon dialects. Briefly his eyes dart toward the bar, and the conversation there; he'd have to be able to read lips, to determine what's being talked about with all the noise around them.

"Well, I deal more in textual issues than archaeological. Our sacred texts have been through a long transmission process before they got to us," she reminds him. "I try to reconstruct what the paradigm of the text might have said, as well as how the verses relate to one another. I hope people don't read it as idle speculation on my part."

"Looks like this landing bay is empty for now," Roz replies with a sweep of her hand. Her accent is educated, but that bit of Saggie 'down home' creeps in at times. She raises the beer again and takes a deeper drink from it, leaving it with more bubbles than brew to slide back down inside the bottle. "Name's Roz, but they call me Fire Eater in the air."

"..and I'm sure that will largely vary, depending on who reads your work and who doesn't." Ramiro admits, smiling to the Lieutenant. "I'd love to get a copy of your work, if you're willing. I know it's still still a work in progress from what you said, but if I promise…" He makes a cross against his chest. "…and cross my heart not to sneak it back home to my folks to give you a head start, would you let me read it? We call those texts bedtime stories back home." He grins.

There's a briefly curious look from the Ensign, and then a chuckle as he averts his gaze slantwise for a moment. "Roooz." The vowel is drawn out, lent a slight Caprican inflection like he's trying to imitate her more educated speech. "I don't think we've flown together. I'd recognise a fire eater if I saw one." The chair's tugged out and his solid frame sprawled into it, smoke exhaled politely away.

Greje smiles. "Sure! I'm already going to be heading down to services to print a copy for Miss Pike, I'll have them print out an extra. Or I can get it to you in data format, if you want to save a tree," she chuckles.

"Data format makes for smaller room in my footlocker." Ramiro beams back at her, taking a sip of his water as he looks over his burger. "Not to change the subject, but when are you performing blessings? I've been so busy I've been unable to arrange that with your office, I'm sorry, I feel a bit of a slouch not having done it yet."

Crow adds, almost as an afterthought, "Micah."

"It's on the plane they finally got out of the rubble and dragged over. My baby survived the crap that went down on the Pandora," Roz supplies and then nods, "Nice to meet another pilot, Micah," she slides the ashtray on the table over toward him, "Fry?" Offering that too.

"Oh! Well, why don't you come to the offices now? We can make you an appointment," Greje smiles. "I think my schedule is prety open, there hasn't been much in the way of calls for services."

"Yeah," Crow replies, a murmur around his cigarette that's followed by an exhale of the smoke through his nose. "We seem to be scarce around here." The offer gives him pause, then his cigarette is switched to the other hand and one of the fries plucked and eaten. "You were serving on the Pandora?" The question's a casual one, though his voice wavers just a -touch- when he asks it.

"Definitely…I haven't been past the office yet." Ramiro stands. Having been taking bites of his food during their conversation, he leaves a tip and stands. Brushing his hands off with a napkin, he looks for a rubbish station, but then realizes he's in a restaurant and not the mess. "Shall we?"

Greje uncurls herself, blossoming into the tall, geeky, boyish-looking woman that she is as she turns the chair around and tucks it under the table. "Sure. Just don't mind the mess, I'm still not satisfied enough with the article to put away all my books."

Roz trades off the foamed beer for the other one sitting at her table. A nod to the question, "I ended up here on the station, just some minor burns. Helluva mess," and the beer is drank. She reaches for a fry and glances up as the two get up to leave. A nod to them, "Night," she says as they pass by.

"Completely understandable. I only wish I had enough room to allow to make messy." Ramiro replies, letting her lead the way out of the taproom. Pushing in his chair, he turns to follow the Lieutenant.

Greje leaves for Passageway [O].

Ramiro leaves for Passageway [O].

"I heard," Crow replies, ashing the cigarette in a dish that's ostensibly meant for appetisers, but it's all he's got on hand. Sucking in a breath, then releasing it again, he goes for another fry. "My dad was on that ship." He chews, and tries to talk still around the food; it makes him only more incomprehensible due to his accent, "Hell of a mess, indeed. But you're, um.." He swallows, lifts his eyes to her. "..adjusting?"

"Sorry to hear that," Roz meets his gaze as she sets the bottle down and picks up another fry, "Maybe I knew him?" The query comes a bit more quietly now and she uses her other hand to push the hair back over her shoulder. "We're trained for this kind of thing." Which must be the answer to the adjusting. Sounds like a training book quote.

"St. Germain," the young Ensign supplies, holding Roz's eyes as she tucks her hair over her shoulder. The buttons on his uniform sparkle, nearly blinding when they catch the light; at least he hasn't been letting them tarnish. "Trained for a lot of things," he adds then. "But that's what CAGs are there to remind us of. I'm not your CAG. You're not mine." A beat, and he licks some grease off his fingers, ducking his eyes to do so. "You all right?"

The pause is audible and Roz lifts the beer again, "St. Germain…" the bottle is lifted a bit higher, "Here's to your dad," she tips the bottle to her lips and drinks, her throat moving as three good gulps go down. When the beer is set down again, her eyes meet his again, "So Say We All." The switch of the conversation comes soon after, "So…how long have you been on the Genesis?"

Crow seems to know better than to pursue a line of conversation that's not followed up on. His question's left to hang for a moment, and his expression actually softens a touch when the 'toast' is made. Just a touch, and then the cocky smile is back in place again. "So Say We All," he intones, reaching for a fry and tipping it in mock salute before popping it into his mouth. "'bout a week, now," he replies to the last. "Still in't like home yet. Miss my place on Caprica. You? Been with the Pandora for long?"

Roz rolls her neck just slightly as the tenseness set in there, "Year or so," she raises a smile now and takes up one more fry before wiping her hands again, "Something like that anyway. Time just kinda flows along, one day after another. Hopefully the old bucket will get fixed and we can haul it back to the colonies and get another crew ready."

Crow watches a moment, then ducks his eyes again; a glitter of green and blue beneath dark lashes as his cigarette's toked from indulgently. "I've heard they've been making good progress on it, FTL drive's what's taking the longest. I'm sure they've got everyone they can spare, putting time in." He gestures then with his cigarette. "You should see a doctor for that."

Roz reaches down in her pocket and brings up some cubits for the bill. Nothing like dodging the poor guy for all his niceness, "Sorry to do this to you, Micah, but the cot is calling my name and I have to be up early for CAP. Gotta work for that pay we get," she stands up and then does another pause, "Thanks..for the chat." A big smile curls up then, "You've got interesting eyes, not something easily forgotten."

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