The Wheel Turns
The Wheel Turns
Summary: Shem delivers an order from Colonel Gaelan to open a charge of fraternization against Sergeant Farkas.
Date: 33 ACH
Related Logs: Indiscretions, Wake of a Mistake

JAG Office Carina - Main Level
33 ACH 6285 Souls

This office is a rather plain affair with a pair of desks placed at right angles to one another in a corner of the room, with computer terminals on each desk, file cabinets, still new from the crates, sit along one wall, while in the middle of the room is a collection of four chairs. Finishing off the room is a new coffee maker sitting on a table near a sink with a collection of cups bearing the seal of the Battlestar Genesis on them.

Contents: Isabeau Shem

Exits: [O] Out

Isabeau's hair has been tamed into a tightly professional bun of midnight at the base of her skull. The color is that gloriously deep black that flashes with highlights of red and blue. Her eyes are shuttered from within, their depth only to be guessed at. The eyes themselves are a deep hazel that shades from almost green to almost black depending on what she wears. The color is outlined by a thin ring of midnight and flickers with silver highlights. Her skin glows with a dusky olive and rose smoothness, high cheekbones underscoring the drama of her eyes. Her lips are a fine, perfect bow that glistens the red of rubies or cherries, though the coloring seems entirely natural, rather than by design.
She wears a soft blue silk blouse that hugs her form with a casual intimacy. The neckline runs from one shoulder to the other, dipping in the center in a mid-level V. It is edged in crimson lace that frames and accents her curves. The sleeves of the shirt run down her arms, the cuffs buttoning with blue pearl buttons at her wrists. The blouse falls softly about her curves, highlighting her figure gently, nips in at the waist and is tucked into the waistline of her skirt.
About her waist, she wears a black leather belt with a handheld clipped to her right hip. The skirt she wears is a midnight blue, the fabric hugging her hips and running in a smooth, tight swoop down to just above mid calf. Her long legs are sheathed in silk stockings and she wears dark blue high-heeled pumps on her feet.

A man with distinctly Saggitaron features standing 5'11 tall. He has a sharp chin, subtle nose, and singly-creased brown eyes that seem perpetually narrowed. His black hair is cut to a medium length. Well-toned but not overly built. He wears a Marine uniform.

The offices of the JAG are crisp and clean with that businesslike air of industry that some only dream of attaining. Isabeau is seated behind her desk, a Marine logo travel mug full of rich Marine brewed heaven near to hand. Yes, the woman knows her coffee and it seems that someone has realized her preference. In coffee, at any rate. She is leaning back in her chair, a PDA in one hand and a pen in another. She seems to be cross referencing something on the PDA with the hardcopy on her desk.

Shem opens the door, knocking on it as he does so.

The knock brings the woman out of her work mode and she flicks the PDA off with one hand while the other closes the folder on her desk, "Come in?" Both are put away as you enter. Her smile is warm, eyes bright, "May I help you?"

As his other hand passes by the door, the folder that he's carrying becomes visible. "Seems like I can only find you guys over here these days," he says as he closes the door. "Are you with the JAG?" He speaks and holds himself with the typical reserve of a Marine.

Isabeau's smile remains warm, "Well, yes. At the moment our responsibilities are divided, but this office allows several advantages. And, since the tragedy of the PAS, I no longer have another office." She steeples her fingers slightly, elbows resting on her desk, "Yes. I am Captain Isabeau Aragon y Castile de Vargas. Please have a seat, Lieutenant?" Her tone remains gentle, though one hand leaves the steepling to gesture toward one of the client chairs, "How can I be of service?" She blinks then and chuckles, "My apologies. I have been meeting with civilians clients today so did not wear my uniform. Please be at ease."

"Ah." Shem takes the gestured seat and opens the folder. He removes a ream of documents and places them on her desk. Turning them around, he pushes them over. "I bring papers from Major Gaelan, sir, he would like to file fraternization charges against Sergeant Victor Farkas."

Isabeau blinks, one brow lifting slightly, "Oh?" Taking the folder, she pulls it closer and begins to scan the forms, "Well, this is unexpected." Turning one page, she finishes it slowly, then looks up at you, "Thank you, Lieutenant. Did the Major indicate that he wishes you to bring a reply?"

Shem shakes his head. "No, sir, just that he wanted the charges filed. He's directed military intelligence to perform an investigation." He glances at her clothes.

Isabeau nods, "Very well, Lieutenant. Thank you." Reaching across the desk, she picks up a stamp and affixes the date and time along with her official seal to the documents, "The charges have been filed. I trust that we will be working closely with our office?" She is seated in her civilian clothing behind her desk. There is a pile of folders on hand, though only one is currently open. Shem is seated in a chair opposite.

Shem scratches the back of his head. "Yeah, probably," he answers. "To be honest, sir, I think this is about as closed a case as a case can be."

Isabeau says, "Oh?" She closes the folder, her fingers once more steepling before her. Must be habitual. "Why do you say that, Lieutenant?" She sounds clearly interested in the man's opinion, her gaze focusing on him in what could be called a guilless manner. "Have you reviewed the particulars?"

The doorway to the JAG Office is opened, allowing Salin to make his way into the office, closing the door behind him. A brief look around reveals both Shem and Isabeau to him and his eye brow merely cocks upwards slightly as he looks between the two, "I trust that I am not interrupting anything in particular, am I?" He doesn't wait for an answer, for he's already making his way towards his desk to deposit a variety of files.

Shem answers, "Just half of it, sir, but that's about enough for me. I think the major wants a stronger case." He leaves the tail of that sentence, probably for a court martial, off the record. On Salin's entrance, he glances over. "No, sir, I'm done." He nods to Isabeau. "By your leave?"

While she is clearly aware of Salin's entry, Isabeau's attention remains focused on Shem, "Ah, I see. Well, Lieutenant, justice does not work that way. Even in cases that seem cut and dried, they occasionally are not. We must weigh all sides and try to come to the truth." She nods, then, "Enjoy your day." She is not intending to lecture, really. Just make the office's position clear. "Thank you for bringing the paperwork directly. Give the Major my regards."

"Will do, sir," Shem replies. He takes his empty folder and stands. "Have a good day." He turns around and walks for the exit.

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