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RP: 4th Fleet (NSN) [Off-Duty 1.0] Choosing Poisons

Shaking the man's hand Sawyer said "my name's Sawyer and I'll let the others introduce themselves to you when they get around to it. I'm your guy when it comes to heavy support and when you need massive quantities of fire being laid down on a target." With that said they went over and sat with the others as Sawyer continued to work on his drink.
 
Samuel scooped up his drink and slid a couple DA to the bartender. It was something light, a cherry liqueur mixed with cola, since he didn't have the stomach for anything stronger. He surveyed the bar: the place was packed with Marines and the various hangers-on/pickup artists you usually found on base. The rest of the squad was living it up, slurping down shots and trying to get in each others' pants.

That is, except for one of them. He noticed Morris, sitting by himself as he tried to work something out on a notepad. The guy hadn't been here for long (of course, neither had Samuel), and he seemed all right when they were back down in the Squid base, shooting up Nekos. Sliding into the seat next to Henry, Sam tried to see what he was working on, but the notepad had disappeared.

Samuel played it cool, trying to look like he had planned it all. "Hey," he said, raising his glass a bit and taking a sip. "So, how are you liking the 4th Fleet so far?"
 
"Alexandra Mayhew, medic." Alex gave her name to the newcomer. That was expected, since she did not knew many people here. She looked at the new person and studied him. He rather short, but she got used to be taller then others. Maybe that was why she liked Id-Sols so much, at least they were always taller then her.

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"You are not used to company eh?" Lisa asked back. She lighted her own cigar and inhaled. She held the smoke in for a while, before exhaling the smoke up towards the ceiling. She did not forget that he mentioned parole. "So what is your name?" She said when she was done with the exhaling.
 
"John Karrelik, standard meatbag marine," John introduced himself. He wondered how they would react to him being so short and yet not avoiding combat in a role such as combat engineer, or something similarly nerdy. He certainly had the intelligence, but he never had any credentials. He wondered briefly pretty much every day if he shouldn't just go back to school, but every time he tried his pride didn't allow him.
 
The Tech Expert seemed a little tense as Lisa continued to speak. His own suspicions of the intentions in others marred is ability to see the woman's interest in him. Yet, he managed to keep his focus elsewhere, rather that affording her the opportunity of eye contact.

"Bastilen." answered the man, keeping up the small wall isolation between her and himself. Still, admitting his name was a start.
 
Leon raised and eyebrow then shrugged. "You can take it personally, even though it was only professional criticism. Your ability, or anyone else's, as a Marine is not a reflection of who they are as a person. Only as a Marine. Here's an example. 'You have beautiful, shining hair and a great sense of self-awareness,' which you really do by the way, is a personal comment about you as a person. 'Your leadership skills are not the best and here's why....' is an example of professional criticism. Anything I can say as a professional does not change your beautiful hair or sharp sense of self-awareness.

"As a clone, your education and experiences probably aren't as... varied as some of the others here. By the way, I don't think the 4th Fleet Marines are as bad as some others make them. Simply... unprepared. I just said what others think to get you lot fired up," Leon grinned before taking a sip of his drink.

"The Admiral can certainly take some of the blame for the mission's ending. He did send the Marines in without a full idea. But he's not qualified to judge the Marines' capabilities so of course he'll either overestimate or underestimate. In this case, he overestimated and this is the result. Next, he'll underestimate and make sure the job is super easy. And as much as we can, in fairness, point the finger at him, as Marines, we should not be blaming the Navy for our inability to complete the mission." He was quiet for a while, wondering how to finish what he wanted to say.

"I reviewed the Tange mission. A great job there, by the way, some of the issues I raised earlier were also present there but it was less obvious. The Admiral treats the Marines like fire-and-forget weapons. He does not want to be involved with ground operations and wants to trust the Marines to be able to handle themselves. After this last mission, and my presence, it's clear he doesn't anymore which means he's going to be hovering over my shoulder for a while. We're all under scrutiny and we've all, in one way or another, got something to prove."

As Leon looked past Phaedra's shoulder, he noticed Lisa Simmons and Bastilen Wreno talking. Hoho, Wreno, you sly dog. "But let's discuss the more depressing stuff later. Tell me about yourself and I'll do likewise, we can figure whether we have any common ground."

-----------------------

"Good to hear you went to a specialist. The most brilliant medic here says the easiest solution is a wooden peg-leg and squawking parrot," Bernhard said to Sawyer, a slight smile on the staid man's face. "So? Hey! You're teasing me! Sawyer, he's teasing me!" Laura exclaimed in a high-pitched, childish voice.

"If you're seeing a specialist, it means less work for us. He or she would be your go-to person for anything related to your prosthetic. I know nothing about machines, Romero does but it's a risky thing asking her to examine your leg, don't know about the new medic. Speak of the devil..." Bernhard was saying as Alexandra approached.

"Bernhard Greer, medic. The inebriate here is Laura Romero, likewise a medic," Bernhard greeted Alexandra and pointed to Laura, who whined on cue. "He's teasing me again!" To which, Bernhard merely grinned and cocked an eyebrow.

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The bartender pushed back Samuel's DA. "Chief said he's paying for the Marines."
 
Wulfe stepped into the bar, relieved from the cumbersome duffel bag he had been carrying the whole day. Right, social 101, Wulfe; look forward, don’t make eye contact and walk in a straight line towards the bar. You’re here for a few beers that your miserable wage can afford, not to make new friends, he assured himself as he moved towards an empty bar stool and sat, removing his beret and ready to order a cold beer.
Wulfe started to fumble with his pockets for a few DA that he was sure weren’t in his posession until he heard the bartender talking to someone else nearby, "Chief said he's paying for the Marines." He heard, making him gladly take his hands out of his pocket and simply order a cold beer.
 
Lisa studied the face of the marine in front of herself. He clearly was not very talkative, but that was what made it fun. Maybe she will make him talk. Well she will have to make him, since his drink was not alcoholic.

"Well nice to meet Bastilen." She said with a grin. "I guess," she added with a giggle. "How about I buy you a "welcome to the fleet" drink? I would hate for you to fell unwelcome. So what's your poison? I would have you as a bourbon drinker, maybe even Brandy." She said, trying ot guess what his drink of choice might be.

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Alex looked at two other medics. Male one cleary said, he did not how to take proper care of prosthetics. Did he not go through medical course for corpsmen? Or maybe the course changed since she did it. It was years after all.

"Jolly good to meet you all." She said to two medics and rookie with a smile. "How about a toast then?" She then said raising her Whiskey glass, waiting for others.
 
John wordlessly raised his glass and took a sip, figuring he should probably observe the pleasantries involved with getting drunk even if he wasn't going to get totally shitfaced that night.
 
"But there's no bread..." Laura started to say when Bernhard lightly slapped the back of her head. "A toast is something where you drink to celebrate something. Raise your glass and repeat the person making the toast," he explained to Laura. She hesitantly raised her glass of a bluish liqueur that the bar tender had poured for her.

Aside to Alex, he added, "Clone, brilliant with most things but clueless on the social side." He too raised his glass, "To what?"
 
Bastilen rested his fore-arm in his palm, giving the tall woman a momentary glance, before swirling around the inconveniently named energy drink. He didn't exactly need to hide the face that he wasn't planning to drink that night, but something about it made him hesitant to just announce it. This wouldn't much of a problem at all if he didn't have the insufferable eyes of the IPG watching his every move. Should he answer? Could he resist a bought drink? Should he resist?

"I'm more of a beer man." said Bastilen, coming to admit his rather cheap tastes, "Tiller, Grubs, and Yolksva. The common stuff. Not much for anything else."
 
Phaedra listened to all that Leon said, and found that she agreed with him in the fact that the Admiral no longer knew how to use the Marines effectively. But what caught her attention were the multiple times that he mentioned her "beautiful, shining hair." Phaedra was not sure how to respond to those comments, and if they were compliments or simply part of his illustration. But Leon quickly moved on before she could further process these new feelings.

"But let's discuss the more depressing stuff later. Tell me about yourself and I'll do likewise, we can figure whether we have any common ground," he said.

Phaedra thought for a moment, then shrugged.

"I must confess that I do not know where to begin; you know nearly all of the vital information about myself that is contained in my dossier."

Phaedra took a nervous sip from her glass; she knew that the incident behind her scars would soon come up again. But she was not sure she wanted to retell that story again so soon.
 
Leon waved Phaedra's words away. "Not that. I've read your files, no need to drag up old hash. I meant something more along the lines of what you like to do, eat or kill. I like to play the violin. Your turn."

He was curious to see what effect that would have on her. Some women liked it, some were unimpressed. Phaedra's reaction would give him something to gauge her by. And her response to him would be even more interesting.
 
"What kind of asshole offers us 48 hours leave, confined to a base?!" Ran was already bitching not ten seconds after he was out the door of his living quarters, with a pack of cigarettes rolled up in his sleeve and a fresh cancer stick freshly lit, cradled in the corner of his mouth.

The demotion to Mid Corporal stung him only to the degree that the amount of Marines he could liberate alcohol and cigarettes from was now limited to a smaller amount. Mid Corporals don't exactly pull rank like Chiefs do, and while Ran did admire the irony in his hatred of officers and his utilizing rank to gank objects of vice from other Marines, this was a more simpler life that he could pursue. For now.

"I ought to fuckin' have giant bag, filled with admiral's daughters, ready to literally fuck me out of a promotion." Ran said to noone in particular while walking, utilizing both hands to trace out the shapely figure of a "bag full of high-class bitches." Lighting another cigarette, the former Chief entered the bar and made for the counter like a food-starved orphan.

Taking a seat, Ran scanned the back of the bar for anything in particular, and ordered six shots of whiskey. "And put some hot sauce in it."
 
Phaedra raised an eyebrow.

"You play violin?" she asked in surprise. "I would certainly like to hear you play it sometime. It has been some time since I've listened to live music."

Phaedra fondly thought back to her first day with the Marines of the NSS Acadia, when her friend Amelia brought her to see a live celtic performance. And then Phaedra furrowed her brow.

"Well, live music aside from Aethersperm. You wouldn't happen to know any celtic music, would you?" asked Phaedra hopefully. She then caught her excitement and returned to her normal, stoic self. Which did not last long, considering the alcohol in her system.

"As for me, aside from a love of firearms, I do happen enjoy reading. I find history fascinating in particular, especially military history. The best repository of knowledge is the past."
 
"All six at once? Yamataian or Nepleslian hot sauce?" the bartender asked Ran as he looked for six clean glasses. It was a very strange night. Some Marines were treating it like a party, others were acting like their dicks had fallen off. Well, business was business and alcohol was a good thing in pretty much every situation.

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Celtic? Leon scratched his chin. "I've heard of it but I don't play it. It's not quite what I've practiced with. But give me some sheet music and I'll give it a whirl. I don't mind playing a bit whenever you're free," he said to her as a smile crept onto his face. Leon also made a mental note to ask Phaedra about how she had developed an interest in such a niche musical taste.

He'd seen emotion, but not just emotion, fascination and nostalgia. "I'd be very surprised if there were Marines here who didn't pay attention to basic military history. I've heard it said that the earliest military historians were soldiers who wanted to recount and explain their achievements in a scientific manner. And so of course, the first students were military officers. Don't know how true it is but seems plausible at least. Who wouldn't want to brag if they conquered a planet?" Leon chuckled at the thought of some ancient general writing how he did this and that in such and such fashion.

But Phaedra's reactions were positive. They could get along and she wasn't just being polite.

"My turn. I have two younger sisters who are still in school. One of them wants to be a hair stylist for the rich and famous. You should let her work on your hair, make it even more stunning. I'm sure with so much hair, she could come up with some fancy styles too. The other one's still trying to figure out what she wants to do after high school but she's still got two more years."
 
Alexandra kept her glass high. She gave the goatee man a strange look, seeing as he sipped his drink before she even could say the toast. She then looked at Laura and chuckled.

"Ah don'T worry abotu these things Lass. I am clone too, I know what is it like to be clueless." Alex said to Laura, giving her a warm smile. She surely knew what is it like to not know abotu things. Even now after years she was still estranged to many specifics of live.

"Well let's get to ti then mates!" She said, raising the glass even more. "To the nepleslian marines. Let our aim be true and our hearts be free of fear!" She toasted and drunk her whiskey.

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Lisa studied Bastilen. She wondered what could make him talk. She waved at bartender and pointed at her beer and then showing him two fingers. She hated shouting, and bartender was sure to understand her order. She then picked up her glass and finished her first beer of the evening.

"Well Bastilen," She then returned her attention to marine in front of her. "Well I cannot helped but to notice your rank?" SHe pointed to his rank pins, showing his rank of P4C. "Who did you piss off? Captain Murderface?"
 
"My hair?" asked Phaedra, fiddling with her long ponytail.

"I suppose that would be alright. I have not had it styled any other way. Perhaps a change would be good."

Phaedra finished off the rest of her shot and then continued.

"So what is it like having a pair of siblings? I was close with the other members of my batch group; I suppose they were like siblings of sorts. Until most of them..." Phaedra trailed off. She shook her head.

"Nevermind. Is it challenging being the oldest of three?"
 
John realized he must have looked like he was toasting before the toast was even announced. Embarrassed, he looked down and kept his silence in the face of the strange and slightly hostile look from the medic proposing the toast. When the toast was finally announced, he began drinking his beer then realized everyone else was knocking back their entire drink and simply chugged it without missing a beat. He hoped.
 
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