"Joining the primary? I see. Shifted from secondary myself a few months ago. It's good and bad at the same time. Although I'll say it's a fair shade more colorful and professional than the run-of-the-mill secondaries. No offense intended."
He grins towards Jane.
"I'll tell you one thing, you join us, you join a family. A family of misfits and wierd elements...but it's cozy. We look out for our own. Can't say I felt that all my time in secondary and other branches of the military."
Looking at the direction Jane was indicating, Lewis grinned some more.
"That's Cahoone. She's mostly like that. I wouldn't disturb her in that mood for all the gold on Manhattan...And that officer who just blew a gasket is Redline. Mostly insane."
"Glad to hear it Sir." It was why she'd re-enlisted, after all. Defence was a family of a special kind. Empasis on the special. She took a sip of the brandy, eyeing the mostly-clear liquid analytically. You'd think with all the high-tech facilities about the Navy'd be able to put a decent drink together. No such luck. It looked like some things never changed.
"Shelled?"She asked, indicating Redline. Though no-one used physical artillery anymore, the term for insane personell had well and truly outlasted its origins and was still frequently used, particurarly amongst foot soldiers for whom enemy bombardment was still a real threat.
"Shouldn't he be in medical?"Not that the man's health was her responsibility but he was disturbing her drink. Then again, it was hardly the worst distraction she'd endured. She shrugged, letting the matter pass.
"Where're you posted Sir? If you don't mind my asking." She turned her chair, watching the events in the bar with a barely-concealed grin. It was good to home.
Lewis waved dismissively. "Not that I know of. He's always been like that. Good to have at your back when a turtle is intent on turning you inside out however..."
Calling for another drink, he continued.
"Westfalen defense fleet. Although sometimes Defmir makes me burn gas all the way back to New York for her own amusement. I wish the damned police would do their jobs..."
Somewhere in the corner of the Bar, sat a lone man wearing what one would compare to a uniform of a desk officer. In front of him was a cup of coffee, no steam came out of the cup, clearly suggesting that this man was already there before all of the other Navy officers came. A stack of paperwork stood in between the face of the man and those who wish to view his face. Nobody dared approached the man whilst they risked stirring up a hornet's nest. Suddenly the Bar's doors flew open as a Lieutenant rushed into it. This Lieutenant almost bumps over one of the officers sitting in the bar.
"Pardon me.", as he said clearly hurrying to the desk officer's table.
The desk officer looks up and acknowledges the Lieutenant.
"Why such a hurry, Barnes.", he said while attending to some papers.
Barnes takes a moment to breath, " *deep exhalation* Well sir, it seems the woman you conversed with in Barrier Gate is applying for the Prims."
The desk officer merely shrugged, "As expected.... she would have done that.."
She nodded in recognition. Liberty Police Inc wasn't exactly adored by the voting public. Not as long as they arrested one half and took bribes from the other. The same issue had nearly convinced the ex-Marine to defect, though she would never admit to it. She eyed her glass with distaste. Drinking was looking to be a distinctly poorer idea then it had five minutes ago.Her response was guarded, lips tight. "That would be very welcome Sir."Not that it's going to happen.
The gap in the conversation drifted into minutes. Hartman mentally sorted through a list of topics, searching for something appropriate. It'd been a long time since she had needed to make formal conversation. She was almost glad when a Lieutenant barrelled into her, nearly knocking her from the stool. She bit back a retort, tracing the frantic man's passage across the room. Something big must have happened to account for that sort of rush. Perhaps Rheinland had launched another incursion. Her brown eyes narrowed as he approached the desk-jockey in the corner.
A paper-pusher. The worst kind of Officer. A job that, in her opinion, could just as easily have been outsourced to civilians rather then wasting trained personnel. Add to that the callous attitude such men inevitably developed to men and material and there was little love lost between the administration departments and troops on the ground. She turned away, returning her attention to the bar.
Yet, she couldn't force herself to disregard the Lieutenant's exchange. Too low for her to make out, and undeniably familiar, it was impossible for her to ignore. The man's identity was like mist in the early morning. Definitely there, and just as impossible to grasp. She inclined her head toward the desk-jockey, light from the bar reflecting off the scar stretching from her eye to jaw line.
Listening to Ashfield made Natalie smirk for a second, she had of course seen the pictures, however it was not in her mind to comment on them. She pointed at the bottle on the table, notifying Ashfield it was his turn now. Natalie also made it clear that a 'no' was not acceptable.
"Well, I just hate it when those degenerated punks, also known as Outcasts, want to shoot me, they always try it over and over again. God, I hate them so much and I'm sure that I'm not the only one."
She leaned back and tried to calm down a bit and looked around in the bar. "I swear, Lewis again, sooner or later I'll end up beating him up with a stool." She imagined this scenario and it made her smirk again. "Would definately bring some life into this bar."
[color=#6666CC][font=Palatino Linotype]"Outcasts, aye. Bunch of foreigner dudes coming from god-knows-where in the other damn corner of the sector and sniffing any kind of powder all the time. It's fine, everybody hates them." Ashfield took a deep gulp from Natalie's bottle and then leaned back on his seat, having a clear view of the entire room. Redline on one side, hitting the table with his head, Lewis and another lass having a talk, and the Lieutenant who rushed into the place minutes ago.
[color=#6666CC][font=Palatino Linotype]"Well, uh. I can indeed notice the amount of hatred accumulated, somehow." He followed Nat's look, finally getting stuck on Lewis. Ashfield grinned.[color=#6666CC][font=Palatino Linotype]"Why don't you relieve some stress with him? Way better than with this... where did you get this booze? Anyway, come on, go wake him up, he's asking for it!"
The stack of paperwork; although resembling a desk officer's paperwork, was something entirely different considering the desk officer's weapons to tackle this sort of enemy were a pen. Normally, desk jobs consisted of a variety of arsenal at the D.O. disposal. No, this one wasn't the type desk officers usually handled. The way this officer moved was resembling that of somebody who just lost a loved one. Clearly, this officer didn't lose a loved one as the amount of papers could not have contain the news of death of one person.
"Barnes, I'm glad that you came quickly in spite of them needing your ever-so skills at maneuvering the Douglas.", said the officer, but that last word was carelessly slip out in a voice clearly recognized by those who have met him before. The officer scanned the bar if anyone had heard him; though he was careful not to let them see his face. He spotted but one pair of eyes with a mark clearly visible in the light.
He motioned for Barnes to lean in closer, "I believe I have found her. Though I might quite say... this is a bad time for us to meet. What with all these letters I have to sign."
"Letters, sir?", remarked the curious Lieutenant. "Letters of condolence...... for enlisted personnel who died during the course of action.", he said in a sad tone. At a time like this, who would even want to receive a letter explaining the death of a family member, relative, friend, and the likes.
Unusually, again the officer's voice got carried away at the last few words and as if to catch attention to the people around the bar went slightly louder than usual. Just then he stopped a passing waiter and murmured something. The waiter went around the bar to some older bottles in the back of the it. He then found what he was looking for and for a moment the people of the bar saw one of the most elegant looking bottles of wine they've even seen. The waiter opened the bottle , some of it in two wine glasses, and brought the drinks to the officer's table.
"Here's to them.", toasted the officer. "Aye.", followed the Lieutenant.
"No idea, Captain. Probably found that bottle somewhere in my Guardian, and to be honest, I don't really care about it, the only purpose it has for me is getting drunk. Of course, that's just me..."
Natalie scratched her head while she observed how Ashfield gazed at the bottle. "Probably not good enough for our Captain..."
"And...relieving some stress wouldn't end well for me or for those in my area, not exactly sure if you want that, because I don't."
"I wonder how stable those stools are..." She smirked again and erased that thought as fast as she could, causing trouble would definately be the wrong move.
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