The wall that was holding the door shook as if someone knocked on it with a wrecking ball. It promptly opened and a large, sweaty man in a white undershirt unmannerly rushed in, and slightly groggily. His gaze immediately locked on the can of beer. No one was holding it, so it certainly couldn't belong to anyone. The man picked it up and drank all of its remaining contents in a gulp, which echoed throughout the office. A few of its drops mixed with the sweat over his undershirt, some of which had already dripped on the expensive carpet. His sunglasses finally met Dagon's eyes, but there was no sunlight in the Revenant. The man's thick, black and greasy beard was covered with beer foam. He made a long sigh of pleasure, and then burped.
"The men are running out of beer..." Other men were actually fine.
That was the Chief Engineer, David Levy, but his appearance was more fitting for Goliath. With the exception of the enormous, protruding layer of belly fat covered with hair, which would be an annoying hindrance in the event of melee combat, and a tattoo on his shoulder. It was a purple pony. Its tail wasn't painted, but was instead played by the bundle of black hair growing from a brown mole.
Making the ship ready for combat, in unison with the 30-ish mechanics and engineers that were his subordinates, was Levy's job. He wasn't doing it at the moment. He was drinking his boss' beer.
Avery was at an utter loss for words at the moment, despite there being several wise-cracks that could have been added to the current situation, he was actually just about to reach back for his can when it was taken away by the Chief Engineer, in response to this he nodded in contemplation before eventually deciding on something to say.
Apart from stealing my beer that I was just beginning to enjoy, are you here for anything of significance, Chief? He had most obviously switched back to his 'work' tone, coming off as very formal and polite despite the minor irritation he must have otherwise experienced for a fleeting moment.
Come to think of it I'm always surprised by your lack of any form of sobriety but apparent experience at what you do, so I'm going to assume you've come here to discuss something project-related. If not, you owe me a beer and I owe you a reprimand. He observed Levy, never sure of what sort of answer he was going to get from the man and if it all, it was more a question of if he'd understand it or not.
Despite the minor annoyances, Avery had come to respect him out of a growing 'Grandfather' sentiment he seemed to have on the crew, inclusive of Avery. He was never abrasive nor was he ever disrespectful, but he was occasionally just as embarrassing as any grandparent. Perhaps with a capital 'E'.
"Ur... Yeah...", Levy uttered almost cluelessly as he scratched his neck, accumulating a sediment of sweaty grease under his nails, already greased with motor oil. "We finished da tantalum skeleton 'bout twenny mins ago... but we've just run outta beer..." He extended his hand to politely return the can to Avery, which was now perfectly empty and smeared with whatever was on Levy's hand besides motor oil. "Sorry for da lack of form an' sobriety an' wha'ever boss, but can someone bring that crate of beer already? It's like no one does his job on this dayum ship..."
One could almost paint the remaining of the smirk in Meallan's mouth. He was used to men like these, bay techs that kept everything running in top condition as they could. But seeing Levy drinking Avery's beer was borderline funny as it was sigh worthy. He walked towards his fridge and removed two beers, throwing them at each man. "One for the road, Chief. And no worries, I'll make sure our boys don't die of thirst."
Picking his own up, before Levy could target it as well, he looked at the data-pad and turned to Levy. "So we're bare bones now. Good job, Chief. Must be a record somewhere. The power-core is on ice? Unplugged and shut off from any interference? That thing is a nuke bomb."
Levy smiles at the can in his hand and makes a nod of gratitude at Dagon. "Yeah, all's done. Da instruments say it's fluctuatin', but I think that's just me an' da beer..." The instruments were, however, perfectly correct about the core's unusual fluctuations. "Continue tomorrow, boss?", he said as he was already preparing to leave. Engineering wasn't really the job he's always wanted. It was just what he thought would most likely ensure him employment. He didn't even want to work for the LSF, but that was the best paid place. He couldn't leave either, not with all the military secrets, unless in a coffin. He didn't really know what job he even wanted to, but he had quit trying to think of it long ago. He had reconciled with the truth about life: work, rest, work, rest, repeat and put up with it until it is over. He did know, however, what he wanted to do at the very moment, and that was to call it a day and crack open a cold one with the boys.
As the fine Chief Levy was nonchalantly making his way out of the room, looking back at Reeves as to send him a silent message about the dramatic lack of beverages back there, in hangar bay, he bumped into a woman in flight-suit, followed by an officer. "Erh... Mi apologies, Ma'am." uttered the man while staring at the woman's chest. A large stain of motor oil indeed just decorated the flight-suit, for some reason. Levy sniffed noisily, which may have passed as a way to express commiseration for him. "I'd reckon it ain't as bad as it looks, Ma'am. Just some motor oil, yea..."
Our hero reached for a rag in one of his numerous pockets, which incidentally did not appear to be that dirty, and proceeded with rubbing it on the woman's chest "See? It's almost gone."
The woman did not reply until he was done, simply gazing at him while she was patiently waiting for him to finish the rubbing work. She then politely smiled, saying : "Thank you, Mr. ..?" "David Levy at yerr service, Milady.." "Thank you, Mr. Levy." replied calmly the woman, before eyeing at the people inside the room. "Good evening. I hope I'm not interrupting anything critical..?"
Meallan nodded at the bear of a man as he left, making a mental note to send the beer down. Nothing did hit the spot better than some cold ones after bay work. Before he could turn his head back at Avery, a small commotion was heard, right outside the door. An unknown woman just bumped into Levy. And he was now fiercely rubbing a rag all over her breasts. Meallan sipped his beer while watching the scene. "Lucky man. Or a very smart one." He thought.
Avery however was sighing at the whole scene, and rubbed his nose bridge with his eyes closed, obviously trying to shake the mental image of the Chief rubbing the woman breasts like was a dirty hull plate. The show finally ended and the woman spoke, obviously one of the operatives of the Agency. Meallan took the beer to his lips and rose his eyebrow. "What now?" His mind spoke again, leaving Avery to deal with her.
Before he answered, Avery noticed Levy was still hanging about outside the room, looking longingly at the beer can in his hand, to which he responded by shooing him away with a wave of the hand, the crew knew that when their Captain was annoyed enough to simply gesture at them rather than talk, that it was time to walk in the other direction and pray a reprimand didn't follow.
No you have not intruded into anything, Susan. But you've never visited the ship before, so you have made me the slightest bit curious about your sudden presence. It could yet again be noted that he was attempting to be friendly, Ward had been the one who recruited him and provided most of the helpful foundation that led to his current involvement in the Agency, in that sense there had always been a sense of gratefulness from his end in the sense of friendly informality.
Well then, Susan. What brings you by? With enough experience in the field, came the ability to read people, it would work on most if not all people but again that came down to the aforementioned trait. Having known Operative Ward for a while, some of her tells were known to him, but given her own skills, she would most likely also know how to pass a lie under the radar. It was hard to ever trust another Operative's intentions, even your own. It was always better to be sure and comforted by the certainty.
The woman didn't reply at once, taking instead a circular look to identify the persons present in the room. Her eyes studied Meallan Dagon, currently taking an advantageous pose. He suddenly smiled at her charmingly; a good gesture she did not reply to, maintaining a serene but rather strict and inscrutable body language.
Her eyes eventually moved to meet Avery's. "Mr. Reeves, I am pleased to meet you at last." she said before her lips formed the hint of a smile.
"Please accept my apologies, but I would like to talk to you in private... In a timely manner, of course."
Avery's almost raised an eyebrow at this statement. He was about to remind her again - for the one hundredth time - that he would be glad to hear her address him using his first-name. But it was certainly peculiar enough to see that very operative on the Revenant. Perhaps she was sent to deliver a top priority message or address a critical subject for the Agency... "Very well, then." eventually said, Avery. "Mallean, proceed with whatever it is you were working on. We will discuss later about your unreasonable demands..."
Mallean shrugged, knowing Reeves would give in eventually anyway. Once the two operatives left the room, he addressed Levy casually : "How was it..? You did that on purpose actually, didn't you?" "Who are ye, a cop or somethin'?" replied Levy turning away "Not goin' to answer any questions before there is a beer in mah hand, nope."
He shook his head and went to the fridge. Opening it up, he made a head count. Three in the span of five minutes. A man after his own heart. He grabbed another, and threw it at him. "Don't kiss and tell, chief." Meallan said, while grabbing his and turning to the planning table. Levy walked in and opened with a satisfying sound. The Nyx blueprint was slowly spinning, showing the details. "We got our work cut out for the next weeks." Meallan sipped his beer. "I ain't aiming to get it rebuilt, chief. I'm aiming higher. How about cranking a solid ship out of your bay for once?" Levy looked at the blueprint and walked towards the planning table and with his free hand he zoomed in the joints of the main body.