theatrical_muse #207: Control
He has his moments, of course. Moments when even he flies off the handle or lets things slip through his fingers. That's just Human nature.
But most of the time, he has every bit of his life under control.
He has a routine that he follows almost every day. Wake up at 0500 sharp. Go to gym and work out for 30 minutes. Shower. Even for his uniform, there's a personal protocol, an order to it, right up to the zipper tucked just under the second button of his shirt, right down to the shining of his shoes before he puts them on. Breakfast. On duty at 0630.
And he has to admit even to himself that being in command of the massive weaponry under them was a bit awe-inspiring.
Things change from day to day, of course, depending on where they go, who they run into, but on the rest of the mundane days, lunch happens at right around the same time, as does supper, right after he gets off duty, and even during meals, he works on duty rosters, upgrades, reports. Paperwork without the paper. This is what is done also after supper, usually until they are complete, and then it's back to the gym for another half hour, another shower, and then finally time to relax, some time to himself, usually taken up by reading or one of Trip's movie nights. Lights out at 2300 sharp. (It used to be 2200, when he was younger, still a cadet, or even still at home, but he runs just as easily on less sleep, and he didn't have nearly as much work or life-or-death situations to deal with back then.)
There's something comforting about doing the same thing tomorrow--albeit always slightly varied. It was better than anyone taking a shot at them, at least. It made for a sense of normality; it made for a sense of readiness; it made for a sense of security.
But most of the time, he has every bit of his life under control.
He has a routine that he follows almost every day. Wake up at 0500 sharp. Go to gym and work out for 30 minutes. Shower. Even for his uniform, there's a personal protocol, an order to it, right up to the zipper tucked just under the second button of his shirt, right down to the shining of his shoes before he puts them on. Breakfast. On duty at 0630.
And he has to admit even to himself that being in command of the massive weaponry under them was a bit awe-inspiring.
Things change from day to day, of course, depending on where they go, who they run into, but on the rest of the mundane days, lunch happens at right around the same time, as does supper, right after he gets off duty, and even during meals, he works on duty rosters, upgrades, reports. Paperwork without the paper. This is what is done also after supper, usually until they are complete, and then it's back to the gym for another half hour, another shower, and then finally time to relax, some time to himself, usually taken up by reading or one of Trip's movie nights. Lights out at 2300 sharp. (It used to be 2200, when he was younger, still a cadet, or even still at home, but he runs just as easily on less sleep, and he didn't have nearly as much work or life-or-death situations to deal with back then.)
There's something comforting about doing the same thing tomorrow--albeit always slightly varied. It was better than anyone taking a shot at them, at least. It made for a sense of normality; it made for a sense of readiness; it made for a sense of security.