(Untitled)

[not_inkansas]

There is a Colonel in the Bar. Currently, that Colonel is eating breakfast, having just finished a (slightly abbreviated) morning run...he was hoping to try the door again, but it was another bust this morning

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[tanyadams]

Distraction.

Well, Tanya has been hiding in Milliways for a while: resting and recovering from ten years of almost-nonstop war. Over her vacation, she relearned to eat well, and to sleep more, but none of those things changes the fact she's a killer.

She moves like one.

She looks around like one.

And she still carries her guns all the time: it's an habit, even if the double shoulder holsters clash with her flannel pajamas.

[not_inkansas]

Quaritch's sidearm is in a holster that...well, what he's wearing doesn't clash with it nearly so badly. The obvious fashion mismatch on Tanya does catch his attention, making about as much sense to him as a flak vest and shorts. And as his attention is grabbed, it draws a nod to her as he notices how she moves...

"Morning."

[tanyadams]

The woman nods back, tasking a seat at the bar and ordering breakfast. "Morning."

"Eggs, bacon, toast and coffee."

Truth be said, she'd feel more naked without weapons than without clothes.

[not_inkansas]

As Tanya settles in with her breakfast, Quaritch finishes munching on his.

"If you don't mind me asking, why the double holster?"

Go figure...Quaritch has a setup that he prefers...and that tends to involve fewer guns and more ammo. Then again, when you're dealing with wildlife that occasionally doesn't want to go down, let alone stay down, that tends to affect your preferences.

[remindmeof_me]

Well, there's always Satan's own Christmas ham*. The three-legged, blue-striped, alien dog-thing with no visible head and a front end full of eyeballs is wearing a bright orange safety harness today, with the eagle, globe, and anchor emblem of the Corps visible on one side. Adrian's not far behind- he's just watching to make sure she knows how to behave herself in an overstimulating environment.

*Nobody ever said Adrian Shephard was particularly sentimental when it came to nicknames.

[not_inkansas]

Quaritch notices the...thing with the Marine Corps emblem on the side, and notices Adrian a moment later. Both get a nod...Quaritch would consider offering the houndeye something to eat, except:
A) He doesn't know what they eat;
B) He's not quite sure how the houndeye will eat it; and
C) As the houndeye has the Corps logo, he can only assume that Adrian is planning on some sort of military purpose for it. Therefore, feeding it might cause some sort of training complications with the houndeye and Adrian, and he does not want to cause that. Not in the least.

So it is Adrian that gets the overt acknowledgment instead of the houndeye.

"Morning, Shephard."

[remindmeof_me]

"Mornin', sir," Shephard responds. "Mrs. Wilson, sit."

The houndeye does.

"Hope she ain't botherin' you, sir. She's been all antsy back on board the Borealis'n I don't dare let her run around loose while we're in Australia."

[not_inkansas]

"Not at all." The houndeye gets a nod from Quaritch as it does as Shephard commands. "I wasn't sure if you were training her, and I didn't want to risk interfering or I'd have offered her some food."

Not that he'd know what a houndeye would do once trained or how you'd train it to do whatever you'd train it to do. He just didn't want to get in the way.

"I also don't know what she eats."

[boston_bruiser]

The huge machine gun situated on a nearby table might get the good Colonel's attention.

If not, the 6' 2" man BDU-clad man performing maintenance on it almost certainly will.

[not_inkansas]

The man definitely gets a sharp look when Quaritch catches him out of the corner of his eye, and a respectful nod.

"Morning." The maintenance bit immediately brings up memories of the last gun Quaritch had to unjam in here...and had to get help from a Na'vi to get the gunk pulled out when the usual cleaners just wouldn't dislodge the garbage.

[boston_bruiser]

"Mornin'," Voodoo grunts in response. Truth be told, he's never sure what time it is anymore, but he's not one to argue about it. Especially when he's handling industrial-grade solvents.

[not_inkansas]

As Quaritch finishes the last of his breakfast (not that there was much left, nor that he'd let it keep him too much longer anyway), he steps over to examine the gun...while making a point not to distract the owner until he's at a clear stopping point. Ok, it's probably not as powerful as some of the guns he's used to seeing, and it's definitely not as modern, but it's still a solid piece of hardware.

[hallelujahpilot]

At some point, he's joined by a pilot. She's aware of him, vaguely, but she's concentrating more on getting some breakfast herself.

She doesn't have time today back on Hell's Gate. Too busy. Far too busy doing some much overdue maintenance on Maya, which also explains where she's covered in oil and grime and looking like she just walked out of a garage.

[not_inkansas]

Quaritch looks over at Trudy as she appears, noting the grime.

"The uniform is regulation, but I don't recall any general issue dirt being passed out." The Colonel deadpans as usual...he knows it's standard maintenance stuff that happens, but his mood is such that a bit of fun can't hurt, right?

[hallelujahpilot]

"New initiative, sir. We're givin' it a test run before we present it for Selfridge's approval," she snarks back without losing a beat.

[not_inkansas]

"Then by all means, carry on." Beat. "So, how many hours of maintenance are you behind schedule on?"