Cheery Dispositions
Cheery Dispositions
Summary: Fresca meets Commodore Claybourne and his cheery disposition.
Date: 2111 Hours 2657.340
Related Logs: None

On the Ready Line of the TCN Majestic…

Fresca keeps an eye on the other two, her nose wrinkling briefly as she listens to Hylanen. "I see," she says softly. "If you could say something to the folks back home, what would it be?" she asks the man, camera still aimed at him. "And then I think we should move out of this not-ready room, so that my toes they remain safe, si?" It's a thought, if you ask her. Wallace and Raine have already stepped out of the way, there are a couple bags at Fresca's feet, Hylanen has one that looks like it might be a little heavy, and the young fashionable reporter has her camera quite squarely focused on Hylanen. To the exclusion of the rest of the ready room and anything in it. Including rabbits, should there be any.

"Oh?" Raine tilts her head at Wallace. She smiles back at him. "You're really industrious," She comments quietly. There's no rabbits. Mercifully. And she's sadly bonsai-treeless. "That's impressive." Beam. Then she looks more serious, "I don't think I can honestly answer that. The hard part seems to be that it ebbs and flows. When we had all those miners and others, I was pulling double shifts constantly. I think it felt like I was operating on my feet and reflexes sometimes," She admits. She stays out of the way too, content to chat with the 'stache. "It all seems so large… I feel like a grain of sand."

Dante stalks the readyline like a gunslinger walking into a saloon. The walk? Totally has the strut. What the man needs is a cowboy hat and a revolver, truth be told. He hasn't got either. At least not at the moment. Instead he's dressed in the uniform of a Commodore, and he stops a good fifty feet back to speak to one of the deck crew. That goes on for a good fifteen seconds and culminates with said deck hand pointing towards the group assembled in the ready line. Dante nods to him and starts right this way.

"Industrious, ma'am? Negative. I am simply not a lazy sow." A smile, and Wallace's eyes shift toward the incoming Commodore. He straightens up, of course…but not being under-arms, he doesn't salute. He's a marine, after all. Behind the small group, a transport continues to offload personnel, and supplies for the upcoming campaign in Troy. "Ms. DeValeris? I do hate to interrupt your interview…with the surely fascinating Private…but, I suspect a better story is en route to our position." A smirk forms beneath the NCOs 'stache.

"To the folks back home…" comes the quiet words from Hylanen. "I guess that would be, 'I'm still here', or something like that."

Fresca lets Hylanen say what he wishes to, that's simple enough. "Grazie, Private Hylanen. I am sure we will have opportunity to speak at length another time. And you as well, Sergeant Major, though - " And then the camera is pointed down at the floor momentarily, as she gives Wallace a puzzled look. "It is I do not understand?" she starts, looking to Raine to clear up the confusion. At least it does occur to her to turn to look and see who might be behind her, giving her a clear view of the incoming Commodore. Oh. "Why is it you did not just say that there is someone approaching? And pardon me, but who is this?" The camera is up reflexively, as she films the approach, actually zooming in on the commodore's face for a moment.

Dante steps directly up to the group, seeming to see only Fresca to the point where he almost steps on an intervening foot, "You the so and so from the broadcast network?" Dante Claybourne's voice is the tenor twang of southern discomfort. He's higher pitched than one commonly expects a cowboy to be, but sounds like one, regardless. Just enough accent and drawl to make it evident where he's coming from. The man looks like he wants to spit, "Reckon I'm supposed to give a how-you-do. Recommend you turn that off, because some of what I'm about to tell you are things you gotta know if you're on this ship that can't get out to the good folks at home or else a lot of men and women are gonna die."

"Hah… you're too hard on yourself," She smiles at Wallace. Wait, her commander. Raine almost flaps comically, straightening up. Salute! Right! She pauses and looks to Fresca, "He's very modest. But he means to say one of our commanders is here, the Commodore himself." She tilts her head towards Dante. She's apparently not fast enough, going quiet. Fade into the background. Be as the bonsai. No really. She's actually about that still. Raine puts chameleons to shame.

There is a distinct frown beneath Wallace's mustache…he can't abide Dante's tone or words with the reporter. He doesn't actively voice his disapproval, of course…but he isn't attempting to hide it, either. E-9s aren't intimidated by O-7s, for obvious reasons. Instead, he glances to Raine, and lifts an eyebrow? Modest? David? As if.

Fresca keeps the camera on, at least for the entire speech from Dante so far. She offers a smile of all things, full of enough charm to be from charm school. The woman speaks with an Italian accent, as she says, "How do you do? I am, I would suppose, the so-and-so - from the news agency. Francesca deValeris, and pleased to meet you." The camera is at this point turned off, as per request. And to make it obvious, Fresca actually puts the lens cap on, and then puts the entire contraption away, back in its carrying case. See - she's not getting anyone killed. No no, not her. "I begin to think there is not enough wine in the universe," she says, half under her breath. But she does gamely hold a hand out to shake, just in case. And hey, hopefully he didn't step on her toes, so she's now one up. Or something. "It is quite a busy place, I am certain that there is much for me to learn." For now, she's on her best behavior, genial and only a little bit flirtatious.

Dante has to look down at the offered hand for a few moments before he takes it, "Commodore Claybourne. I ain't a man of too many words when only a few will do you, so I'll be brief." The tone of his voice begins to imply it won't be a terribly pleasant 'few words'. "Stay off of the bridge, stay out of the map room, and never point that freakin' thing at anything that looks like naval intelligence or God himself ain't lifting a finger to save you because the sonnovabitch is on our side." His eyes may as well glow a bit, "I get complaints about you, you'll hear 'em twice as loud. You step in some shit, I'll rub your face in it like a dog. You do anything to jeopardize the war effort and the human race…" He waves again, leaving it at that. "You prepared to deal with a Kilrathi boarding party? Can you shoot a gun? They put you through basic before making us babysit you?"

What? Raine blinks at Wallace. She's clearly a fan of the 'stache. Forget baseball stars and singers, she looks up to the older Marine. Fresca is an object of curiosity. Raine seems to recognize the charm school bits, although she just seems sort of cautious. The Commodore's speech makes her jaw drop a little. Oh dear. Her eyes widen. Could Dante shoot eye lazers too? My god. COMMAND SHOOTS EYE LAZERS. That's how they do it! She just looks back to Wallace with a little bit of wonder. A shrug.

Fresca glances over at the oh so still Raine and her brow furrows slightly. She actually moves a bit in front of the other woman, almost protectively. That furrowed brow is still on her face as she turns back to the commodore, listening to what he says. It is as he gets to the end of his little spiel that the brow clears up. "It is good. You are the type to call a spade a club. Very well, this is not unexpected. I can shoot a gun, a little, but non, I have no basic - whatever that is." Non-military and no clue about it, that would sum it up. "But if you are babysitting me, I can say that I prefer red wine, dry, and candlelit dinner." Okay, maybe she is going to flirt, just in retaliation. Her eyes gleam with amusement and then she sobers slightly. "No bridge, no map room, and no military intelligence. Si. That is clear. May I request that someone please let me know if I have gotten too close to such things without knowing? Also, if you wish, I will ensure that you have, or whoever you wish, an opportunity to see the news clips before I send them? Would that be acceptable?" Very much willing to work with the team, she is, and her smile is bright and hopeful. Even with that grouchiness already displayed, because it couldn't by any means be because of it, could it?

Dante appears impassive in the face of flirtation. It's not that he's not a man, or he's too old or anything. He just looks too angry, though her general response appears to calm him down considerably. He's downgraded from 'ire and fire' to 'deployed and annoyed'. "Talk to Captain Gruder. He heads up the marine corp on this ship. He's your primary support contact and you should have some sort of basic training if you're on this ship. If things get ugly, they get ugly. You're with the marines, so you're mostly his problem. I'll put out a general memo about you, but if nobody stops you and you still go somewhere you shouldn't, it's still on you." He breathes deeply, then exhales, "And I ain't got time to read your shit. Lieutenant O'Neill will do that. Wanna remind you that the troopers on this ship got two jobs… ground projection, and ship security. If you go with them on the former, you're gonna wish you had basic, because the fleabags don't give a rats ass if your name is Pamela Pleasant or Private Rottencrotch. -Don't- make the latter any harder. Do that and we'll get along fine."

Uh huh. Fresca actually gives Dante a very puzzled look for a long moment, as it takes her quite a bit of effort to translate that lot into Italian so it makes sense. Mostly. And hopefully she gets at least the important parts right, because given the amount of non-standard - her English might not be quite up to that. "Grazie, Commodore," she says, taking a step closer and looking up at the man. Is she serious about the flirtation? No. But she is subtly flirting. "Are all of the command staff quite so expressive with their speech?" she asks, curious to know just how much editing she might have to do when taping. "I shall speak with Captain Gruder when I have the opportunity, and Lieutenant O'Neill will no doubt be my best friend." Whoever that might be. Cause you know, if O'Neill is going to be watching her clips before they're sent, well, that might put them in contact quite a bit. "Perhaps a tour of all the safe places on the ship?" she suggests. Flirt or not, she is still concentrating on work, filing away what information she can get. "Perhaps the dotore, and the sergeant major might be convinced?" Not that they're any help, leaving her to the tender mercies of the commodore, and yes, Fresca has caught that. "I should like very much to get along just fine, commodore. At the least."

A few blinks. Raine seems surprised by Fresca's reaction but she smiles a little. The flighty type, but she's perceptive at least. Daw. The exchange makes her blink a few times. She seems distracted, as if looking for something. Shoot, Kessel's gonna have her head on a stick if those supplies don't get there. She furrows her eyebrows. If Fresca flirts, Raine is oblivious. She just sees a rather friendly lady with an Italian accent. Ayup. Somethings go flying over her head. Still looking for those boxes. She curls her fingers a bit. "Hmmm…" Darnit.

Dante levels his gaze at Fresca, "Only the ones who know better. Only the ones who know better. O'Neill's our communications officer. You'll find her up on CIC, where you aren't allowed to go. I'll let her know to find you. As for a tour of the ship… marines. They'll do it. If the Sergeant Major wants to take you out for a stroll, that's his prerogative." He listens to the rest of Fresca's words and tilts his head downwards, as if to ask 'what are you getting at?'. "At the most. I keep trying to call you by your rank but you ain't got one. Freaking mindjob this is."

Did the new girl just try to volunteer Wallace for something? All of the sudden, the imperturbable Sergeant Major actually looks like he is experiencing discomfort. He was was just here to meet and greet….Gruder got to deal with the headaches, darnit. Or some Lieutenant with more fuzz on his chin than his butt. "I could show you around for a short time, Ma'am. I am sure to have a mountain of paperwork, once my Corporals get this…" A gesture toward the trickle of personnel still passing…"processed, and berthed. But, I can find an LT to show you about, with a little more detail." His time is far more valuable than a fresh-faced LT, obviously.

And, just to make Raine feel better, apparently…a naval NCO from the transport approaches the group, trying to avoid the senior officer, as he extends a pad toward her…"Doctor?" A look over at one of the techs working to offload the goods…"The Spacehand suggested you might be waiting to sign for twelves crates of bandages, three crates of cotton swabs, and ten gross of prophylactics." He looks hopeful. He really wants to get done, so he can get off the carrier, and back to the rear echelon.

Poor Wallace. Raine just smiles at him, "She might get bunkered with the medical and support staff anyway." And most of that is likely officer territory. Wallace would be a new betta in the jar. "So someone who could take her that way would be a good idea," Offering some help. "There's not a huge amount of us." Thus, the most space. Eh? Hey wait! That's her! She's definitely a doctor! Raine makes a soft 'oh' noise and turns around. "That's me!" She smiles. "I was looking all over for -" At the talk of prophylactics, she turns red. "Y-yeah, that's them." Apparently the last date she ever had involved either carbon 14 or fruit. Maybe a fossil. Cough. She slips a pen from her pocket. "Here, where do I sign? I'm hoping I didn't keep you too long."

Okay, that actually makes Fresca laugh, a light joyful sound. She can't help it. "It is not my fault I do not have a rank, but would not Ms suffice, Commodore?" See, she is trying to be helpful. "Or you could call me Fresca, as my friends do." There, the man has options. She wrinkles her nose as she listens to the bit about CIC - whatever that is. "I am not allowed cookies in cream?" she asks, a little doubtfully, thinking that can't quite be right. "Ah, but if you will let O'Neill know, that will be quite acceptable. Grazie." She pauses a moment, as the sergeant major speaks up, and then turns an amused expression his way. "And thank you as well, Sergeant Major. I am certain I will get used to all these ranks and files and titles and long names, over time. I do not know how you all manage to keep it all straight, with as busy as you must be. I promise not to take much of your time, unless of course you would like me to." Raine's distracted and that's okay, though Fresca doesn't bat an eye at the list of incoming supplies. Maybe her English isn't up to it? Well, maybe…

"Combat Information Center." corrects Dante with… well it's not exactly a sigh, but it certainly sounds like he's a little bit annoyed. "It's one of the nervecenters on the ship. But yeah. I'll do that. As you were. I got about ten other fires to put out on this damned boat and I ain't even had dinner yet." He shakes his head and scowls off. Some people call him the space cowboy. Some call him the gangster of love.

"Not the most pleasant of officers, I'm afraid, Ms." Directed toward Fresca, Wallace doesn't seem entirely disapproving in his assertion, either. It is just an observation from the old hand. "You'll get the hang of it, ma'am. Once you get your footing, you'll find there are ways to deal with the officers, and way to deal with those of us that work for a living…" A pause, and the NCO does smile at the Doctor in the group, adding for honesty's sake…"Though, Doctor Winterson is an officer, she is also a professional, that works her backside off. Officers in roles like Doctors, and Engineers tend to be a little different than the rest, ma'am." A lot of words for the frequently laconic man, and now he waits for Raine to finish…"The Private can take your bags to your berth, if you'd like? I suspect the first place to show you would be the First and Last…if the CIC is the nervecenter…the F&L is the heart of the Majestic, ma'am." Any comment on Raine's blushing reaction is politely forgone by Wallace…he'd never embarrass her like that!

"Right here, Doctor.And then just initial for each item type." A pause, and the Spacehand, noting Raine's discomfort, adds…"Now, be extra careful on those initials, Ma'am. There are six different categories for the prophylactics. They are separated by size, colour and material. They each need initialed." He looks toward the NCO, and winks. Which draws forth an EPIC MUSTACHE SCOWL from David, and a step is taken toward the delivery swabbie, on the part of the Marine. The swabbie is likely to beat a hasty retreat, once he gets the initials.

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