Strike Two
Strike Two
Summary: Trey is like the terminator. He can't be bargained with. He can't be reasoned with. He doesn't feel pity, or remorse, or fear. And he absolutely will not stop, ever, until you are in bed with him.
Date: 0026 Hours 2657.323
Related Logs: Strike Series

Trey is no eagle, but he's landed. Getting out of his Scimitar turns out to be easier, rather than harder. He just unbuckles himself, stands up, and walks down the nose of the battered craft. Once he's back in atmosphere, he pulls his helmet off and you know, for a rookie's first time out? Well the first thing is that he doesn't smell, so he hasn't shit himself. He doesn't look scared, or jittery, or like much of anything happened at all. It's kind of warped, "I'm over here." He salutes the 1st Lieutenant, which is where the second odd thing about him stands out. He can't seem to salute without looking like a swashbuckling.. well, look. Just give the man a cloak and a longsword, okay? Dashing pirate indeed. God, some people.

Pickett pops his canopy, standing up and stretching a little, idly removing his helmet and gloves. The helmet with gloves inside is dropped back into his chair before he climbs out, taking a moment to survey the damage to his craft, pausing to give the nose art on his fighter an affectionate slap on the backside.

Melia makes her way down the steps from vultures row two at a time and comes to a halt next to where Pickett is inspecting his fighter. "Don't tell me the other guys looks worse." She says with a grin to the Major. "You guys, need anything?" She asks, glancing around, hoping noone is on their way to medical this time.

"I don't…" Xiang starts to answer Aquilina. But Trey actually landing makes her trail off to watch that. She eyes the Scimitar's approach with a visible touch of apprehension. That thing took a beating. A faint smile comes to her lips as he touchs down without incident. She inclines her head to the Second Lieutenant. The salute gets an arched brow. But it seems to fall within the bounds of protocol-correct, so she can't knock it.

Aquilina turns around at the call of a wounded Scimitar touching down. Sounds sort of like an elk in heat. "Well, yes you are," he calls back to Grayson, voice raising easily to be heard. "Brilliant last shot, rookie, absolutely lovely. You'd think the thing had done you wrong. Ought to call you Vengeance, or Jilted Wife or something."

Trey blinks, "What, really?" This, at least, sucks all the cool right out of the rook, "Oh. Well, alright. I honestly didn't think much of it either way." Nope! It was just a thing. DOing his job. He's not utterly scared shitless inside at all! No sirrie! "I mean, he was pretty obviously boned no matter what he did. Uh… so, what is it we're supposed to do now?"

"The other guy /always/ looks worse" Pickett replies to Melia with a little grin. "And the only thing that I need about now is a shower, I think" he adds, before he can't help but lob over into the other conversation. "And I was going to suggest calling him 'Sloppy' since he had to wait until everyone else got their turn with it"

Melia looks over her shoulder as Pickett does and sees an unfamilar face. "Oh giving the cheery his callsign?" She asks, with an evil grins, then nods towards the steps. "Shower, food?" She asks, quietly.

"I wouldn't have thought a craft that had taken that kind of punishment could aim straight, let alone…" Xiang lets out another of those low whistles. "Yes. Lieutenant Aquilina is quite right. That was excellently done. Graysen, was it?" She missed the introductions. Aquilina is *eyed* for the Jilted Wife suggestion. Sniff. She shoots another of those slight smiles to Melia, nodding. Then a sympathetic look back to Trey. "It was a one-in-a-thousand hit. I rather like 'Chance' myself."

"Zing." Aquilina makes the sound out of the side of his mouth at Pickett, smirking. He catches Xiang looking at him, shooting back a 'what, ME?' sort of look, then unfolds his arms and rolls his shoulders. "Now? You go take a shot for each kill, and pray you're not a lightweight. Marinating in your own stench optional while you do it. Jenthson seems to like that sort of thing, hair on your chest kind of deal." His tone clearly thinks that's disgusting.

"Well, uh…" Trey peers back at his busted up ride, "I sort of didn't expect I'd get that good a view of the fight. But it came out okay, so I guess there's nothing to worry about. I kinda -did- get lucky, though." He steps towards Xiang, smiles brightly, and adds, "Can call me Chance. Can call me anything you like, actually." Utterly shameless. The disarming smile that follows after is just as bad, but he has the sort of face, voice, and demeanor that lets him get away with such things, not to mention the brass ones to say it in public like that.

Xiang's brows arch, precipitously, at Trey. She smirks, extending a hand for him to shake. "First Lieutenant Xiang Jia. Callsign Verdict." As always, she intros her callsign with a certain amount of ruefulness. "Pleasure." Her manner is crisply professional, but friendly enough for a fellow pilot.

Aquilina snorts quietly. "Hasn't anyone told you that going around liking a callsign is the surest way to prevent it from sticking? You've got lessons to learn around here. Where the hell did you come from, anyway?"

"Second Lieutenant Trey Grayson. It's a pleasure." One could almost predict that Trey gives Xiang's hand warmer-than-it-has to be pump, and that he holds it for just a second longer than he's supposed to. He smiles at her, too. And then he turns towards Aquilina, "Huh? Oh. Space." He shrugs and is probably aware that he's attracting attention to himself, but doesn't seem to mind it, either. "I was a trader. And then a privateer. And then confed drafted me. I'm used to frigates."

Xiang's grip is firm, for her part. Another inclination of her head as her arm drops back to her side. "Drafted?" She processes that, nodding a little to herself. "We took on another draftee just recently. Lieutenant Fawkes. The Space Force must really be pushing to fill out the ranks. Well. Welcome, in any case."

Aquilina has fished a cigarette from his front pocket by this point. There's always one there when he goes out on a flight, and it's always horribly bent by the end, shedding bits of tobacco. It's lit anyway though, with his purple flower lighter, and then that's tucked back into his shirt pocket. "You poor bastard. Anyway. Lovely as standing about the deck is, it's cutting into quality time somewhere that involves neither standing nor being completely sober." He makes a hat-tip motion to Xiang and slides a hand into his pocket. "First and last, I shall see you later…" His pale eyes flicker between the two of them, knowingly. "…or not." He smirks grandly, starting off with smoke following.

"Okay, sir. Thanks for saving my life. Let's do it again some time!" He smiles to the man and salutes, looking (again) oddly and unintentionally dramatic while he does it. Go figure. He then turns to Xiang who, unfortunately for her, is basically left alone with him, "So, did you earn that pretty face with your rank, or did you enter basic with it?" Jesus christ.

Xiang blinks after Aquilina, eyes narrowed in a 'Wha?' sort of confusion for that last remark. Sailed right over her head, that did. "I should hit the showers myself. I…" Off she trails. Eyes shifting back to Trey. "Are you…flirting with me, Lieutenant?" She doesn't sound offended, particularly. Though there's a somewhat robotic note in her tone. Like she's processing that notion through her brain.

Aquilina is probably laughing his ass off. No…no, he definitely is. Maybe that deckhand over there made a silly face.

Trey smiles to Xiang, tilting his head at her when she says 'showers'. "Well, I don't see anyone -else- here with my undivided attention. I'd say I am!"

"Forward, aren't you, Lieutenant Graysen?" Xiang uses his rank with a crisp sort of professionalism. "I'm flattered, and all of that, but I usually keep my relationships with my fellow pilots professional. It saves a great deal of bother. In any case, I did mean it when I said welcome aboard the Majestic. If you ever require assistance with anything on duty, I would be more than happy to oblige." A slight inclination of her head to him. And then, she's off.

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