trans_9 | Business as usual

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Business as usual

Grif is sprawled out on an Obs Deck couch, this may be one of the biggest signs of the return to normalcy on the ship. He's wearing his armor and... playing with some kind of handheld game system he found.

Occasionally a plume of smoke gusts out of his helmet's air filters.

Yes. He's smoking. In his helmet. It's a talent.

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Unfortunately for Grif, Samus has decided to make an appearance on the Obs Deck. It is also worth noting that she has a friend. How odd. She might have been making casual conversation with him until she spotted Grif being unproductive as usual. She sighed internally.

"Introduce you to my team members," she muttered over to Adam. She looked over at team member number one, "Grif."

Adam couldn't help but chuckle a little to himself. He recognized Samus' exasperation, even if it might not have been as apparent to others. He was also fairly certain he knew the reason for the exasperation, considering the "team member" wasn't doing anything. My, how time had changed Lady.

Adam saluted (his usual greeting, a force of habit at this point), looking at the man Samus had addressed as "Grif". "General Adam Malkovich," he stated to the man.

Grif looks up from the game at his name, pausing whatever it is. Thanks Samus, he was in a groove and he'll probably die now whenever he picks it back up.

He looks at Samus, then at Adam.

"To you," he says to Samus, "what do you want?"

Then at Adam, "To you, hi." General, huh? That doesn't sound like good news. Grif's experience hs taught him that the further you go up the chain of command, the crazier the person you're talking to.

What? Samus can't just give a friendly hello to him? ...oh. Right.

"Just making a stop to tell you we have practice soon. And remind you that it is not optional." This is what she has to deal with every day. It wears her down.

"What if I don't want to go?" he asks earnestly. "You know what happens to me when I go to practices. It's just better if I don't."

Oh, this one was just priceless. If he was the sort of man who believed in karma, Adam would find this cosmic retribution for the way Samus had behaved in her early days in the Federation. But where it stood...

"Soldier, are you or are you not speaking to your commanding officer?" he asked, his tone stern and with a hint of threat, although he never once rose his voice. "When a commanding officer issues an order, it is not the subordinate's job to argue. It is the subordinate's job to say 'yes, sir' and do as he is told, or face disciplinary action. Do I make myself clear?"

Grif sizes Adam up. Tilts his head to one side. Exhales some smoke.

"You're not in my army," he says. "And if you were I wouldn't listen to you anyway, because the army doesn't exist anymore. My universe is dead. So who said you're the boss of me?"

"Soldier, I may be new around these parts, but I can already tell order and structure are necessary for keeping this ship operational and safe," Adam continued to lecture, his patience further slipping. "I may not be the boss of you, but as far as you're concerned, this lady is. You will address your superiors with due respect, or I will personally teach you the concept of respect. Do I make myself clear?"

Wow. For being a brat in her younger years, Samus realizes that she sure got off easy. Not to mention the fact that even though she could have probably taken care of this herself... it was actually kind of nice to have someone on her side. It was an added perk that it was someone she respected as much as Adam.

She doesn't say anything yet. She was waiting for Grif's response.

"Okay look. Threatening me doesn't work because Stacy's not going to let anybody hit me. So this "personally teaching me respect" thing isn't gonna do much for ya," says Grif.

"And think about it. If the big scary lady with the arm cannon can't get me to do something, what makes you think you can?"

"Who said anything about violence?" Adam asks the young recruit. "Did I say anything about violence? You lack imagination, soldier. Not a good thing for the battle field, and all the more reason why you should listen to me, and to your superior officers."

He gestures with his head toward Samus. "Why don't you ask the big, scary lady with the arm cannon exactly who I am?"

"How else are you gonna get me to do anything?" Grif says flatly. "I never volunteered to be on a $%#&ing battle field. I was drafted. Hell, I'm double drafted between this ship and the army."

But he'll humor him.

"Samus, who is this guy and how do you think he's gonna make me listen to you?"

"This is General Adam Malkovich. He is my commanding officer," present tense, Adam, she still respects him more than anyone. "I listen to him, you're sure as hell going to, too."

Samus leans in, eyes blazing behind the faceplate, "You may not have asked to be here. No one did. But you are. We are all. You can ignore that fact all you want, but it doesn't change that this is a matter of survival."

She straightens up, "And in the event that you choose not to cooperate, I'm sure Stacy would be willing to withdraw your access to crew lounge."

Your food, Grif, and your cigarettes. She knows you now.

"And put that cigarette out," Adam adds. Not that he wants to detract from Lady's magnificent moment, but seeing the recruit vent smoke from under his helmet was getting on his nerves. He saw enough of that in the stupid Federation troopers. "Kill yourself if you want to, but if you ruin your lungs you'll be useless to everyone."

That crew lounge threat was a very, very good threat.

He sighs.

"Fine. But whoever's idea it was to rely on me for their survival? Is a dumbass."

"And what makes you think my lungs aren't already ruined, huh?" he adds as an afterthought jab to Adam, though it's a lie. Grif still has yet to do completely irreparable harm to Simmons' former lungs.

She agrees with the dumbass sentiment, but will just be rolling her eyes under her helmet. Ignoring his quips might be the best quips might be the best way to shut him up.

"Practice in the sensoriums. I'm sending the details to your omni comm now. I expect you to be there, Grif. That is all."

"Hey."

Scout appeared. Out of nowhere. Or he might as well have. He's peering over the meatcouch at you, Grif.

"Hey," Grif replies, looking up from whatever he's playing. "What's up?"

Scout made a good impression by agreeing with him earlier. So for now, he's cool in Grif's book.

"Checkin' out this ship, haven't seen anything that ain't horrendously boring yet. What the hell are we supposed to do to keep from dropping dead from boredom?"

"Hey man, it's better than zombies." Grif shrugs, blowing out another puff of smoke.

"I sleep. I complain. I argue with people. But yeah, it's boring as hell here."

"Hey, where the hell'd you get smokes from?" Share please!

"Crew lounge," Grif replies. "There's also food in there. I officially love the crew lounge."

"Dude. Seriously? Be right back." And he's off ~~Woosh!~~

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