Publicity
Publicity
Arc: None
Summary: A Documentarian visits the First and Last and talks to several personnel including several pilots from the 1087th.
Date: 2658.149
Related Logs: None
Participants: Andy Alec Paz Phillip Trey Sergey Kayly

The second the camera is pointing at Trey is when the guy's jaw… well, it doesn't drop, actually. In fact, it tightens a little bit. The guy has been subsisting on absurdly light sleep like most of the pilots, lately. His eyes are cracked and bloodshot, his skin's pale in some places, blotchy in the others. He's not even bothering to shave, so he's got two day's worth of stubble that says 'unkempt' more than 'rebel'. "No. It's Rogue." He turns towards the bar. Away from the camera, and sips his beer the moment it arrives. His face is 100 percent poker. "If you want to talk to someone interesting, talk to Beagle over there," he points to Alec, and then spots Paz out the corner of his eye, "Or that chick. Tizona. She's a fighter ace." He avoids looking at the camera in any way, shape, or form.

"Hey, whoa, wait a second!" Paz protests, putting up a hand in front of her face to shield herself from view. "You could at least lemme get something to drink first," she grumbles, making her way towards the bar. "Thanks, Slop." she fires to Trey, rolling her eyes a little. "Jeez…and here I've been being nice to him."

Alec rolls his eyes at the happenings at the bar, perhaps not hearing the words but getting the body language easy enough. He grimaces a little, ducking his head and getting back to his Solitaire at the poker table. "And Sloppy ejects," the bomber pilot quips. "SAR have no signal, unlikely we'll ever see him again… what a shame, what a shame…"

"Rogue? That sounds…dangerous, and exciting." Andy's comment sounds less forced, this go round…and while he -does- look in the direction of Alec, and then Paz, as they are indicated….the man's insistence that a new target is found for the interview is even more captivating. "I'm Lieutenant Bernard, Rogue. I'm here to show the folks back home just what our heroes on the front are doing to provide them the peace of mind to sleep easy, at night." A smile for the camera, and a slight nod toward the reluctant pilot tells the camera man to return focus on Trey. "Modesty is a wonderful virtue, pilot. But, I implore you…tell me about Majestic, and what serving aboard her has meant for you."

Sergey furrows his brows at Alec's comments, but understands the 'I'm not here' vibe he's trying to give off so he sits up a little and pulls in closer to the table. "Who's the guy with the yo-yo?" he doesn't quite whisper.

Phillip walks into the room, notices that group…and the camera. Iceblade moves toward the group, just in time to hear the question regarding what the military does to provide increased safety, "Patrols," Iceblade says in a slightly louder voice, so that he can be heard. He then turns to the barkeep and asks for a glass of cola.

Kayly makes her way to a table far, far away from any cameras, and sets her glass of soda down on it, before taking a seat. She grimaces a bit, as she stretches out, and then picks up the glass again to take a sip from it. Eyes flicking back over the people gathered in the lounge.

Trey closes his eyes, then opens them long enough to slide his beer down the bar towards Paz. It's a mostly full pint of dark stout. "How much does that camera cost? I have disposable income and nothing to spend it on except beer. I'm totally willing to pay damages if it means breaking your camera and terminating this interview. I'm tired, I've been flying patrols for the last twelve hours. Leave me the fu… can you say fuck on the networks?" He doesn't even wait for an answer. "Leave me the fuck alone."

"Well. It is a military-issued camera, friend. So, you'll be looking at around 1.5 million credits, Rogue." A slight tick in his left eye announces a growing…something, within Andy. "And, I might add…this is -my- assigned mission, and I am your superior officer. So stop -fucking- with me, piss-ant, and answer the questions." A pause, and his smile returns, and he's back to his on-air personality. "So, please. Just a few words for your family, or friends back home?" He is so not going to leave without a talking head segment.

Paz neatly collects the brew and takes a big sip. "Gosh, Rouge…What's got you all flapping at loose ends?" she asks, either not noticing the interview in process or, more likely, having a great time pretending not to. "Way you're carrying on, you'd think you were an imposter or something trying not to get caught," she says, then chuckles throatily at the notion, waving it aside. "Seriously, LT, if you really want something to document." Paz adds, placidly as she polishes off the rest of the beer in a long, lusty pull. "Point your camera this direction." she says, kicking off her boots.

"Not wholly sure, in truth," Alec admits. "His name's Grayson, I think. Seen him once or twice in the briefing room, never really had a chance to talk. One of the Minutemen - the reserve squadron." The bomber pilot looks up from the cards to watch the goings-on at the bar out of the corner of his eye. "Don't know him too well. This is sure a good chance for long-range recon, though."

As Phillip receives his glass of cola, he turns to Trey and Andy just shaking his head. Notices Paz's actions and has to stifle a chuckle. This will definitely be an interesting interview. He looks back at Andy to get see his expression.

Sergey only catches snippets of the conversation going on at the bar, but he seems to know what's going on, "Yo-yo guy looks like he cruising for trouble. Unless the woman over there manages to bail him out." With another shake of his head and a chuckle he looks over the cards on the table, "My last post there were no reporters around. No one's interested in the goings on at a supply depot."

Fortunately for Kayly, the table she's chosen to sit at, is happily camera free at the moment, so she pulls out a small notebook, along with a small pocket computer, and starts to write down stuff on the notebook, in between looking at the screen of the computer, with occasional glances given to make sure that the area remains camera free.

Trey rolls his eyes. Paz's remark earns her a smirk from the man, who just shrugs, "That an order? Okay. Trey Grayson. I don't have a family because I'm an orphan, and all my friends are dead because of space cats." Not strictly true, but the guy is likely to sound like he's being truthful. "So words for my friends or family? Sure. 'Sorry, life sucks'. If you've got any other questions, sir, I'd like to request you kindly save them for another day. I'm tired, I just want a drink. Talk to Tizona, or Iceblade." He jabs a thumb at Phillip. "His life is like a goddamned adventure flick." Those who know Trey and are observing him will probably notice he's a lot… grimmer than normal. And it's probably quite believable, though highly odd for the guy who normally acts like life's got a quickload key.

"Fair enough, Grayson. You just had to ask nicely." The camera is already swinging away from Rogue, when Andy slips him an extremely smarmy, and smug wink. The red in his face has begun to pale, and he adds…"I'm sorry to hear about your family." Sincere? Not really. The camera lands on Paz, for a moment…though it slips over to Phillip as the gesture is made toward the young pilot. "You two, Tizona and Iceblade…was it? Sit closer, so I can interview you both."

Paz catches Trey's eye for a moment and was that a wink she just shot the man? Bar dimly lit like this one, hard to tell. "Oooh! Goody!" Paz giggles girlishly, rushing to snag a barstool next to Phillip as she signals the barman for another pint.

Phillip puts on a pleasant smile, being rather used to cameras after many years of vacation and holiday pictures. Iceblade straightens up and looks at Andy ready for the questions.

"Heh, and there we go," says the bomber pilot, collecting up the cards and shuffling them back into the deck. "'s the nice thing about squadrons, they do know how to cover one another. Let's see this, I'm all curious of a sudden…" Alec stops hunching, leaning back in his chair and pushing it out to get a decent view of the bar.

Sergey follows Alec's example and quietly settles in to watch the interview. It's a good opportunity to get to know some of his shipmates at least.

The cameraman's camera settles on the pair, and Andy sits down, just off-camera for this one. He doesn't -always- have to be in-frame. "So, my first question is for the young gentleman." A pause, and the camera zooms in to encapsulate Phillip's face. "What, might I ask, for the gentleviewers at home…what in the fuck is an Iceblade? What does your callsign -mean-, Lieutenant?" A snicker erupts from the soundman, used to the Lieutenant's slightly…odd interviewing style.

Paz turns to face Phillip with an eager grin. "Yeah, Ice, what does your callsign mean?" she asks, grinning sweetly while making what is possibly the most patently false, doe-eyed innocent look ever caught on camera.

Kayly continues on with whatever work it is that she's doing at the moment, occasionally pausing to take a sip from her glass. All thankfully still uninterrupted by such troubles as cameras or reporters. She gives a faint sigh, as she taps a few keys, and then writes something down on her notepad, shaking her head slightly in annoyance.

Phillip responds, "Well, my callsign was actually given to me by my fellow classmates back in the Academy. Back then as I am now, I've always been highly focused on my studies and on enemy craft in the simulator, so much so in fact that I seemed rather cold and distant most days."

Trey offers Paz a wink in return, then turns back to the bar itself and rubs his temples. He then slides off the barstool and begins to walk his way out of the First and Last, keeping a casual eye on the camera. He just happens to be mingling his way through the tables in a meandering path that leads him towards the exit.

The ginger-haired bomber pilot listens to the interview - easy enough, now that conversation's died down to pay attention to it - rather amused. He shakes his head, smiling, and on a whim, draws a card; the two of clubs. He looks up at Paz and Iceblade. "'s about right," he says, bringing his mouth close to the deck. "You got a jack of assholes in there for the next deal?" He grins to himself, and offers Trey a nod goodbye as the pilot makes for the exit.

A moment of silence from the Lieutenant…" That makes absolutely no sense. Ice is cold, I suppose. But distant? And, where in the hell does a blade come into it? This is why I never went to the Academy. Knuckle-dragging Neanderthals. Not like Cornell. Now, that's a school. Have you heard of it?" A flash of a smile, as he insults the alma matter of likely most of the officers in the room, and brings up the ivy league university. "Not that I mean to offend. Not everyone is cut out for the Ivy League." A goofy grin, and he nods toward Tizona… "And, you. I've heard of you. Distinguished Flying Cross, am I right? Tell me about the Battle of Junction, as you saw it, please, Lieutenant Ramirez." He has, it would seem, been doing some homework on his new posting.

"Heh, I wouldn't know, man." Paz replies, giving a shrug and a chuckle. "I graduated from Nowhere U," she chuckles. "All I know about Earth's what I saw of the Academy, and that wasn't exactly a ringing endorsement for our ancestral home," she adds tartly. "Snow? Really?" she sighs, shaking her head sadly. "Now if all of you people had the sense God gave you, you'd 've flown that coop by now. Well, except for the Hawaiians. What Kanani said about that place sounds pretty awesome. Excuse me," she says, getting up and out of frame long enough to snag another brew. "I'm sorry….what was the question?" she asks, sitting back down again and taking a pull. "Oh…yeah…the DFC…I got lucky," she shrugs simply. "A big shot Kilrathi got sloppy, gave me one point two six seconds on my Rapier's targeting computer," she grins nastily and mimes a gun firing. "Bang! You're dead, fuzzball."

Phillip avoids showing any sign of reaction to the comment and looks toward Paz as she answers.

Kayly keeps on trying to look busy, as she keeps messing around with the computer and notepad on her table. She finishes off her drink, and pushes the glass off to the side for the moment, since heading to the bar to either put the glass away, or get another drink are obviously out of the question, so long as the dangerous camera is still lurking around.

Bidding goodnight to the serious-looking technician as he says his farewells, and realizing he's now alone, McGrath looks around the room - and spots Ensign Taylor, sitting by herself. Slipping out of his chair and crossing the bar-room behind the camera, he leans in over the Doctor's work. "Hey there," he murmurs. "Care for company?

"That is an interesting, if abbreviated telling of what was -surely- an epic duel of aces. I will be sure to request your guncamera footage for the documentary." Lieutenant Bernard also holds up a finger, as if he is about to protest her hatred of snow….but then falls silent, nodding to his cameraman, and making the throat cut gesture, as if telling him to cut the camera. And then? He's looking back at Paz, and Phillip, adding in a soft voice…"Looks, guys? Can we sex this up a little? Bang Fuzzball Your Dead is a nice catchphrase…but I'm not entirely sure if it is going to put asses in cockpits, and uniforms on marines, you know?" He points to Paz's uniform…"Do those buttons open?" A smarmy wink.

Kayly raises an eyebrow slightly at the bomber pilots question, and she shrugs slightly. "Feel free if you want, so long as you don't attract any cameras over here. But I'm going to be heading to bed in a bit, once I get some more of this stuff finished up." She states quietly, nodding slightly towards the computer and notepad in front of her.

"Dude, okay, lemme stop you right there." Paz replies, holding up her hand and taking a pull from her pint. "You wanna know the truth about aerospace combat maneuvering?" she asks. "That'll give potential recruits a clear and accurate picture of what they're getting into. Or do you want the whole 'romance' angle?" she asks, the scorn thick in her voice. "Because I signed up for the 'romance' angle," she admits. "And it Goddamned near killed me, mister," she says flatly. "The truth is, a real furball's a series of life or death decisions you have to make one micro_fucking_second at a time. You have your objectives, 'Take out the escorts', say, or 'Intercept the bombers'. Now that sounds easy peasy, lemon squeezy, you've got a formation, hell, you've got a whole _playbook_ of formations, our squad's is almost the size of a small town's phonebook," she smirks. "But, guess what, the second you make contact with the enemy, that shit's the first thing out the window. That Fuzzy Wuzzy I nailed? The son of a bitch didn't know I was in the _world_ , even when my missile was blowing his ship to Charlie Alpha."

Phillip facepalms. Then he points at the Lt, "Look Lt. you can't come in here and insult and badger a bunch of pilots like this and still expect to get anything more friendly than some nasty glares. And that Ace took two pilots on its tail to knock out…and it managed to take out the Honour with just one torp. So check your IVY League crap causes it's not going to get you anywhere around here."

"Ah? Better make the most of your company while I can, then," quips the bomberjock, pulling out a chair and settling down. "Can I ask what you're workin' on, or… would you prefer quiet? I can do that," McGrath assures. "Was mostly watchin' the show." He nods over at the interview.

About the time Paz is pulling from her pint, and looking like a rant might be forthcoming, the Sergeant with the camera is recording again. He knows what he's doing….it ain't Andy that has earned this team their accolades, to be sure. A smile fills up the ivy-leaguer's face while she makes with her speech, and once she's wound up, and Phillip's interjecting…Andy responds, lifting a finger for emphasis.."Actually, pilot. I'm getting -exactly- what I'm looking for. Real emotions." A pause, and he looks at Paz…"Though, we -could- do a re-take, with a few less buttons." Eyebrows lift in question. His smarminess is almost practiced. "So, you're giving us the straight dope on combat flying, Lieutenant Ramirez. I appreciate that. So often, pilots try to show how cool they are, and go into detail about shit that, frankly, my audience doesn't care about. They want to hear that you're flying, killing, and dying for their safety. And it guilts them into signing up."

"A few less buttons?" Paz replies, cocking an eyebrow before giving a sweetly nasty smile. "How many less?" she asks. "Now, before you reply, remember, for each button, you will be deducted a tooth," she all but coos at the man.

Kayly chuckles at the bomber pilot as she glances over the papers and monitor. "Just trying to get up to speed on the goings on in med bay, is all, really. Stuff like who's supposed to get what meds, and when, who I'm allowed to club over the head like a baby seal, if they get out of hand. That sort of thing." She states with a grin, and snickers softly.

Phillip notices the camera and just shakes his head, "Hey Paz, I think we should just ignore them like insolent children until they behave." Iceblade then turns his back to the camera.

"Ho, sounds like a long list," Alec comments, mirroring the grin and falling back into the habit of shuffling the deck o' cards. "Rowdy bunch, the whole fighter wing. Daresay nothing says 'discipline' like a whack round the head and an arm full of tranquillizer, though. Oop, Phil's breakin' formation…" he turns back to the interview a moment.

"That's fine, Lieutenant Snowknife. I'll just have a chat with your CO. Schedule a private interview." A flash of his capped teeth, and he glances at Ramirez with a good humoured smile…"I'll pass, Lieutenant. My parents paid good money for these teeth…and I think that I've got enough for short introductory piece to the 27th Carrier Air Wing, tonight." Andy's cameraman takes the hint, and begins to pack it in, as does the sound-naval-guy.

"Fairly long, at least. Though probably not as long as it was, after that battle the ship was in." Kayly states with a shrug. A glance across the room is given towards where the camera crew are finally putting their equipment away, and she mutters under her breath. "Thank God, I think they're leaving." She glances at one of the ships clocks and frowns slightly, before she adds to the bomber pilot. "And I'm sure it's rude to run off after you've just sat down, but I need to be getting over to Medical myself."

"Walk soft, man." Paz advises Andy as he and his crew begin to pack in their gear. "Walk _real_ soft around here. This crew's been through a _lot_. And we're understandably intolerant of smarmy, glad-handing assholes like yourself." she says simply. swigging at her beer. "Jettison your attitude, Lieutenant Bernard. Snarkiness'll get your ass kicked around here," she winks. "And keep your fuckin' cameras out of our bunkrooms…..That'd be like me breaking into your house and filming you in it."

"Of course. It's an unwritten rule, you know…never enter a barracks without invitation." A smirk, and as for the rest, it gets a shrug, and a knowing grin. It isn't as if this is the first time Andy's been aboard a military a ship…"You've been through a lot, have you? I did a piece on the Venture that -brought- me to Majestic, Lieutenant. That tiny ship had been sent to the repair yard six times in the past year alone, and double-digit losses…she -barely- has a double-digit crew…so do the math. Don't flatter yourselves into thinking you have it oh so hard. This is luxury accommodations, compared to most of the fleet."

"Heh. G'night, Doctor," the Irishman says, offering her a lazy wave. "I'll just have to look forward to the next time, eh? Take care now, go easy on them seals…" Alec watches her go, and sits back, looking over the table that he's now alone at - eventually cocking an eyebrow at Lt. Bernard's back, and offering Paz and Phil a mad, toothy grin from across the room.

Phillip looks towards Andy, "Oh Lt., I got a story for ya. Back at the Academy, there was this guy, born into a wealth, and he reminded us of it constantly. Well one day, he taught it would be a lark to boss us around like servants. And we didn't take too kindly to that as you can imagine. Next day we lost three pilots: the guy dropped with some broken bones and the other two pilots were expelled. Needless to say, we don't too kindly to arrogant individuals who's only real talent is the luck to be born into a particular family. That is all, and have a nice day." Iceblade ends in a irritated sing-songy voice.

Kayly chuckles and nods towards Alec, as she gathers up her stuff. "Thanks. You take care, too." She replies, as she gets out of her chair. "I can't make any promises about going easy on them, but we'll see." She adds with a grin, before she heads out the door and towards the lifts.

"Not exactly what I meant." Paz sighs, sipping at her beer again. "But point taken," she replies, turning away. "Go make your movie, LT…Just keep it out of here,"

"Alas. It is unlikely that will be possible, Lieutenant. This is an important part of the story for the viewers back home…and, a large portion of the reason a fleet carrier was the chosen assignment. Members of three of our branches mingling, and drinking in a bar not unlike those at home. Only one ship can provide that…a fleet carrier." A smile, and Andy turns his attention to Phillip…"Kid. Clearly you have a thing or two to learn about subtlety…but, if you must know, I am can play a mean fucking banjo, and sing -anything- without accompanying instrumentation. What more can a man ask for?" With his staff having departed, he is now on his way for the door, pausing only to add…"I don't think I introduced myself…I'm Lieutenant Bernard…but, most folks just call me Nard-Dawg." No one calls him that, he just wishes they did. And then he's gone.

Paz sighs, shaking her heads as Cecil Wanna Be De Mille exits. "Oh, I think I'm gonna have to find a new place to drink on this boat." she says.

Phillip responds, "Okay, then sleep well, Nard-Dawg." Iceblade then turns around, rolls his eyes and goes back to his barstool. He finishes off his cola in one drink.
Andy has disconnected.

Thinking over what just happened, Alec shuffles his cards for a few moments longer… before smiling, shaking his head and standing up, leaving the deck in place. With a lazy salute at the Minutemen from across the room, he heads out.

After a minute of time passing from the exit of the documentarian, Iceblade leaves for the powderkeg. Totally exhausted moreso from the last half-minute than the hours of patrols.