2010-12-02 - Argama's New Maid

Argama The Repair Deck

The repair deck is quite busy at the moment. Technicians are floating about to repair the many Gundams that are present, and a few of the Nemos are /really/ in a state of disrepair. Or rather: dismantlement. But there is a strange man present amongst the technicians. Someone who doesn't belong - and seems to purposefully be staying /away/ from one corner of the repair deck, in which a kneeled-over Orbital Frame sits with countless of tubes and wires sticking from the cockpit as an odd few technicians try to figure out its secrets... to little avail.

That strange person that is standing out so much is Ascian - his blue hair looking a bit dirty along with the white apron he is wearing. The young man is floating from place to place to hand technicians their tools, and is at the same time organizing a series of toolboxes. That is, until finally he leans against a nearby wall and begins to take a break - holding in his hand a small metalic canister of sorts... and a slight red blush is forming on the guy's cheeks.

Spending time split between terrestrial activities and putting in time on the ship makes it difficult to get used to zero-gravity. Thus it is that Isa Reichert is not... entirely used to moving around in it, but she's a little more confident every time she has to do it.

Right now, she's overseeing maintenance on a Lightning III in its sleek fighter configuration. It boasts a paint scheme that definitely isn't factory issue, and it looks like the paint's being adjusted, too. Black above, the undersides are a chromed, reflective silver, with yellow warning issues and stylized fin flashes -- but it looks like the silver is being covered up by black and the fin flashes are being rearranged to a more subtle position, at the very tips instead of a short distance in; a thin strip instead of a broad stripe wide enough for a quarter-circle and bar in the middle.

Isa's smoking a cigarette, but she's staying well back from the machinery. It doesn't look like she's aware of Ascian's presence, not yet. She's about as psychic as a fencepost -- if one of these is not like the others, she'll notice it through more mundane means. She's wearing a flight suit, with service patches from the Belkan War, and the insignia of the Yuktobanian Air Force on her left arm.

On the right arm is a squadron patch with a stylized black Grim Reaper in a white mask, and a soaring grey jet trailing four stars. Most of the patches look pretty old; some are newer. And right below her squadron patch is one that definitely looks new -- one of them is a grey shield with a woman's head on it; long stylized red hair covered by a black winged helm. Above the shield is stitched, 'THE GHOSTS OF RAZGRIZ.' On the lower margin, in small black lettering on a white scroll it proclaims, 'RAZGRIZ AIR COMMAND SQUADRON.'

Huh.

Beside her, a man in a matching flight suit, down to the Geist and Razgriz patches, lounges against the wall, with a cigarette of his own. He has sandy blonde hair, light at the roots, and his eyes are almost totally obscured by a pair of dark aviator sunglasses. He doesn't look very happy; occasionally he remarks something quietly to Isa.

Right now, Isa herself is directing the mechanics with the paint by virtue of raising her voice, commenting here and there.

"Ay. Trim those fin flash closer, da? And there should be thin red line, from base of inside port elevator to starboard side."

"Yeah, yeah..." The mechanics grumble to themselves as they scurry to do her bidding.

"Well, it's not too different from what it was." The blonde man next to her gestures toward the space fighter with his own respective cigarette, shrugging. "Just a little less red. And a lot more black."

"Hmm. Cipher has good eye," Isa comments, grinning. "Does not look half bad..."

Honestly, is paint really that important? That is Ascian's thoughts as he watches the technicians come from an area further to his left to direct the painting of the jet in question. He takes another swig from the metalic canister before wiping his mouth and closing it up. It was harder to drink in space than down on earth, he really had to be careful with the opening and closing of these things. There is a moment where he quickly moves his head - opening and closing his mouth to capture a single drop of the transparent liquid that was floating upwards in midair. His gaze then flicks about to see where these people were coming from and pockets the metalic canister - leaving it in his breastpocket; closed cap sticking out.

It takes a moment for the white-apron wearing framerunner to have floated close enough to recognize Isa Reichert. Of course, the man with her he does not. He stops himself with one hand by pushing it off against a single box between the two and then hooking his foot around a hose that way laying on the floor - held down with metal rings. Likely a fuel line of sorts. "Ah, so it is you who is making the technicians turn into painters." He chuckles, showing a somewhat amused face... without taking away from the seriousness within his eyes. With the apron on and all - he really kind of looked rediculous. The Divine Crusader remains where he is, hooking in still, and moves a hand up to his breastpocket to remove the little metalic canister. He isn't keeping the fact that he has something to drink a secret. Or rather, he figures that nobody will ask if he doesn't try to keep it a secret.

"So. That is the Lightning II - the thing that silver eyed guy wanted to know about." He tries to strike up a proper conversation with her - not wishing to start off with angry looks again. He got plenty of that around her already, simply for being who he was. Of course, it was getting harder and harder to strike that off as EFA ruthlessness, and instead had given the seed of doubt by Rem Blacknight - was he in the wrong for being with the Divine Crusaders? All he knew was that BAHRAM still had the right goals, and that is all the man cared about. "Is it really that special?" There is no disrespect in those words, only curiousity.

A few of the mechanics call to each other as they take care of their various tasks, cables keeping them from drifting too far away from their target area. They've got masks on, too, just in case... but their tools seem to take care of applying the paint without any spare bits floating away.

"More red. There's too much grey in that. Watch it, or Dragon Lady over there's gonna kill you if you put that on." "Geez. It's just a paint job. What's the big deal, anyway?" "Eh, I don't know. What about that new emblem?"

Isa interrupts them, raising a hand and gesturing. "Emblem on tail elevators. Outside."

Her evident companion also offers a little direction. His voice is smooth and almost carries a Cockney-like accent. "Just make sure you get the colours right, yeah? This is an important one."

Over the aircraft, the mechanics just grumble to themselves.

"Geez, it's just a paint job..." "Don't see what the big deal is..."

It's about then that the Yuktobanian recognises the apron-clad Ascian. One of these is not like the others, and the last time she saw that face, it was locked up in the brig.

"You! What are you doing outside of brig?" The one-eyed pilot snarls and stabs a finger towards Ascian. "Give me one good reason not to call security on you, or drag you back there myself!"

Isa is stronger than she looks... and her companion looks like he works out regularly, too. He just regards Ascian flatly from behind his sunglasses, unsmiling; slowly, his arms fold over his chest.

"...No, this is Lightning III. Is Valkyrie. Not what that man was looking for. As for what he /was/ looking for... is none of your business, /mal'chik/." Boy. The term it given with a slight sneer; it comes easily, with how inflexible the ravaged side of her face is.

The fewer that know about the Skytalon in painstaking detail, the better. Actually, it's here on the Argama, but she hasn't finished recalibrating its avionics and engines since Rachel's whirlwind reconstruction. The rebuilt Skytalon hasn't actually left the hangar yet.

"It'd be better for you not to go nosing around here, I think... and that's a question." Isa's companion just stares Ascian down, flatly. "Just what are you doin' outside the brig, anyway?" He sounds more like he's resigned than trying to be intimidating, though. "Captain's gonna have a fit if he hears about this. Man," he adds, with a sigh, "I think it's time for a new security rotation..."

"Tssk..." Ascian turns his head sideways for a moment to hide his annoyance with Isa's rough words. His finger taps back on the lid of the canister as his cheeks continue to carry that slight glow that tends to come to those taking in some alchohol. Whatever its actual contents, they bring momentary calm to his mind once more. He lets his eyes shift so he can give Isa another look, before he tips his head over back a bit so that he can give the blonde a good look. He did not recognize the man, so gives him a confused look - only to proceed to close his eyes and letting go a long drawn breath.

"Will you stop pointing at me already?" The framerunner asks, raising a single hand and pointing the flat palmside towards her whilst his other hand moves to his forehead, as if to indicate that he is simply too tired for such behavior. "Look, they simply let me out to do some chores around here. With the aliens constantly breathing down their necks, the people here are extremely tired." He nudges his head towards some of the technicians who have blue circles beneath their eyes. It is easy to miss at times, due to how hard they work and how dedicated they are, but they are nothing short of exhausted. "They will take anyone to pick up the slack at the moment. And there was this guy named Judau that selected me as the candidate." He lowers the hand that had been raised towards Isa and instead plucks on the apron whilst he opens his eyes again.

"Do you really think I would escape and wear this? You really need to pay more attention to what is going on in front of you." He takes another pause to look at Isa's companio before he nods at him. The accent he had picked up, but he could not place it. After all, he wasn't 'an earthnoid'. "Either way." His voice is extremely calm and mellow today. "It is probably a good thing that who-ever that was did not find information about... whatever it was he was looking for. So then - I assume this Valkyrie is your blonde friend's?" He shakes his head a bit. "You don't have to answer."

The Yuke practically bristles as she waits out the framerunner's explanation -- she doesn't seem entirely satisfied, but the mention of another ship member seems to put her suspicions to ease... at least a little. Enough not to go hauling him back to the brig by the ear, anyway.

A suspicious glance is given towards the flask, but she doesn't comment.

...She can probably smell the alcohol from her current position, and even if she couldn't, she knows the flushed look of somebody who's treating themselves to a litle nip now and then.

Hmph. Even the damn prisoner gets better alcohol than her. The day she can take an assignment planetside again can't come fast enough. At least there's decent booze to be had down there...

When Ascian complains about being pointed at, Isa settles for folding her arms, and even that simple gesture manages to radiate annoyance. "Fine. I will accept that explanation, for now. But if it turn out you are lying, I /will/ drag you back there myself."

"And I am no less tired than mechanics," she growls, glaring at him. It's true -- there are hollows under her good eye, and she looks a bit drawn; a bit pale, like she's just barely keeping herself on her feet. Figuratively. If there were gravity here she'd probably be leaning against the wall to stay upright. "Happens when you are running between space and earth every few days. These mechanic, they have luxury of staying put."

To the matter of the Valkyrie, she makes a dismissive gesture. "Nyet. Is mine. And 'blonde friend' is--"

"Just helping out down here." The man grins, showing white and even teeth. "I'm Geist Two. Our bird takes three to pilot, but my girl's just as good on her own in this bird."

Isa snorts. "No. And he wouldn't get information, either. Not unless he want it over my cooling corpse." That blue-eyed glare says as much. "If he try again, I think I will hit him this time." And even if it's just a dream, it's still gonna be just as cathartic. "Don't know what he is up to... or who he is."

"I met him once before." Ascian replies. "In the Sahara, near the Earth's Cradle. He held a school of children hostage." He isn't about to mention the first 'dream' he had had that had been so similar. "Started a battle with me and a few others, just for the sake of battling us. I don't know what the hell his objective is except for saving his... wife I think it was?" His mind is a tad hazy due to the contents of that battle. Indeed, it was alcohol - and by the smell of it, really strong. The Vodka kind of strong. In fact, that's exactly what it smells like. The young man takes a quick gulp of it, then closes it. "Ahhh... I don't care what they say about Neo Russia - they do make the good stuff." Was that a stab at Isa to make her jealous? Probably not. He was really just appreciating the good booze. But he's not offering it - but he /is/ watching her expression for the reaction to what he just did.

And while he continues to watch her, he nods at the blonde. "Greetings, Geist Two. So... if that bird takes three to pilot, and she is Geist One. Where is Geist Three?" He makes an obvious, although perhaps ill-informed conclusion. "But then, I've never see you here, so that would indeed suggest that if there is a Geist Three, they don't need to actually be here." He tips his head towards the female Valkyrie fighter and momentarily eyes the patches on her uniform. He then peers down at the apron for a moment, which is hiding his dull emblem of the BAHRAM military. He lets out an exasperated sigh. "Say. Completely not-so-serious question. How long did it take you to get where you are now? Experience as a veteran and all that?"

"Humph." Isa folds her arms and frowns around her cigarette. If she sees the individual again outside of dreamland, she'll be more than happy to greet him with a missile to the face. Or maybe a fist, depending on the situation. "No great loss to us, then. Will be sure to give him warm welcome if I see him again."

There are certain things that you Do Not Do in wartime. Involving civilians in any way is one of them. It's something Isa feels very strongly about, for all of the nonchalance in her response to Ascian.

"Catchin' forty winks," the man answers, shrugging and gesturing vaguely towards deeper inside the Argama. Likely he means the crew quarters. "We're all run down, yeah? We sleep where we can. The rest of us work when we can't. Sooner or later we'll all take care of those Balmarian bastards, but until then, it's a tough shift."

The vodka is eyed, but rather than with a certain appreciation or longing, Isa wears an expression of disgust. "What are you doing? Drinking while on job? Put that away. I hope you don't /fly/ like that."

...Apparently she has surprisingly good work ethic, too.

To the last question, Isa folds her arms, as though thinking long and hard about it. Hmm. How long did it take her to get where she was?

She shrugs, then. What harm's there in telling him? She pulls from a pocket what looks like a wallet, and digs around a moment past crumpled small-change and a few scraps of faded paper; finding what looks like old-time photographs. Tourist type things, probably, rather than the slick holographic sort of thing any modern person might carry around.

There are two photos, there. One of them is a printout from a newspaper article, or perhaps a still from a news feed. It shows a picture of several Yuktobanian and Soviet officials, standing in the foreground with their hands folded behind their back. Behind them is a flight of jets perhaps ten years old, and the Yuktobanian flag flying. In the cockpit of the one closest to the foreground is Isa, ten years younger, with both eyes and no scarring. (She was certainly a pretty woman, before she lost half her face.) The blonde man beside her is vaguely recognisable in the next jet down -- past that, the camera focus isn't sharp enough to identify, but it must be Geist Three. On the tails of the jets are the Geist roundel on their sleeves today.

There's a caption on the photo identifying it as a news article, but it's written in Cyrillic. If he can understand any of it, it says in block capital letters below the photo, "FAMOUS REAPER OF THE ROUND TABLE PREPARES FOR SORTIE. SOVIET AND YUKTOBANIAN GENERAL OF THE AIR FORCE LOOK ON IN FOREGROUND."

...They were Federation pilots.

"Ten years ago. You remember One Year War, if you were old enough for it? Da. I was veteran of that war. Him, too." She gestures toward the as-yet-unnamed Geist Two. "And Three. We had fourth, but he was killed over Round Table."

"Have been flying for twelve years. First as test pilot, then as combat pilot. Have been flying ten of those without right eye." Her slow smile is not pleasant, and carries a distinctly predatory look to it. "Is easy for me when opponent think I can't fly without both eye. Nasty surprise for them, da...?"

The last Balmarian she fought found this out, even if the Valkyrie was torn to shreds. It was satisfying to prove that her "relic" still had teeth -- and that despite her handicap, so did Isa.

"I was old enough... but I wasn't in it. I was kind of... sheltered." Ascian replies whilst unhooking himself and using the nearby crate to let himself get close enough to get a better look of those pictures, but not enough for Isa to get defensive with him. After all, he believed that in a ways, she dispised him. And with the way she was talking - all those years she had experience - he began to realize just why this was. "So let me guess. You've fought the Divine Crusaders more than you ever would have wanted to?" Taking attention away from his previous claim of solitude, he shifts the subject back onto Isa. After all, in a ways, someone with that much experience interests him. She'd seen much more of this world. Much more war. Much more life. Much more death. "The way you are now. I can only presume that you have seen much death and suffering. Friends lost." He is feeling compassionate towards this woman. His eyes then turn towards Geist Two. Yes, the blue haired BAHRAM framerunner had recognized him.

"You both are many years apart from someone such as me. I've barely seen war - only that against the Balmarians. And only two months or so at that." His head shakes for a moment. "In a ways, you amaze me. In another, you are scary to me." It was hard to tell if he was lying and just trying to be friendly, or if he really meant this. The youth had an incredibly knack for lying and not showing it. "Don't mind my rambling." He shakes his head for a moment before he extends the bottle towards the two of them. "I am taking a break at the moment. I can take alcohol quite fine... for a spacenoid anyway. The technicians where I was raised distilled their own stuff from... god knows what they used. Over the years, I worked up a bit of a resistance I guess. Anyhow - you can have some if you want to. I promise I didn't poison it." Alcohol was enough poison in and off of itself in a ways.

The Divine Crusader continues to observe the two. Yes, he realized that they had the experience and muscles of an earthnoid. He however - being overconfident - believed to have more experience in fighting in zero-G. There was no reason to go trying this out though. "Oh, and anothe rthing. What does it say under the photo? I can't quite read it?" In fact, he could not read it at all! "But wait." He pauses for a moment. "That's one heck of an old jet - if you are /still/ flying that." Clearly - that fact amazes him.

"Have not actually fought Divine Crusader, not so much." Isa shakes her head, faintly. "Our war was with Belka. You know Belka? Is small country, near Germany. Small, maybe, but many ace pilot. When Belkan War started -- when One Year War started -- they had best Air Force in region."

"When the war ended, they bombed their own country rather than allow the Allies to advance." The blonde man pulls his cigarette away for a moment, puffing smoke, scowling down at it for a few seconds. "Nuclear. /Seven/ of 'em. All tactically plotted out, lined up pretty as you please so no one could get across the southern Belkan border."

"Da." Something seems to dim in the Yuke's single eye; she looks away. "There were four Geist, originally. In sortie that killed them, Belkans try to rush Allied holding. Demon Lord was not there to fly with us; so Yuktobania send up every pilot they have. We were up with full Geist squadron and twenty-six other. Thirty jet in all. Six of us come back home. Five of us actually survive. I lost my eye. Half my face. Half my side. Jet was destroyed." She ticks off the casualties and damages on her fingers.

"Went back up after month in hospital. Taught myself to fly again, and quickly. Fought again through rest of Belkan War." Isa looks tired more than anything else. "Is like that now, only Balmarian instead of Belkan. Flying every day. Fighting every other."

A hand waves. "Nyet. I do not drink on duty." Isa casts a wintry look towards the Divine Crusader. "Neither should you. Am half tempted to tell Captain about that..."

"Nyet." Another shake of her head, and Isa folds her arms. "Was new, ten year ago. Is retired now. May still be some in service. Vertical takeoff, landing. Stable at low altitude. Fast and manoeuvrable. Was a good jet." She gestures toward the Valkyrie and the ongoing work of its new paint job. "Like that, but atmospheric only. Was not as manoeuvrable as Lightning."

Dominic shifts slightly, folding his arms as well. "It's in Russian, that's why." But rather than answer Ascian's question, he glances towards Isa. She shrugs; and Dominic's sunglass-veiled eyes turn back toward Ascian. "'Famous 'Reaper of the Round Table' prepares for sortie. Soviet and Yuktobanian General of the Air Force look on in foreground.'"

"Geist Squadron." Isa taps the patch on her right arm. "They call me Reaper in Yuktobania for my skill, before Belkan sortie that took my eye... and even after."

"Fine fine - I'll be good." Ascian muses and puts it away. "It doesn't contain that much anyhow." He adds to this, as if claiming that it would not hurt him to put it away one way or the other. "To more interesting matters. I am afraid I do not know much about the Belkan war. My knowledge of earthen affairs and wars only extends so far. To emphasize his words, he forms a small space between thumb and index finger. "I am sorry for your loss though. I may not have ever been within an organization such as yours - but I can imagine that if you are part of a team like that - their deaths must weigh heavily on you." He looks her up and down one more time. "It's in fact amazing that you kept on going with just one eye. I saw you battle not too long ago after all. I didn't get that good of a look, but what I saw was pretty darn amazing."

It was strange. A Divine Crusader complimenting a former member of the EFA. But it didn't look like he really minded that much. At this moment, she was a single person to him, not some 'earthnoid' or 'EFA agent'. The young man does take note of one thing that he asks about; "What is the Round Table? I presume that was the name of your original squad?" He submitted only to innocent questions that would not put him at risk of angering Isa. At least, that's what he was going for. "And what about you? Seems you got lucky. Or are you hiding something behind those glasses?" He was refering to Isa's scar - wondering if Dominic had a similar wound of sorts. He lets out a sigh and finally shakes his head. "Also. I must note - I do have a rather specific hatred for such things as Nuclear arsenal."

"Is not a matter of 'being good,'" Isa snaps, not at all pleased. "Is a matter of being able to do work you can trust your teammates' lives to. What if you are drunk, just a little, and screw up some minor detail? Eh? Then, in battle, they die because of your mistake? No good officer let their men drink on duty. Even I do not."

For all that she makes noise about enjoying a good drink, that's strictly off-duty. Isa wouldn't even think about touching a drop while she's on call or expecting to launch. That's just not the way she does things.

Apparently, she's rather serious about it, too.

"Spasiba." Thanks. "Is just mind over matter. I fly with blind spot, but is nothing instrumentation cannot make up for."

The man just grins, but as Ascian keeps talking, that grin keeps fading. Eventually he trails off into an exasperated sigh. "What? Original squad? Geez... no. The original name of our squad was Soyuz... we earned our new roundel and name 'bout the time my girl earned her reputation as the Reaper. Well, I guess you wouldn't know about it, if you spent all your time in space. The Round Table is a region in Europe that's pretty much a desert. Think of it as a proving ground for pilots, yeah? But not your ridiculous robot things; it's a proving ground for us." He sticks a thumb to his own chest. "Aircraft pilots. There's only one rule over that airspace -- survival."

"Best pilot to ever fly jet flew there, sooner or later. Mostly Belkan aces. Gelb. Grun. Indigo. Rot. Schnee. Schwarze. Some Oseans -- Wizard, Sorceror. Some Ustians... and most famous two of them all. Pixy, in jet with red right wing. And Galm -- Demon Lord of Round Table."

To the question of whether or not he's carrying any scars, Dominic just snorts, pulling his glasses down and fixing Ascian with a bland look. His eyes are blue, but so pale they almost look colourless. "No. Just light sensitive, yeah?" He nudges the glasses back into place. "I wear these whether I'm on the air or in the ground. Had corrective contacts for the Belkan War -- it's the only way they'd let me pilot a plane -- but I hate wearin' 'em. Couldn't afford surgery... and I didn't really care for the idea of havin' lasers on my eyes, either. So, I wear these corrective lenses instead."

"No... my girl got the brunt of it." He thumbs at Isa. "Ejection system failed when she got her ass shot down. When her jet hit ground, the impact must've sparked an electrical fire somehow; that's what the burns are. Nah; Three and I bailed out without a scratch," he states, seriously. "We got lucky."

"Is what happened to eye, too." Isa points to indicate the patch. "Burned right out. Spent a month in hospital, da? And most of that time was in surgeries. Could have had eye replaced; cybernetic, da? But it did not sit well with me either. If I was going to fly... was going to do it on my own power. Learn it all over again if I had to." And she did, apparently.

"Well, good for you. So do we." Isa snorts, folding her arms again and glancing towards the plane -- only to wave an arm wildly, unclipping herself and pushing off towards the mechanics. "Ay, ay, /ay/! I said more red! I do not want /grey/ fin flash!"

That leaves Dominic alone with the Divine Crusader. He just sighs, shaking his head and rubbing his forehead. "Man, how hard can it be to mix a little paint up...?"

Ascian turns his head as Isa pushes off - watching her float towards the technicians who are quickly scrambling to get things as she approaches. He can't help but stiffle a chuckle which was arising from within. "Hrrm." He then turns his eyes so that he is properly facing Dominic. "But what got her to have such a rough voice? I mean - cigarettes and alcohol I presume? But - was there something that drove her to that point?" He realizes just what kind of personal question that is and quickly shakes his head. "No - never mind. Forget I asked - that was rude of me." Ascian pushes off towards Dominic and offers the metal cannister to him. "She needs it more than me now. Give it to her when she is off-duty? Besides, that way she doesn't need to worry that I am being drunk on the job." A little sigh follows and he lets the canister float in midair between the two, to let the guy decide and let /himself/ have his hands free.

"She's right. I'm being careless." He turns his gaze on the woman who's floating away from him for a moment, before facing the blonde again. "It becomes so painfully obvious to me that I am just a rookie amongst veterans. It's kind of unbearable sometimes. But I can't help but get a bit powerhungry now and again." The young man nudges his head in the direction of the Amenthes - which remains to be almost entirely lifeless. "And worried. I don't know if you have this. But... to me, she's kind of alive. An extension of myself. Let me ask you, do you ever feel that way about your own jets - the machinery you fly? Is it... wrong to get obsessed about them? To get angry when they get harmed?" He'd taken note of everything the woman had said previously, and it was information he'd remember for certain. But now that she was gone, he felt a bit relieved. For some reason, due to the way Dominic had responded at first - he found an easier time asking these kind of things.

"Oh, yeah." Dominic pulls a cigarette from his own pocket, fumbling around a few minutes for a chunky-looking chrome lighter. A flick lights it, and he casually slips it back into his pocket. "Smoked and drank since I first met her." He scratches his chin, thoughtful. "It was worse after the Belkan War, though. Smoke damage, probably. She was trapped in the cockpit for a bit before she could get the canopy open; it's why the fire got her as bad as it did, yeah?"

Folding his arms, the pilot then looks on as Isa proceeds to harangue half of the mechanics in angry and vitriolic Russian. He just smiles a lazy smile. Going by his relaxed nature, this is probably standard operating procedure for her.

"Heh?" He glances over when the flask is offered to him, waving a hand dismissively. "We know where to find something better. In any case, she won't drink it now. We're too busy to deal with hangovers; we've got way too much running around to do. But thanks, kid. Appreciate the gesture."

That night at the Mediterranean was an exception; that was a night fit for celebration. The last night of revelry they'd enjoy until after this damned war against the Balmarians, most likely.

He folds his arms once again, frowning at Ascian's words. "Hunh. Alive? Sounds like you need to get your feet on solid ground once in a while, boy. We start spouting nonsense like that in Yuktobania, and our commanding officer would kick our arses so hard we'd feel it for a week. Our machines are just that. Machines. They get trashed. You can replace them... but you can't replace the pilot."

"Oh, sure. We get pissed if our bird gets scraped up too bad. She's the only one of her kind in the air, and it's expensive to get her fixed up. Something important goes, and we need the parts milled on special order. Runs up quite the tab... and besides that, there are some unsavoury sorts out there that might want to get their hands on our bird... like that silver-eyed bloke." He shakes his head. "Wouldn't want to see that happen. My girl'd have a coronary, I think."

"But, don't get me wrong." Dominic lolls his head, slightly, fixing Ascian with a flat look over the rim of his glasses. "I'll talk about the things that don't mean much, in the long run... but I don't trust you any more than she does."

When the booze gets refused, Ascian simply nods understandingly and takes it back. Of course, the main claiming thta he should get himself looked at - so to speak - doesn't make him too happy. He doesn't show this of course. And he understood how crazy he was sounding. But then, Dominic didn't know what it was like to be on Amenthes; to operate something that had a pulse... something that responded to his will. No matter. What did this guy know? It was not just a machine. It was special. The subject gets set aside.

"I don't expect trust." God, how many times had he have to say this now? It was growing tiresome. Sure, he wanted people to trust him, but to have everyone claim that they /didn't/ trust him just was so... annoying. It probably showed, a bit of hurt as well as that very annoyance. "Anyhow." The young man turns his head away at the area he had been keeping organized. "I should get back to work. The aliens could strke any moment, and this place needs to be ready. May as well help them out." He turns his head towards Dominic. "Make sure miss Isa remains safe. Rachel would be sure to miss her." He knew he'd get a response like 'don't need to tell me that' or something along those lines. But he felt it needed saying.

As far as the Geist pilots are concerned, their machinery does respond to their will, but it's a very diffrent manner of speaking than one of these "living" machines. There are no inherent systems of artificial intelligence in the Skytalon, at least no further than the innate cockpit warning systems and computerised combat subsystems, protocols, and fly-by-wire corrections required to fly the jet.

Actually, they're pretty screwed if the Skytalon's many computer systems fail. Fortunately, there are at least three redundant systems on the things that are absolutely necessary... and they have no idea what Morgenroete, Inc. has done to the avionics since rebuilding. The three of them just haven't had the time to fire her up and recalibrate everything.

Dominic sighs, reaching up and scratching his head. He doesn't look particularly happy with the annoyance that flickers across Ascian's features. "Look, kid. You want a chip off your shoulder about being a prisoner on a ship, go ahead, yeah? But the reality of the situation is that you're a prisoner on this ship, and it ain't exactly gonna be friendship and roses for you here. That's life. People aren't gonna just lose their wariness because the aliens are punchin' us, yeah?"

But, with that, he lets that go.

"Speakin' of aliens... yeah. And stop callin' her 'Miss.' She doesn't like it..." And if Ascian happens to do it within earshot of her, he'll find out himself. "Can't say I didn't warn you."

To the rest, though, he just raises a brow behind his sunglasses. "Heh. Yeah. Maybe. As for staying safe... well, my girl's real good at stayin' alive. No need for you to worry, anyway. And try not to drink on the job any more..."

Dominic shrugs, waving the youth off -- and with that, pushes himself off the wall, namely in the interest of seeing what in the sam hell those mechanics and Isa are up to. It's gotten awfully quiet over there.