Marissa/Taylor: Yellow and Green

||USS Debris
||Marine Armory
||TBD

Marissa took a deep breath as she headed to talk to Taylor. While she was still pissed off about the smoke in juice incident, he outranked her now and she had to let it go. Besides he was sleeping with the boss. If she made a misstep then she knew that would affect what Lillian thought as well. Last thing she needed was the pregnant captain pissed off before she had license to be.

"Be on your best behavior, Mars," she said gently to herself.

Bracing herself she entered the room and looked around. Mostly she wanted this over with, but she'd seen the list and they had to get along. At least tolerate each other professionally...

"Lucas," she called out, realizing she probably should have been more formal...oh well.

||USS Debris
||Marine Armory
||TBD

Marissa took a deep breath as she headed to talk to Taylor. While she was still pissed off about the smoke in juice incident, he outranked her now and she had to let it go. Besides he was sleeping with the boss. If she made a misstep then she knew that would affect what Lillian thought as well. Last thing she needed was the pregnant captain pissed off before she had license to be.

"Be on your best behavior, Mars," she said gently to herself.

Bracing herself she entered the room and looked around. Mostly she wanted this over with, but she'd seen the list and they had to get along. At least tolerate each other professionally...

"Lucas," she called out, realizing she probably should have been more formal...oh well.

Taylor was currently alone in the armoury taking care of the armour pieces that he had shed from himself. The chest and arm plates were hanging up in his locker as he inspected them. He was still wearing his olive drab fatigue shirt along with the plates of the lower half of the armour suit. His carbine and pistol were lying on the bench near him as he fetched some tools to dismantle them and put them together. For Taylor it was like some ritual to do. Weapon maintenance was like that for every marine.

When he heard Marissa call out his surname he frowned at the familiar voice calling out his surname and spun around to find her standing at the door. "Lieutenant." he said with a small grin. After the rather appeasing training simulation he wasn't in the mood to adhere to the rank calling. For him anyway. For Taylor respect for the rank was everything. Respect for the person wearing it...well, he figured after his stunt in the canteen he'd have a long way to gain any of Marissa's respect. If it ever was winnable.

"If it's about the juice thing, I'm sorry. It's just mercs and me...well, it's nothing personal. Well it is something personal but it's a long tale that I'm sure you're not interesting in. Got enough to do without listen to stories from the old, almost washed up marine officer."

||USS Fenris
||Marine Armory
||TBD

Marissa took a deep breath as she headed to talk to Taylor. While she was still pissed off about the smoke in juice incident, he outranked her now and she had to let it go. Besides he was sleeping with the boss. If she made a misstep then she knew that would affect what Lillian thought as well. Last thing she needed was the pregnant captain pissed off before she had license to be.

"Be on your best behavior, Mars," she said gently to herself.

Bracing herself she entered the room and looked around. Mostly she wanted this over with, but she'd seen the list and they had to get along. At least tolerate each other professionally...

"Lucas," she called out, realizing she probably should have been more formal...oh well.

Taylor was currently alone in the armoury taking care of the armour pieces that he had shed from himself. The chest and arm plates were hanging up in his locker as he inspected them. He was still wearing his olive drab fatigue shirt along with the plates of the lower half of the armour suit. His carbine and pistol were lying on the bench near him as he fetched some tools to dismantle them and put them together. For Taylor it was like some ritual to do. Weapon maintenance was like that for every marine.

When he heard Marissa call out his surname he frowned at the familiar voice calling out his surname and spun around to find her standing at the door. "Lieutenant." he said with a small grin. After the rather appeasing training simulation he wasn't in the mood to adhere to the rank calling. For him anyway. For Taylor respect for the rank was everything. Respect for the person wearing it...well, he figured after his stunt in the canteen he'd have a long way to gain any of Marissa's respect. If it ever was winnable.

"If it's about the juice thing, I'm sorry. It's just mercs and me...well, it's nothing personal. Well it is something personal but it's a long tale that I'm sure you're not interesting in. Got enough to do without listen to stories from the old, almost washed up marine officer."

"While I think what you did was rude and uncalled for, you outrank me." Marissa said. "There's no reason to dwell on it. I'm here for other reasons."

She was here to talk about the Away Team and about finding a way to work together. Most people had a problem with true Mercs and while she was frustrated he was okay with it one moment and not the next, she figured that Lillian's influence on him had made him think more about the past.

Nodding at that she shrugged. "You can tell me whatever story you want."

||USS Fenris
||Marine Armory
||TBD

Marissa took a deep breath as she headed to talk to Taylor. While she was still pissed off about the smoke in juice incident, he outranked her now and she had to let it go. Besides he was sleeping with the boss. If she made a misstep then she knew that would affect what Lillian thought as well. Last thing she needed was the pregnant captain pissed off before she had license to be.

"Be on your best behavior, Mars," she said gently to herself.

Bracing herself she entered the room and looked around. Mostly she wanted this over with, but she'd seen the list and they had to get along. At least tolerate each other professionally...

"Lucas," she called out, realizing she probably should have been more formal...oh well.

Taylor was currently alone in the armoury taking care of the armour pieces that he had shed from himself. The chest and arm plates were hanging up in his locker as he inspected them. He was still wearing his olive drab fatigue shirt along with the plates of the lower half of the armour suit. His carbine and pistol were lying on the bench near him as he fetched some tools to dismantle them and put them together. For Taylor it was like some ritual to do. Weapon maintenance was like that for every marine.

When he heard Marissa call out his surname he frowned at the familiar voice calling out his surname and spun around to find her standing at the door. "Lieutenant." he said with a small grin. After the rather appeasing training simulation he wasn't in the mood to adhere to the rank calling. For him anyway. For Taylor respect for the rank was everything. Respect for the person wearing it...well, he figured after his stunt in the canteen he'd have a long way to gain any of Marissa's respect. If it ever was winnable.

"If it's about the juice thing, I'm sorry. It's just mercs and me...well, it's nothing personal. Well it is something personal but it's a long tale that I'm sure you're not interesting in. Got enough to do without listen to stories from the old, almost washed up marine officer."

"While I think what you did was rude and uncalled for, you outrank me." Marissa said. "There's no reason to dwell on it. I'm here for other reasons."

She was here to talk about the Away Team and about finding a way to work together. Most people had a problem with true Mercs and while she was frustrated he was okay with it one moment and not the next, she figured that Lillian's influence on him had made him think more about the past.

Nodding at that she shrugged. "You can tell me whatever story you want."

"Well, if you're sure..." said Taylor slowly as he took off his armour and brushed down his combat fatigues. They were still technically uniform but the duty uniforms were a lot more formal in comparison. Even then Taylor had no problem with wearing it himself. He tied his pistol belt around his belt, making sure his Type-IIM pistol was on safe.

"It's nothing specific since I think I already covered the main details of my utter disdain for mercenaries." began the marine as he sat on the bench. "I've fought against them, lost friends to them...all because they want some latinum. They don't answer to any higher authority other than the highest bidder. Sure most of them have a code but only as long as the money keeps coming. Make what you want out of that."

With a small sigh Taylor pinched the bridge when a rush of pent up stress left standing from his training simulation shot through nerves before settling back. Honestly even with Lillian he was always worrying and stressing out about the future and the past. It was like he had finally cut all of the weight off his shoulders and now it had been dumped back on him. Taylor' could feel his legs buckling already. One day the stress was going to make take his eye off the ball. What happened then was up to fate.

"What did you want to talk to me about lieutenant?"

||USS Fenris
||Marine Armory
||TBD

Marissa took a deep breath as she headed to talk to Taylor. While she was still pissed off about the smoke in juice incident, he outranked her now and she had to let it go. Besides he was sleeping with the boss. If she made a misstep then she knew that would affect what Lillian thought as well. Last thing she needed was the pregnant captain pissed off before she had license to be.

"Be on your best behavior, Mars," she said gently to herself.

Bracing herself she entered the room and looked around. Mostly she wanted this over with, but she'd seen the list and they had to get along. At least tolerate each other professionally...

"Lucas," she called out, realizing she probably should have been more formal...oh well.

Taylor was currently alone in the armoury taking care of the armour pieces that he had shed from himself. The chest and arm plates were hanging up in his locker as he inspected them. He was still wearing his olive drab fatigue shirt along with the plates of the lower half of the armour suit. His carbine and pistol were lying on the bench near him as he fetched some tools to dismantle them and put them together. For Taylor it was like some ritual to do. Weapon maintenance was like that for every marine.

When he heard Marissa call out his surname he frowned at the familiar voice calling out his surname and spun around to find her standing at the door. "Lieutenant." he said with a small grin. After the rather appeasing training simulation he wasn't in the mood to adhere to the rank calling. For him anyway. For Taylor respect for the rank was everything. Respect for the person wearing it...well, he figured after his stunt in the canteen he'd have a long way to gain any of Marissa's respect. If it ever was winnable.

"If it's about the juice thing, I'm sorry. It's just mercs and me...well, it's nothing personal. Well it is something personal but it's a long tale that I'm sure you're not interesting in. Got enough to do without listen to stories from the old, almost washed up marine officer."

"While I think what you did was rude and uncalled for, you outrank me." Marissa said. "There's no reason to dwell on it. I'm here for other reasons."

She was here to talk about the Away Team and about finding a way to work together. Most people had a problem with true Mercs and while she was frustrated he was okay with it one moment and not the next, she figured that Lillian's influence on him had made him think more about the past.

Nodding at that she shrugged. "You can tell me whatever story you want."

"Well, if you're sure..." said Taylor slowly as he took off his armour and brushed down his combat fatigues. They were still technically uniform but the duty uniforms were a lot more formal in comparison. Even then Taylor had no problem with wearing it himself. He tied his pistol belt around his belt, making sure his Type-IIM pistol was on safe.

"It's nothing specific since I think I already covered the main details of my utter disdain for mercenaries." began the marine as he sat on the bench. "I've fought against them, lost friends to them...all because they want some latinum. They don't answer to any higher authority other than the highest bidder. Sure most of them have a code but only as long as the money keeps coming. Make what you want out of that."

With a small sigh Taylor pinched the bridge when a rush of pent up stress left standing from his training simulation shot through nerves before settling back. Honestly even with Lillian he was always worrying and stressing out about the future and the past. It was like he had finally cut all of the weight off his shoulders and now it had been dumped back on him. Taylor' could feel his legs buckling already. One day the stress was going to make take his eye off the ball. What happened then was up to fate.

"What did you want to talk to me about lieutenant?"

"No, I hear you there and I agree with you. No one should ever be taken advantage of for money and I assure you that won't happen here. I don't feel I have to explain it all to you since you're, well, not going to be part of my team, but we're fighting for the same things here and I want us to be able to get along." Marissa told him as she ran her fingers through her hair.

That said she took a deep breath. "I wanted to talk to you about the Away Mission. I know that you outrank me and that Commander Bakel is in charge, but I'm hoping that we can find a way to work together on this mission--see eye to eye. It's simple enough but with it just being you and me as protective, I need to know you have our backs."

||USS Fenris
||Marine Armory
||TBD

Marissa took a deep breath as she headed to talk to Taylor. While she was still pissed off about the smoke in juice incident, he outranked her now and she had to let it go. Besides he was sleeping with the boss. If she made a misstep then she knew that would affect what Lillian thought as well. Last thing she needed was the pregnant captain pissed off before she had license to be.

"Be on your best behavior, Mars," she said gently to herself.

Bracing herself she entered the room and looked around. Mostly she wanted this over with, but she'd seen the list and they had to get along. At least tolerate each other professionally...

"Lucas," she called out, realizing she probably should have been more formal...oh well.

Taylor was currently alone in the armoury taking care of the armour pieces that he had shed from himself. The chest and arm plates were hanging up in his locker as he inspected them. He was still wearing his olive drab fatigue shirt along with the plates of the lower half of the armour suit. His carbine and pistol were lying on the bench near him as he fetched some tools to dismantle them and put them together. For Taylor it was like some ritual to do. Weapon maintenance was like that for every marine.

When he heard Marissa call out his surname he frowned at the familiar voice calling out his surname and spun around to find her standing at the door. "Lieutenant." he said with a small grin. After the rather appeasing training simulation he wasn't in the mood to adhere to the rank calling. For him anyway. For Taylor respect for the rank was everything. Respect for the person wearing it...well, he figured after his stunt in the canteen he'd have a long way to gain any of Marissa's respect. If it ever was winnable.

"If it's about the juice thing, I'm sorry. It's just mercs and me...well, it's nothing personal. Well it is something personal but it's a long tale that I'm sure you're not interesting in. Got enough to do without listen to stories from the old, almost washed up marine officer."

"While I think what you did was rude and uncalled for, you outrank me." Marissa said. "There's no reason to dwell on it. I'm here for other reasons."

She was here to talk about the Away Team and about finding a way to work together. Most people had a problem with true Mercs and while she was frustrated he was okay with it one moment and not the next, she figured that Lillian's influence on him had made him think more about the past.

Nodding at that she shrugged. "You can tell me whatever story you want."

"Well, if you're sure..." said Taylor slowly as he took off his armour and brushed down his combat fatigues. They were still technically uniform but the duty uniforms were a lot more formal in comparison. Even then Taylor had no problem with wearing it himself. He tied his pistol belt around his belt, making sure his Type-IIM pistol was on safe.

"It's nothing specific since I think I already covered the main details of my utter disdain for mercenaries." began the marine as he sat on the bench. "I've fought against them, lost friends to them...all because they want some latinum. They don't answer to any higher authority other than the highest bidder. Sure most of them have a code but only as long as the money keeps coming. Make what you want out of that."

With a small sigh Taylor pinched the bridge when a rush of pent up stress left standing from his training simulation shot through nerves before settling back. Honestly even with Lillian he was always worrying and stressing out about the future and the past. It was like he had finally cut all of the weight off his shoulders and now it had been dumped back on him. Taylor' could feel his legs buckling already. One day the stress was going to make take his eye off the ball. What happened then was up to fate.

"What did you want to talk to me about lieutenant?"

"No, I hear you there and I agree with you. No one should ever be taken advantage of for money and I assure you that won't happen here. I don't feel I have to explain it all to you since you're, well, not going to be part of my team, but we're fighting for the same things here and I want us to be able to get along." Marissa told him as she ran her fingers through her hair.

That said she took a deep breath. "I wanted to talk to you about the Away Mission. I know that you outrank me and that Commander Bakel is in charge, but I'm hoping that we can find a way to work together on this mission--see eye to eye. It's simple enough but with it just being you and me as protective, I need to know you have our backs."

Making a sound of indifference at Marissa half agreeing with him then withholding whatever details she thought he'd want Taylor just looked at the security chief with an air of neither acceptance nor denial. Taylor hadn't really formed an opinion about Marissa yet till he saw some positive interaction rather than the tense conversations they had previously had. Well, tense bordering hostile.

"Lieutenant there is nothing stopping me from watching your back. You wear that uniform that means you're entitled to the same assistance anyone on this ship would get from myself and my department. I really don't want Marine/Security politics. I just want smooth operations all across the board. Thing you can give me that?"

||USS Fenris
||Marine Armory
||1040

Marissa took a deep breath as she headed to talk to Taylor. While she was still pissed off about the smoke in juice incident, he outranked her now and she had to let it go. Besides he was sleeping with the boss. If she made a misstep then she knew that would affect what Lillian thought as well. Last thing she needed was the pregnant captain pissed off before she had license to be.

"Be on your best behavior, Mars," she said gently to herself.

Bracing herself she entered the room and looked around. Mostly she wanted this over with, but she'd seen the list and they had to get along. At least tolerate each other professionally...

"Lucas," she called out, realizing she probably should have been more formal...oh well.

Taylor was currently alone in the armoury taking care of the armour pieces that he had shed from himself. The chest and arm plates were hanging up in his locker as he inspected them. He was still wearing his olive drab fatigue shirt along with the plates of the lower half of the armour suit. His carbine and pistol were lying on the bench near him as he fetched some tools to dismantle them and put them together. For Taylor it was like some ritual to do. Weapon maintenance was like that for every marine.

When he heard Marissa call out his surname he frowned at the familiar voice calling out his surname and spun around to find her standing at the door. "Lieutenant." he said with a small grin. After the rather appeasing training simulation he wasn't in the mood to adhere to the rank calling. For him anyway. For Taylor respect for the rank was everything. Respect for the person wearing it...well, he figured after his stunt in the canteen he'd have a long way to gain any of Marissa's respect. If it ever was winnable.

"If it's about the juice thing, I'm sorry. It's just mercs and me...well, it's nothing personal. Well it is something personal but it's a long tale that I'm sure you're not interesting in. Got enough to do without listen to stories from the old, almost washed up marine officer."

"While I think what you did was rude and uncalled for, you outrank me." Marissa said. "There's no reason to dwell on it. I'm here for other reasons."

She was here to talk about the Away Team and about finding a way to work together. Most people had a problem with true Mercs and while she was frustrated he was okay with it one moment and not the next, she figured that Lillian's influence on him had made him think more about the past.

Nodding at that she shrugged. "You can tell me whatever story you want."

"Well, if you're sure..." said Taylor slowly as he took off his armour and brushed down his combat fatigues. They were still technically uniform but the duty uniforms were a lot more formal in comparison. Even then Taylor had no problem with wearing it himself. He tied his pistol belt around his belt, making sure his Type-IIM pistol was on safe.

"It's nothing specific since I think I already covered the main details of my utter disdain for mercenaries." began the marine as he sat on the bench. "I've fought against them, lost friends to them...all because they want some latinum. They don't answer to any higher authority other than the highest bidder. Sure most of them have a code but only as long as the money keeps coming. Make what you want out of that."

With a small sigh Taylor pinched the bridge when a rush of pent up stress left standing from his training simulation shot through nerves before settling back. Honestly even with Lillian he was always worrying and stressing out about the future and the past. It was like he had finally cut all of the weight off his shoulders and now it had been dumped back on him. Taylor' could feel his legs buckling already. One day the stress was going to make take his eye off the ball. What happened then was up to fate.

"What did you want to talk to me about lieutenant?"

"No, I hear you there and I agree with you. No one should ever be taken advantage of for money and I assure you that won't happen here. I don't feel I have to explain it all to you since you're, well, not going to be part of my team, but we're fighting for the same things here and I want us to be able to get along." Marissa told him as she ran her fingers through her hair.

That said she took a deep breath. "I wanted to talk to you about the Away Mission. I know that you outrank me and that Commander Bakel is in charge, but I'm hoping that we can find a way to work together on this mission--see eye to eye. It's simple enough but with it just being you and me as protective, I need to know you have our backs."

Making a sound of indifference at Marissa half agreeing with him then withholding whatever details she thought he'd want Taylor just looked at the security chief with an air of neither acceptance nor denial. Taylor hadn't really formed an opinion about Marissa yet till he saw some positive interaction rather than the tense conversations they had previously had. Well, tense bordering hostile.

"Lieutenant there is nothing stopping me from watching your back. You wear that uniform that means you're entitled to the same assistance anyone on this ship would get from myself and my department. I really don't want Marine/Security politics. I just want smooth operations all across the board. Thing you can give me that?"

"I don't want them either--ideally we should work together peacfully. Something just changed from the man that came to me for help and the man that I spoke to in the Mess Hall." she explained to him. "You can't expect me to just accept such a change. Would you? If someone was just suddenly different?"

Marissa waved it off just in case it got frustrating. Taylor would do as he pleased and it wasn't her place to question that. All Marissa could do was take this as it was and get over it. They had a mission to do together and they'd work together just fine. Besides, with the faith she had in Lillian she had to blindly trust her MCO choice.

"We should run our men through some simulations together when we get back. See how we work together."

||USS Fenris
||Marine Armory
||1040

Marissa took a deep breath as she headed to talk to Taylor. While she was still pissed off about the smoke in juice incident, he outranked her now and she had to let it go. Besides he was sleeping with the boss. If she made a misstep then she knew that would affect what Lillian thought as well. Last thing she needed was the pregnant captain pissed off before she had license to be.

"Be on your best behavior, Mars," she said gently to herself.

Bracing herself she entered the room and looked around. Mostly she wanted this over with, but she'd seen the list and they had to get along. At least tolerate each other professionally...

"Lucas," she called out, realizing she probably should have been more formal...oh well.

Taylor was currently alone in the armoury taking care of the armour pieces that he had shed from himself. The chest and arm plates were hanging up in his locker as he inspected them. He was still wearing his olive drab fatigue shirt along with the plates of the lower half of the armour suit. His carbine and pistol were lying on the bench near him as he fetched some tools to dismantle them and put them together. For Taylor it was like some ritual to do. Weapon maintenance was like that for every marine.

When he heard Marissa call out his surname he frowned at the familiar voice calling out his surname and spun around to find her standing at the door. "Lieutenant." he said with a small grin. After the rather appeasing training simulation he wasn't in the mood to adhere to the rank calling. For him anyway. For Taylor respect for the rank was everything. Respect for the person wearing it...well, he figured after his stunt in the canteen he'd have a long way to gain any of Marissa's respect. If it ever was winnable.

"If it's about the juice thing, I'm sorry. It's just mercs and me...well, it's nothing personal. Well it is something personal but it's a long tale that I'm sure you're not interesting in. Got enough to do without listen to stories from the old, almost washed up marine officer."

"While I think what you did was rude and uncalled for, you outrank me." Marissa said. "There's no reason to dwell on it. I'm here for other reasons."

She was here to talk about the Away Team and about finding a way to work together. Most people had a problem with true Mercs and while she was frustrated he was okay with it one moment and not the next, she figured that Lillian's influence on him had made him think more about the past.

Nodding at that she shrugged. "You can tell me whatever story you want."

"Well, if you're sure..." said Taylor slowly as he took off his armour and brushed down his combat fatigues. They were still technically uniform but the duty uniforms were a lot more formal in comparison. Even then Taylor had no problem with wearing it himself. He tied his pistol belt around his belt, making sure his Type-IIM pistol was on safe.

"It's nothing specific since I think I already covered the main details of my utter disdain for mercenaries." began the marine as he sat on the bench. "I've fought against them, lost friends to them...all because they want some latinum. They don't answer to any higher authority other than the highest bidder. Sure most of them have a code but only as long as the money keeps coming. Make what you want out of that."

With a small sigh Taylor pinched the bridge when a rush of pent up stress left standing from his training simulation shot through nerves before settling back. Honestly even with Lillian he was always worrying and stressing out about the future and the past. It was like he had finally cut all of the weight off his shoulders and now it had been dumped back on him. Taylor' could feel his legs buckling already. One day the stress was going to make take his eye off the ball. What happened then was up to fate.

"What did you want to talk to me about lieutenant?"

"No, I hear you there and I agree with you. No one should ever be taken advantage of for money and I assure you that won't happen here. I don't feel I have to explain it all to you since you're, well, not going to be part of my team, but we're fighting for the same things here and I want us to be able to get along." Marissa told him as she ran her fingers through her hair.

That said she took a deep breath. "I wanted to talk to you about the Away Mission. I know that you outrank me and that Commander Bakel is in charge, but I'm hoping that we can find a way to work together on this mission--see eye to eye. It's simple enough but with it just being you and me as protective, I need to know you have our backs."

Making a sound of indifference at Marissa half agreeing with him then withholding whatever details she thought he'd want Taylor just looked at the security chief with an air of neither acceptance nor denial. Taylor hadn't really formed an opinion about Marissa yet till he saw some positive interaction rather than the tense conversations they had previously had. Well, tense bordering hostile.

"Lieutenant there is nothing stopping me from watching your back. You wear that uniform that means you're entitled to the same assistance anyone on this ship would get from myself and my department. I really don't want Marine/Security politics. I just want smooth operations all across the board. Think you can give me that?"

"I don't want them either--ideally we should work together peacfully. Something just changed from the man that came to me for help and the man that I spoke to in the Mess Hall." she explained to him. "You can't expect me to just accept such a change. Would you? If someone was just suddenly different?"

Marissa waved it off just in case it got frustrating. Taylor would do as he pleased and it wasn't her place to question that. All Marissa could do was take this as it was and get over it. They had a mission to do together and they'd work together just fine. Besides, with the faith she had in Lillian she had to blindly trust her MCO choice.

"We should run our men through some simulations together when we get back. See how we work together."

"Course I would, it's called adapting." replied Taylor patiently. "Semper Flexibilis; Always Flexible. We ain't banging, we ain't married and we ain't friends. How we act towards each other is of no concern to me. All that I'm concerned with is that when we go out on a mission we try to bring as many back with us as we can."

Taylor liked the idea of running drills and while he did care about Marissa's well being it was whatever opinion she had cooked up about him if any that he classed as irrelevant. Guess he'd have to do something 'heroic' to get some form of trust out of her. Respect was earned and Taylor wasn't looking for it from anyone in this crew. So was trust but he figured that if he was going to do as he did on Starbase Seven; stick his neck out for people who wouldn't otherwise care he'd need some trust.

"Good idea lieutenant. I wouldn't exactly expect your yellow jackets to stand in a ground exercise and despite being Fleet Protection we're not experts in anti-boarding actions. We're attackers, not defenders. Sure we can switch but marines are used to being on the attack. Could use some pointers. Hell take a took at our weapons and equipment stock. Managed to 'procure' a crate of surplus marine rifles and carbines. Should give you an edge."

||USS Fenris
||Marine Armory
||1040

Marissa took a deep breath as she headed to talk to Taylor. While she was still pissed off about the smoke in juice incident, he outranked her now and she had to let it go. Besides he was sleeping with the boss. If she made a misstep then she knew that would affect what Lillian thought as well. Last thing she needed was the pregnant captain pissed off before she had license to be.

"Be on your best behavior, Mars," she said gently to herself.

Bracing herself she entered the room and looked around. Mostly she wanted this over with, but she'd seen the list and they had to get along. At least tolerate each other professionally...

"Lucas," she called out, realizing she probably should have been more formal...oh well.

Taylor was currently alone in the armoury taking care of the armour pieces that he had shed from himself. The chest and arm plates were hanging up in his locker as he inspected them. He was still wearing his olive drab fatigue shirt along with the plates of the lower half of the armour suit. His carbine and pistol were lying on the bench near him as he fetched some tools to dismantle them and put them together. For Taylor it was like some ritual to do. Weapon maintenance was like that for every marine.

When he heard Marissa call out his surname he frowned at the familiar voice calling out his surname and spun around to find her standing at the door. "Lieutenant." he said with a small grin. After the rather appeasing training simulation he wasn't in the mood to adhere to the rank calling. For him anyway. For Taylor respect for the rank was everything. Respect for the person wearing it...well, he figured after his stunt in the canteen he'd have a long way to gain any of Marissa's respect. If it ever was winnable.

"If it's about the juice thing, I'm sorry. It's just mercs and me...well, it's nothing personal. Well it is something personal but it's a long tale that I'm sure you're not interesting in. Got enough to do without listen to stories from the old, almost washed up marine officer."

"While I think what you did was rude and uncalled for, you outrank me." Marissa said. "There's no reason to dwell on it. I'm here for other reasons."

She was here to talk about the Away Team and about finding a way to work together. Most people had a problem with true Mercs and while she was frustrated he was okay with it one moment and not the next, she figured that Lillian's influence on him had made him think more about the past.

Nodding at that she shrugged. "You can tell me whatever story you want."

"Well, if you're sure..." said Taylor slowly as he took off his armour and brushed down his combat fatigues. They were still technically uniform but the duty uniforms were a lot more formal in comparison. Even then Taylor had no problem with wearing it himself. He tied his pistol belt around his belt, making sure his Type-IIM pistol was on safe.

"It's nothing specific since I think I already covered the main details of my utter disdain for mercenaries." began the marine as he sat on the bench. "I've fought against them, lost friends to them...all because they want some latinum. They don't answer to any higher authority other than the highest bidder. Sure most of them have a code but only as long as the money keeps coming. Make what you want out of that."

With a small sigh Taylor pinched the bridge when a rush of pent up stress left standing from his training simulation shot through nerves before settling back. Honestly even with Lillian he was always worrying and stressing out about the future and the past. It was like he had finally cut all of the weight off his shoulders and now it had been dumped back on him. Taylor' could feel his legs buckling already. One day the stress was going to make take his eye off the ball. What happened then was up to fate.

"What did you want to talk to me about lieutenant?"

"No, I hear you there and I agree with you. No one should ever be taken advantage of for money and I assure you that won't happen here. I don't feel I have to explain it all to you since you're, well, not going to be part of my team, but we're fighting for the same things here and I want us to be able to get along." Marissa told him as she ran her fingers through her hair.

That said she took a deep breath. "I wanted to talk to you about the Away Mission. I know that you outrank me and that Commander Bakel is in charge, but I'm hoping that we can find a way to work together on this mission--see eye to eye. It's simple enough but with it just being you and me as protective, I need to know you have our backs."

Making a sound of indifference at Marissa half agreeing with him then withholding whatever details she thought he'd want Taylor just looked at the security chief with an air of neither acceptance nor denial. Taylor hadn't really formed an opinion about Marissa yet till he saw some positive interaction rather than the tense conversations they had previously had. Well, tense bordering hostile.

"Lieutenant there is nothing stopping me from watching your back. You wear that uniform that means you're entitled to the same assistance anyone on this ship would get from myself and my department. I really don't want Marine/Security politics. I just want smooth operations all across the board. Think you can give me that?"

"I don't want them either--ideally we should work together peacfully. Something just changed from the man that came to me for help and the man that I spoke to in the Mess Hall." she explained to him. "You can't expect me to just accept such a change. Would you? If someone was just suddenly different?"

Marissa waved it off just in case it got frustrating. Taylor would do as he pleased and it wasn't her place to question that. All Marissa could do was take this as it was and get over it. They had a mission to do together and they'd work together just fine. Besides, with the faith she had in Lillian she had to blindly trust her MCO choice.

"We should run our men through some simulations together when we get back. See how we work together."

"Course I would, it's called adapting." replied Taylor patiently. "Semper Flexibilis; Always Flexible. We ain't banging, we ain't married and we ain't friends. How we act towards each other is of no concern to me. All that I'm concerned with is that when we go out on a mission we try to bring as many back with us as we can."

Taylor liked the idea of running drills and while he did care about Marissa's well being it was whatever opinion she had cooked up about him if any that he classed as irrelevant. Guess he'd have to do something 'heroic' to get some form of trust out of her. Respect was earned and Taylor wasn't looking for it from anyone in this crew. So was trust but he figured that if he was going to do as he did on Starbase Seven; stick his neck out for people who wouldn't otherwise care he'd need some trust.

"Good idea lieutenant. I wouldn't exactly expect your yellow jackets to stand in a ground exercise and despite being Fleet Protection we're not experts in anti-boarding actions. We're attackers, not defenders. Sure we can switch but marines are used to being on the attack. Could use some pointers. Hell take a took at our weapons and equipment stock. Managed to 'procure' a crate of surplus marine rifles and carbines. Should give you an edge."

"Fair enough," she said with a nod. "I suppose in this line of work you do need to be able to adapt..."

She hated admitting he was right.

She hated more his assumption about her men.

"You'd be surprised about my men. We're not as trained as marines but we handle our own in battle." she said. "You're backed by a good security force. I would like a gander at the weapons though: I like having an edge over my opponent." She smiled at Taylor and patted his arm. "There's hope for the friend part yet, Lucas. You still frustrate me off the clock as I can't figure you out. Not my job though, is it?"

||USS Fenris
||Marine Armory
||1040

Marissa took a deep breath as she headed to talk to Taylor. While she was still pissed off about the smoke in juice incident, he outranked her now and she had to let it go. Besides he was sleeping with the boss. If she made a misstep then she knew that would affect what Lillian thought as well. Last thing she needed was the pregnant captain pissed off before she had license to be.

"Be on your best behavior, Mars," she said gently to herself.

Bracing herself she entered the room and looked around. Mostly she wanted this over with, but she'd seen the list and they had to get along. At least tolerate each other professionally...

"Lucas," she called out, realizing she probably should have been more formal...oh well.

Taylor was currently alone in the armoury taking care of the armour pieces that he had shed from himself. The chest and arm plates were hanging up in his locker as he inspected them. He was still wearing his olive drab fatigue shirt along with the plates of the lower half of the armour suit. His carbine and pistol were lying on the bench near him as he fetched some tools to dismantle them and put them together. For Taylor it was like some ritual to do. Weapon maintenance was like that for every marine.

When he heard Marissa call out his surname he frowned at the familiar voice calling out his surname and spun around to find her standing at the door. "Lieutenant." he said with a small grin. After the rather appeasing training simulation he wasn't in the mood to adhere to the rank calling. For him anyway. For Taylor respect for the rank was everything. Respect for the person wearing it...well, he figured after his stunt in the canteen he'd have a long way to gain any of Marissa's respect. If it ever was winnable.

"If it's about the juice thing, I'm sorry. It's just mercs and me...well, it's nothing personal. Well it is something personal but it's a long tale that I'm sure you're not interesting in. Got enough to do without listen to stories from the old, almost washed up marine officer."

"While I think what you did was rude and uncalled for, you outrank me." Marissa said. "There's no reason to dwell on it. I'm here for other reasons."

She was here to talk about the Away Team and about finding a way to work together. Most people had a problem with true Mercs and while she was frustrated he was okay with it one moment and not the next, she figured that Lillian's influence on him had made him think more about the past.

Nodding at that she shrugged. "You can tell me whatever story you want."

"Well, if you're sure..." said Taylor slowly as he took off his armour and brushed down his combat fatigues. They were still technically uniform but the duty uniforms were a lot more formal in comparison. Even then Taylor had no problem with wearing it himself. He tied his pistol belt around his belt, making sure his Type-IIM pistol was on safe.

"It's nothing specific since I think I already covered the main details of my utter disdain for mercenaries." began the marine as he sat on the bench. "I've fought against them, lost friends to them...all because they want some latinum. They don't answer to any higher authority other than the highest bidder. Sure most of them have a code but only as long as the money keeps coming. Make what you want out of that."

With a small sigh Taylor pinched the bridge when a rush of pent up stress left standing from his training simulation shot through nerves before settling back. Honestly even with Lillian he was always worrying and stressing out about the future and the past. It was like he had finally cut all of the weight off his shoulders and now it had been dumped back on him. Taylor' could feel his legs buckling already. One day the stress was going to make take his eye off the ball. What happened then was up to fate.

"What did you want to talk to me about lieutenant?"

"No, I hear you there and I agree with you. No one should ever be taken advantage of for money and I assure you that won't happen here. I don't feel I have to explain it all to you since you're, well, not going to be part of my team, but we're fighting for the same things here and I want us to be able to get along." Marissa told him as she ran her fingers through her hair.

That said she took a deep breath. "I wanted to talk to you about the Away Mission. I know that you outrank me and that Commander Bakel is in charge, but I'm hoping that we can find a way to work together on this mission--see eye to eye. It's simple enough but with it just being you and me as protective, I need to know you have our backs."

Making a sound of indifference at Marissa half agreeing with him then withholding whatever details she thought he'd want Taylor just looked at the security chief with an air of neither acceptance nor denial. Taylor hadn't really formed an opinion about Marissa yet till he saw some positive interaction rather than the tense conversations they had previously had. Well, tense bordering hostile.

"Lieutenant there is nothing stopping me from watching your back. You wear that uniform that means you're entitled to the same assistance anyone on this ship would get from myself and my department. I really don't want Marine/Security politics. I just want smooth operations all across the board. Think you can give me that?"

"I don't want them either--ideally we should work together peacfully. Something just changed from the man that came to me for help and the man that I spoke to in the Mess Hall." she explained to him. "You can't expect me to just accept such a change. Would you? If someone was just suddenly different?"

Marissa waved it off just in case it got frustrating. Taylor would do as he pleased and it wasn't her place to question that. All Marissa could do was take this as it was and get over it. They had a mission to do together and they'd work together just fine. Besides, with the faith she had in Lillian she had to blindly trust her MCO choice.

"We should run our men through some simulations together when we get back. See how we work together."

"Course I would, it's called adapting." replied Taylor patiently. "Semper Flexibilis; Always Flexible. We ain't banging, we ain't married and we ain't friends. How we act towards each other is of no concern to me. All that I'm concerned with is that when we go out on a mission we try to bring as many back with us as we can."

Taylor liked the idea of running drills and while he did care about Marissa's well being it was whatever opinion she had cooked up about him if any that he classed as irrelevant. Guess he'd have to do something 'heroic' to get some form of trust out of her. Respect was earned and Taylor wasn't looking for it from anyone in this crew. So was trust but he figured that if he was going to do as he did on Starbase Seven; stick his neck out for people who wouldn't otherwise care he'd need some trust.

"Good idea lieutenant. I wouldn't exactly expect your yellow jackets to stand in a ground exercise and despite being Fleet Protection we're not experts in anti-boarding actions. We're attackers, not defenders. Sure we can switch but marines are used to being on the attack. Could use some pointers. Hell take a took at our weapons and equipment stock. Managed to 'procure' a crate of surplus marine rifles and carbines. Should give you an edge."

"Fair enough," she said with a nod. "I suppose in this line of work you do need to be able to adapt..."

She hated admitting he was right.

She hated more his assumption about her men.

"You'd be surprised about my men. We're not as trained as marines but we handle our own in battle." she said. "You're backed by a good security force. I would like a gander at the weapons though: I like having an edge over my opponent." She smiled at Taylor and patted his arm. "There's hope for the friend part yet, Lucas. You still frustrate me off the clock as I can't figure you out. Not my job though, is it?"

"I'm not doubting the quality of your department than its flexibility." said the marine defensively with raised hands in a posture of submission. The last thing Taylor wanted was to start snide comments between the two combat departments cause that's how it started. Comments. Then the next thing you know there's a fistfight in the mess hall. He had done this dance enough times to know that this was probably a critical moment of ship politics.

"Most try and figure me out for their own reasons." explained Taylor. "Some for romantic reasons, other for professional. Some because they have nothing better to do with their day. Whatever your motive for trying to figure me out all you need to remember that I'll probably piss you off till you either like me or hate me for it. Marines understand me because we think along the same pattern. Captain Crae understands me because I apparently have certain qualities she finds admirable. I ain't looking for a fan base, just ways to make my job easier. I'm all about the job."

||USS Fenris
||Marine Armory
||1040

Marissa took a deep breath as she headed to talk to Taylor. While she was still pissed off about the smoke in juice incident, he outranked her now and she had to let it go. Besides he was sleeping with the boss. If she made a misstep then she knew that would affect what Lillian thought as well. Last thing she needed was the pregnant captain pissed off before she had license to be.

"Be on your best behavior, Mars," she said gently to herself.

Bracing herself she entered the room and looked around. Mostly she wanted this over with, but she'd seen the list and they had to get along. At least tolerate each other professionally...

"Lucas," she called out, realizing she probably should have been more formal...oh well.

Taylor was currently alone in the armoury taking care of the armour pieces that he had shed from himself. The chest and arm plates were hanging up in his locker as he inspected them. He was still wearing his olive drab fatigue shirt along with the plates of the lower half of the armour suit. His carbine and pistol were lying on the bench near him as he fetched some tools to dismantle them and put them together. For Taylor it was like some ritual to do. Weapon maintenance was like that for every marine.

When he heard Marissa call out his surname he frowned at the familiar voice calling out his surname and spun around to find her standing at the door. "Lieutenant." he said with a small grin. After the rather appeasing training simulation he wasn't in the mood to adhere to the rank calling. For him anyway. For Taylor respect for the rank was everything. Respect for the person wearing it...well, he figured after his stunt in the canteen he'd have a long way to gain any of Marissa's respect. If it ever was winnable.

"If it's about the juice thing, I'm sorry. It's just mercs and me...well, it's nothing personal. Well it is something personal but it's a long tale that I'm sure you're not interesting in. Got enough to do without listen to stories from the old, almost washed up marine officer."

"While I think what you did was rude and uncalled for, you outrank me." Marissa said. "There's no reason to dwell on it. I'm here for other reasons."

She was here to talk about the Away Team and about finding a way to work together. Most people had a problem with true Mercs and while she was frustrated he was okay with it one moment and not the next, she figured that Lillian's influence on him had made him think more about the past.

Nodding at that she shrugged. "You can tell me whatever story you want."

"Well, if you're sure..." said Taylor slowly as he took off his armour and brushed down his combat fatigues. They were still technically uniform but the duty uniforms were a lot more formal in comparison. Even then Taylor had no problem with wearing it himself. He tied his pistol belt around his belt, making sure his Type-IIM pistol was on safe.

"It's nothing specific since I think I already covered the main details of my utter disdain for mercenaries." began the marine as he sat on the bench. "I've fought against them, lost friends to them...all because they want some latinum. They don't answer to any higher authority other than the highest bidder. Sure most of them have a code but only as long as the money keeps coming. Make what you want out of that."

With a small sigh Taylor pinched the bridge when a rush of pent up stress left standing from his training simulation shot through nerves before settling back. Honestly even with Lillian he was always worrying and stressing out about the future and the past. It was like he had finally cut all of the weight off his shoulders and now it had been dumped back on him. Taylor' could feel his legs buckling already. One day the stress was going to make take his eye off the ball. What happened then was up to fate.

"What did you want to talk to me about lieutenant?"

"No, I hear you there and I agree with you. No one should ever be taken advantage of for money and I assure you that won't happen here. I don't feel I have to explain it all to you since you're, well, not going to be part of my team, but we're fighting for the same things here and I want us to be able to get along." Marissa told him as she ran her fingers through her hair.

That said she took a deep breath. "I wanted to talk to you about the Away Mission. I know that you outrank me and that Commander Bakel is in charge, but I'm hoping that we can find a way to work together on this mission--see eye to eye. It's simple enough but with it just being you and me as protective, I need to know you have our backs."

Making a sound of indifference at Marissa half agreeing with him then withholding whatever details she thought he'd want Taylor just looked at the security chief with an air of neither acceptance nor denial. Taylor hadn't really formed an opinion about Marissa yet till he saw some positive interaction rather than the tense conversations they had previously had. Well, tense bordering hostile.

"Lieutenant there is nothing stopping me from watching your back. You wear that uniform that means you're entitled to the same assistance anyone on this ship would get from myself and my department. I really don't want Marine/Security politics. I just want smooth operations all across the board. Think you can give me that?"

"I don't want them either--ideally we should work together peacfully. Something just changed from the man that came to me for help and the man that I spoke to in the Mess Hall." she explained to him. "You can't expect me to just accept such a change. Would you? If someone was just suddenly different?"

Marissa waved it off just in case it got frustrating. Taylor would do as he pleased and it wasn't her place to question that. All Marissa could do was take this as it was and get over it. They had a mission to do together and they'd work together just fine. Besides, with the faith she had in Lillian she had to blindly trust her MCO choice.

"We should run our men through some simulations together when we get back. See how we work together."

"Course I would, it's called adapting." replied Taylor patiently. "Semper Flexibilis; Always Flexible. We ain't banging, we ain't married and we ain't friends. How we act towards each other is of no concern to me. All that I'm concerned with is that when we go out on a mission we try to bring as many back with us as we can."

Taylor liked the idea of running drills and while he did care about Marissa's well being it was whatever opinion she had cooked up about him if any that he classed as irrelevant. Guess he'd have to do something 'heroic' to get some form of trust out of her. Respect was earned and Taylor wasn't looking for it from anyone in this crew. So was trust but he figured that if he was going to do as he did on Starbase Seven; stick his neck out for people who wouldn't otherwise care he'd need some trust.

"Good idea lieutenant. I wouldn't exactly expect your yellow jackets to stand in a ground exercise and despite being Fleet Protection we're not experts in anti-boarding actions. We're attackers, not defenders. Sure we can switch but marines are used to being on the attack. Could use some pointers. Hell take a took at our weapons and equipment stock. Managed to 'procure' a crate of surplus marine rifles and carbines. Should give you an edge."

"Fair enough," she said with a nod. "I suppose in this line of work you do need to be able to adapt..."

She hated admitting he was right.

She hated more his assumption about her men.

"You'd be surprised about my men. We're not as trained as marines but we handle our own in battle." she said. "You're backed by a good security force. I would like a gander at the weapons though: I like having an edge over my opponent." She smiled at Taylor and patted his arm. "There's hope for the friend part yet, Lucas. You still frustrate me off the clock as I can't figure you out. Not my job though, is it?"

"I'm not doubting the quality of your department than its flexibility." said the marine defensively with raised hands in a posture of submission. The last thing Taylor wanted was to start snide comments between the two combat departments cause that's how it started. Comments. Then the next thing you know there's a fistfight in the mess hall. He had done this dance enough times to know that this was probably a critical moment of ship politics.

"Most try and figure me out for their own reasons." explained Taylor. "Some for romantic reasons, other for professional. Some because they have nothing better to do with their day. Whatever your motive for trying to figure me out all you need to remember that I'll probably piss you off till you either like me or hate me for it. Marines understand me because we think along the same pattern. Captain Crae understands me because I apparently have certain qualities she finds admirable. I ain't looking for a fan base, just ways to make my job easier. I'm all about the job."

"Oh God lets please start over," Marissa said laughing. "I have nothing against you, okay? Sharpe and Crae think you're a good, trustworthy guy and I have no issues working with you. We're moving past this and starting over. After this mission--we can't bring men, according to Cap, by the way--we'll run through some drills and see what happens. That's all I'm offering here. Sound good, Lucas?"

She started backing up toward the door with a smile on her face. "I'm sure you're a perfect addition to this team and I look forward to figuring you out. Not romantically of course. Last thing I need is an engineer and a pregnant captain on my ass. Besides, I have a feeling we're a bit too alike and when we met you didn't make my loins ache. Just gear up and we'll make this work, alright?"

||USS Fenris
||Marine Armory
||1040

Marissa took a deep breath as she headed to talk to Taylor. While she was still pissed off about the smoke in juice incident, he outranked her now and she had to let it go. Besides he was sleeping with the boss. If she made a misstep then she knew that would affect what Lillian thought as well. Last thing she needed was the pregnant captain pissed off before she had license to be.

"Be on your best behavior, Mars," she said gently to herself.

Bracing herself she entered the room and looked around. Mostly she wanted this over with, but she'd seen the list and they had to get along. At least tolerate each other professionally...

"Lucas," she called out, realizing she probably should have been more formal...oh well.

Taylor was currently alone in the armoury taking care of the armour pieces that he had shed from himself. The chest and arm plates were hanging up in his locker as he inspected them. He was still wearing his olive drab fatigue shirt along with the plates of the lower half of the armour suit. His carbine and pistol were lying on the bench near him as he fetched some tools to dismantle them and put them together. For Taylor it was like some ritual to do. Weapon maintenance was like that for every marine.

When he heard Marissa call out his surname he frowned at the familiar voice calling out his surname and spun around to find her standing at the door. "Lieutenant." he said with a small grin. After the rather appeasing training simulation he wasn't in the mood to adhere to the rank calling. For him anyway. For Taylor respect for the rank was everything. Respect for the person wearing it...well, he figured after his stunt in the canteen he'd have a long way to gain any of Marissa's respect. If it ever was winnable.

"If it's about the juice thing, I'm sorry. It's just mercs and me...well, it's nothing personal. Well it is something personal but it's a long tale that I'm sure you're not interesting in. Got enough to do without listen to stories from the old, almost washed up marine officer."

"While I think what you did was rude and uncalled for, you outrank me." Marissa said. "There's no reason to dwell on it. I'm here for other reasons."

She was here to talk about the Away Team and about finding a way to work together. Most people had a problem with true Mercs and while she was frustrated he was okay with it one moment and not the next, she figured that Lillian's influence on him had made him think more about the past.

Nodding at that she shrugged. "You can tell me whatever story you want."

"Well, if you're sure..." said Taylor slowly as he took off his armour and brushed down his combat fatigues. They were still technically uniform but the duty uniforms were a lot more formal in comparison. Even then Taylor had no problem with wearing it himself. He tied his pistol belt around his belt, making sure his Type-IIM pistol was on safe.

"It's nothing specific since I think I already covered the main details of my utter disdain for mercenaries." began the marine as he sat on the bench. "I've fought against them, lost friends to them...all because they want some latinum. They don't answer to any higher authority other than the highest bidder. Sure most of them have a code but only as long as the money keeps coming. Make what you want out of that."

With a small sigh Taylor pinched the bridge when a rush of pent up stress left standing from his training simulation shot through nerves before settling back. Honestly even with Lillian he was always worrying and stressing out about the future and the past. It was like he had finally cut all of the weight off his shoulders and now it had been dumped back on him. Taylor' could feel his legs buckling already. One day the stress was going to make take his eye off the ball. What happened then was up to fate.

"What did you want to talk to me about lieutenant?"

"No, I hear you there and I agree with you. No one should ever be taken advantage of for money and I assure you that won't happen here. I don't feel I have to explain it all to you since you're, well, not going to be part of my team, but we're fighting for the same things here and I want us to be able to get along." Marissa told him as she ran her fingers through her hair.

That said she took a deep breath. "I wanted to talk to you about the Away Mission. I know that you outrank me and that Commander Bakel is in charge, but I'm hoping that we can find a way to work together on this mission--see eye to eye. It's simple enough but with it just being you and me as protective, I need to know you have our backs."

Making a sound of indifference at Marissa half agreeing with him then withholding whatever details she thought he'd want Taylor just looked at the security chief with an air of neither acceptance nor denial. Taylor hadn't really formed an opinion about Marissa yet till he saw some positive interaction rather than the tense conversations they had previously had. Well, tense bordering hostile.

"Lieutenant there is nothing stopping me from watching your back. You wear that uniform that means you're entitled to the same assistance anyone on this ship would get from myself and my department. I really don't want Marine/Security politics. I just want smooth operations all across the board. Think you can give me that?"

"I don't want them either--ideally we should work together peacfully. Something just changed from the man that came to me for help and the man that I spoke to in the Mess Hall." she explained to him. "You can't expect me to just accept such a change. Would you? If someone was just suddenly different?"

Marissa waved it off just in case it got frustrating. Taylor would do as he pleased and it wasn't her place to question that. All Marissa could do was take this as it was and get over it. They had a mission to do together and they'd work together just fine. Besides, with the faith she had in Lillian she had to blindly trust her MCO choice.

"We should run our men through some simulations together when we get back. See how we work together."

"Course I would, it's called adapting." replied Taylor patiently. "Semper Flexibilis; Always Flexible. We ain't banging, we ain't married and we ain't friends. How we act towards each other is of no concern to me. All that I'm concerned with is that when we go out on a mission we try to bring as many back with us as we can."

Taylor liked the idea of running drills and while he did care about Marissa's well being it was whatever opinion she had cooked up about him if any that he classed as irrelevant. Guess he'd have to do something 'heroic' to get some form of trust out of her. Respect was earned and Taylor wasn't looking for it from anyone in this crew. So was trust but he figured that if he was going to do as he did on Starbase Seven; stick his neck out for people who wouldn't otherwise care he'd need some trust.

"Good idea lieutenant. I wouldn't exactly expect your yellow jackets to stand in a ground exercise and despite being Fleet Protection we're not experts in anti-boarding actions. We're attackers, not defenders. Sure we can switch but marines are used to being on the attack. Could use some pointers. Hell take a took at our weapons and equipment stock. Managed to 'procure' a crate of surplus marine rifles and carbines. Should give you an edge."

"Fair enough," she said with a nod. "I suppose in this line of work you do need to be able to adapt..."

She hated admitting he was right.

She hated more his assumption about her men.

"You'd be surprised about my men. We're not as trained as marines but we handle our own in battle." she said. "You're backed by a good security force. I would like a gander at the weapons though: I like having an edge over my opponent." She smiled at Taylor and patted his arm. "There's hope for the friend part yet, Lucas. You still frustrate me off the clock as I can't figure you out. Not my job though, is it?"

"I'm not doubting the quality of your department than its flexibility." said the marine defensively with raised hands in a posture of submission. The last thing Taylor wanted was to start snide comments between the two combat departments cause that's how it started. Comments. Then the next thing you know there's a fistfight in the mess hall. He had done this dance enough times to know that this was probably a critical moment of ship politics.

"Most try and figure me out for their own reasons." explained Taylor. "Some for romantic reasons, other for professional. Some because they have nothing better to do with their day. Whatever your motive for trying to figure me out all you need to remember that I'll probably piss you off till you either like me or hate me for it. Marines understand me because we think along the same pattern. Captain Crae understands me because I apparently have certain qualities she finds admirable. I ain't looking for a fan base, just ways to make my job easier. I'm all about the job."

"Oh God lets please start over," Marissa said laughing. "I have nothing against you, okay? Sharpe and Crae think you're a good, trustworthy guy and I have no issues working with you. We're moving past this and starting over. After this mission--we can't bring men, according to Cap, by the way--we'll run through some drills and see what happens. That's all I'm offering here. Sound good, Lucas?"

She started backing up toward the door with a smile on her face. "I'm sure you're a perfect addition to this team and I look forward to figuring you out. Not romantically of course. Last thing I need is an engineer and a pregnant captain on my ass. Besides, I have a feeling we're a bit too alike and when we met you didn't make my loins ache. Just gear up and we'll make this work, alright?"

"Just keep up lieutenant." quipped Taylor with a wink and a smile. "Don't let the greying hair fool you. Old dogs and their old tricks always win through."

(end?)

good to go.
I'll post it.