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02 July 2006 @ 03:14 pm
[Past] The two Adamas.  
Who: Bill and Lee Adama.
Where: Commander's quarters.
When: Blurry-time between the first and second episodes.
What: A chance to bond. Possibly? Maybe?



Adama stood framed by the dull luminescence of a standard lamp sat on the top of his desk. In his hand he had that same piece of octagonal stock that had been left for him to find weeks earlier. There are only Twelve cylon models... he folded the printout and pushed the same unanswered questions from his mind and returned it to his safe. As he shut the door there was a hesitant knock at his hatch.

"Come."

Lee stood on the other side, forcing his shoulders to release their tension. There was no denying one eventuality of this visit: it was going to be awkward. Conversations with his father had never failed to be so ever since he was assigned to the ship. Best to quickly get in and get out. Besides, there was plenty to be distracted by -- pilot rotations to be drawn up, repair schedules to be cleared with ground crew, even long, mostly uneventful CAP duties. Lee thumbed the After Actions Report in his hand and reached for the hatchway.

"Captain." Bill greeted his son tentatively. He did allow a smile to crease his face and gestured toward the brown leather sofa that skirted the bulkhead of his quarters.

"Sir," Lee greeted in respect, before setting the AAR on the Commander's desk and seating himself. The conclusion to the report was that a pilot was lost during the last Cylon sighting. He kept his eyes on the Commander, allowing a brief smile in reply to break the tension. "One of our Vipers has landed with a malfunctioning RCS system, two are being looked at by the Chief for bad wings. He's been asking for metal replacements." The truth was, he could sit there as an officer for as long as it required him to. Where the conversation may lead was what really put him at discomfort.

Bill took a seat, as far from the other man as the couch would allow. "We have too much work and not enough people to do it." He rubbed the bridge of his nose and exhaled slowly letting himself measure his own fatigue. "How are you holding up?"

The sight of the two of them to any passerby may have seemed ridiculous in retrospect, perhaps even silly. Lee had his legs crossed and his arms folded in a sure sign of closed body language. He shouldn't have sat down. "I'm holding up," Lee began. "Well...my body's beginning to get used to the lack of sleep. Insomnia's just another thing to deal with, sir." He bit back the urge to ask how his father was doing in return.

"The old hands," Bill eyebrows arched as he looked over to his son. "Used to tell us to eat and sleep whenever we could. It was good advice."




[OOC] Conversation to be finished on this thread.