Where's the manual for women, or the warranty for that matter?

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

After a two hour workout, Cirr was beat. He racked up the weights he'd set up aboard Whaladon, headed back in the Cat to Layla long enough to sonic shower, change clothes, and head out again to Valiant.

For once, he didn't have any maintenance to do, and Sanis was stuck doing inventory. He tried to stick that job on the felinoid, but Cirr convinced him to take it himself, mainly by holding the human upside down by the ankles. Normally, Cirr didn't mind the work, but he wasn't feeling it lately and just needed some time to himself. After a few shakes, Sanis agreed.

Landing the Cat, Cirr headed to the galley, guided by the growl at his midsection. He wanted to eat, and maybe curl up somewhere for a nap. Maybe that would help his mind get uncluttered. It was almost like he'd gotten sick. His brain was infected with Lyanie. Feed a fever, right? Plenty of rest, right?

[Abarai Loki]

Loki was stood at the back of the canteen queue when Cirrsseeto arrived. It was one of his rare visits to the Valiant; this time he'd come to collect a custom order from the quartermaster and under one arm was tucked a tightly packed bundle of clothes, freshly pressed and wrapped in plastic. The queue shuffled along and upon collecting his tray he noticed the arrival of the large felinoid.

"Good afternoon, lieutenant," he said, regarding the food laid out before him, "Have the Layla's food rations been depleted?"

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Cirr shook his head slightly, his ears bobbing a bit with the action.

"Just wanted a change of scenerry forr a bjit, jI guess."

He gestured to the small parcel Loki was carrying.

"New uniforrm?"

He saw Drex, the head line cook, out of the corner of his eye. The human knew what to expect from the felinoid, and began cobbling together a double serving for the big guy.

[Abarai Loki]

"If the Jedi are to work in the field with the Rebel Alliance then it's important for us to have a uniform front, in this case quite literally. Many of my peers fail to realise this but the alternative is to have the Rebel soldiers wearing Jedi robes, which is, of course, preposterous."

His tray was loaded with generous helpings of everything. For such a small boy, Loki's diet rivalled that of a very hungry grown man; when he wasn't training padawans, he was training himself, always, unless matters of trivial administration surfaced, which often they did, and what was left of his day was taken up with either sleep or food. In any case, his metabolism levels were through the roof, and despite this he noticed his meal was but a small mound compared to Cirrsseeto's mountain. He thanked Drex and waited for Cirrsseeto, then they made their way towards a free table.

"Your choice of venue is odd to say the least; this room is spartan, the scenery drab. I'm sure there are other vessels within the fleet with an aesthetic more suited to your tastes. Say, for example, the Knightfall."

He shot him the briefest glance as he sat.

[Justinian Atreides]

Justin was always so damn hungry by the time he got around to eating. Patrols, being pseudo-counselor, keeping an eye on Chrys and just being the man he was, eating fell by the wayside until his stomach felt like it was going to eat him from the inside out. It didn't matter how it tasted, just that it made the feeling of hunger go away or at least took the edge off until he could really sate it. Tray in hand, he looked around for a place to sit and spotted one familiar face and one semi-not-as-familiar.

"Oh, hey there Cirr!" He exclaimed, heading on over, turning his attention to the little guy that was seated with his favourite Cizerack. Well, hey... the only Cizerack you know, right? Who else is gonna be your favourite? Cirrsseeto was a pretty cool cat, as cats go. He cracked a grin at Loki as he arrived at the table the same time they did. "What's up, squirt?"

And he placed his tray on the table, dropping himself into a seat, only waiting now for the other two to seat themselves. It was a smidge of proper behavior that most everyone else didn't seem to notice. What else could ya expect from a squadron of guys and girls that might as well be 'one of the guys'?

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

"jI just don't carre forr the name badge, rreally. jI mean, jI'm Cirr. Just Cirr. jI crrjinge anytjime jI hearr Ljieutenant Raurrssatta."

Cirr was thankful to talk about something, anything. It helped to get his mind on other things.

Drex gave a quick look left, and another look right, and passed what seemed to be a small shoebox to Cirr as he left the line. His voice took on a low pitch, almost conspiratorial

"Hey big guy, doin us all here a real solid with those, uh. Even sonic cleaned 'em. Just...not in here, got me? Might not be a good idea."

Cirr gave the box a little tap, nodding with understanding.

"No prroblem therre. Thanks Drrex."

The cook shook his head a bit, laughing.

"Anytime, you big animal."

Cirr carried both food tray and box to the table where Justinian was waiting.

"Justjinjian..."

Cirr held out a hand that seemed to swallow up the human's own in a handshake.

[Abarai Loki]

"That is the first and last time you refer to me as squirt, is that understood?" he said, meeting Justinian's grin with a frosty glare. They sat and Loki immediately went to work on his lunch, not caring for conversation or company, his mood thoroughly soured.

[Ben Merasska]

Ben didn’t really know why he’d been crazy enough to go out of the Knightfall again. After all, the last time he’d left, there’d been a battle in the mess hall. This was not to Ben’s better peace of mind, of which there had been little to none for the past several years.

He resolved to himself that if there was no one he knew there, he’d just go back to the ship and subsist on protein bars until they had a mission that took them far away from the Valiant and back out into open space, where he had less chance of dying (which was saying something really, considering what he did and where he went).

Thankfully, he saw Cirr chatting with a boy and one of the fighter pilots. Ben shivered slightly, but steeled himself and meandered over to the food line. He grabbed his food as quickly as possible, and made his way over to Cirr.

“Heya Cirr!” he said, faltering a bit. “You mind if I sit here with you and your friends? I figure this is the safest place to be. Well, that or back on the Knightfall.”

He hoped that Lyanie had explained some of his... quirks to the bigger mechanic; it was difficult to get people to understand the depth of his aversion to death.

[Justinian Atreides]

Justinian chuckled, clearly unfazed by the young Jedi's disapproval of his innocent pet-name he had for those that were a certain number of years or more beyond him. Basically, anyone he perceived as a child could be called such things, but he meant no insult by it. His nieces never seemed to mind, but... the pilot would keep in mind how to treat Mr. 'Jedis are serious business.' He wouldn't try to incur the little guy's wrath. That seemed too much like something a number of the rest of his squadmates would do.

"Alright then, young mister Loki." He tipped his head to the boy. "Meant no harm nor insult by it."

Then he turned to Cirr and took the Cizerack's large hand in his own, his expression returning to a beaming smile.

"Cirr. Good to see ya, man." And just then, Ben Merasska arrived, as Justinian was noting something... off about the cat-man's demeanor, which had been more on the chipper side, as of late. Much like someone else he knew of, whose demeanor tended towards being like that on a more consistent basis. He wondered what was up with that, but he would try very hard not to pry, as he was wont to do, and give the Layla's engine dude a chance to speak up about whatever was naggling him, before the Lorrdian gave in and started playing 'counselor'.

"Heya, Ben." His grin faltered a bit in noting the particular body language the freighter pilot took in respect to fighter jocks. He supposed he could understand, from a certain perspective, Merasska's aversion (even if it was entirely irrational, since just being near a fighter pilot wasn't going to get your head blown to bits). Justin reached and pulled another chair to the table, patting the seat. "Siddown, yeah? I - nor anybody here - is gonna eat ya, so you can just relax too, alright?"

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

"We'rre all famjily of a sorrt, rrjight?"

Cirr gestured to the remaining open seat as an invitation for Ben to sit. The four of them made for a strange pairing, but that sort of dynamic was just the sort of diversion he needed.

A low pitched warble could be heard from Cirr's middle, signaling that it was time to eat. Cirr knew better than to keep that warble waiting. Indeed, in the life of deep space engineering, you ate in between the time things were broken.

Hunching his shoulders down, he began to shovel in his double portion, pausing momentarily for a gulp of water or whatever good conversation was to be had, but never far from the main task of cleaning his plate.

"Good uneventful day. No rrepajirrs, got a worrkout jin, and extrra chow. Unless we get porrt leave to Zeltrros, that's about as good as jI can get jit. How's jit gojing forr everrjyone else?"

[Ben Merasska]

“Yeah,” Ben managed to say, admirably without a stutter. He was getting better at dealing with the Rebels he met on a daily basis (He was calmer around Cirr, as he wasn’t really a Rebel, just like Ben wasn’t), though he was still edgy. His answer could have gone for both the fighter pilot and Cirr’s statements. He brightened a bit at the casual turn of conversation.

“Not too bad. Recalibrated the nav-computer and fixed up some of the relays in the cockpit. Some of those things were old, you know what I mean? Not just pre-Empire stuff, but some of it has got to be fifty years old at least. She’s responding about as well as an old Corellian YT series now, though I’d wager she’ll still need some jiggling and kicking to get them settled.”

[Abarai Loki]

It was with the spirit of a ravenous rancor that Loki went about decimating the contents of his dinner tray. For all his rigid standards of discipline and decorum, the young Jedi abandonned any sense of ceremony during meal times, usually scoffing his food within moments. It wasn't that he was a noisy or messy eater, he was just very enthusiastic. The advantage of which in this case, he found, was that it allowed him to shut out most of the talk that was going on around him at the table. About halfway through his lunch, a sudden silence came over the group and Loki glanced up to find eyes on him.

"You don't actually expect me to humour this inane topic of conversation, do you?"

[Justinian Atreides]

"Erm..." Justin blinked, choking down a passable mouthful of food whilst his attention, along with the rest of the table's occupants, was turned to the young Jedi, whom (iffin he'd heard correct) had expressed disdain, disinterest or whatever it was about the rudimentry day-in-day-out conversation going around the table. "...not expectin', no. You're welcome, accourse, to keep your top-secret Jedi day to yourself. I don't mind."

The Lorrdian smiled kindly, unoffensively as possible at the boy of frank (and sometimes scathing) attitude, and turned his attentions to Cirr, who to him was the subject of ultimate interest here. No offense to the rest, it should be said. The blond Rogue Lieutenant shoveled more grub into his dentally well-kept mouth and chewed thoughtfully as he observed his Cizerack friend.

"So, Cirr." He started, after having swallowed most everything in his mouth so that no-one would have to 'see-food'. "Pardon my perceptiveness - for the sake of a less 'inane' topic as our young Jedi friend here has in a roundabout way asked after - but what's got so tightly wrapped around your convoy of thoughts?"