[He's not expecting it, he wants to make himself look smarter than he is (even if he is pretty damn smart). Or maybe he wants to rub it in her face, its hard to say. Never let it be said that John Crichton didn't have a slight malicious streak, enhanced by the other voice living in his head.
So he waits until she has made it clear she doesn't understand what he is saying. He keeps his voice low, in case he's attracted someone's attention. Whether or not its common knowledge, he doesn't intend to bring it to anyone's direct attention. It would make operating seamlessly a lot easier.]
Shepard, we have no command structure.
[The next pause is brief.]
No squads, no instructor, and no orders to follow.
[She doesn't move, doesn't so much as bat an eyelash. But there's an undeniable shift in the room, a palpable change in the temperature of the conversation - if this even warrants the word - and a steady, piercing way the she looks at him the says she gets exactly what he means.
A moment later and she's shoving herself up, getting her feet under her. She's upright and standing in less than a second. There's something dangerous and electric in the movement.]
Are you guessing this or did someone tell you directly? [It's a demand, though not a mean one. Given recent events, it's a necessary clarification.
(for a moment she lets herself consider the possibility that this is exactly where Armada wanted her-- and then she dismisses the idea out of hand. Bullshit. He doesn't warrant the credit the passing thought wants to give him.)]
[John doesn't answer. He gets the idea that Warriorhead told him because he trusted him to do the right thing with the information. The fact that he immediately told Shepard almost makes him feel dirty. His eyes shift toward the ceiling and then over his shoulder.
He doesn't want to give the answer -- but he can't do what he needs to do by himself either. That's what the first assessment had taught him.]
[No long sidelong looks here. Instead she leans down, fetches her flak jacket from where it lay in a heap on the floor and uses it as a make do towel for the sweat on her face.]
Alright.
[Simple. Straightforward. Crichton's a pain in the ass, but he's not a moron.]
[Finally: someone who had done their research before coming to ask her the exact particulars of how she'd shoved her foot in her mouth. That it's Crichton shouldn't be a surprise - she knows he's smarter than he looks (and acts and blahblahblah) - but it is.
A beat. She studies him for a fraction of a second across the fabric of the jacket, the line of her mouth obscured behind it and the angle of her arm. After a moment she lowers the tough fabric, balls up the jacket and tosses it on the bunk beside him. When she speaks, her tone is clipped but neutral - a recitation of facts:]
Grey or not, I can't organize any formal checks without getting kicked in the ass for it. Medical team scanned everyone coming onto the ship, but no one's interested in doing second round sweeps for anything that might have mutated since then for us. [--Well.] For me.
[She's not ignorant to the possibility that someone else asking might get it (though it doesn't and won't occur to her that tone probably has something to do with it), but it's not really a rope she wants to put her weight on either. There's something heavy and dangerous at the other end of it that might end up falling on her head.
But there's an itch at the back of her neck and between her shoulder blades that won't just let her leave the issue either. Not like there's an option to - they're all stuck in a goddamn tin can with whatever's killing recruits. Ignoring the issue for the sake of a little peace and quiet among the ranks isn't something she can swallow.]
I don't know if I'd say its not an issue, but I don't think scans are the chief issue. Ain't no point in getting even darker on their bad-side.
[His eyes dramatically follow the jacket landing beside him, which prompts him to recross his ankles and fold his arms over his chest. John is the first to promote peeing in the CDC's cereal, but not while people are dying around him.
From what he's seen of Shepard, she feels similarly. The pause is a bit weighted. He's really eating up her attentiveness, even if he doesn't show it.]
No matter what the scans bring up, I think you and I can both agree that whatever is on the ship wasn't here before -- or maybe it was.
[There's only a brief pause between the two statements. His tone is no louder than it was before. In fact, it might be quieter.]
Don't you find it funny that we got such a big stretch of rules, regulations, and security measure, but nobody around to watch the cameras for this thing besides Mothership? Last I checked, they had someone employed specifically for that.
[She's rolling with it, amicable enough (if she's ever even vaguely capable of the word) - because he's not wrong; she's not exactly hot on the idea of saying and doing anything while in confinement or otherwise that's likely to stretch her neck out any further. There's a reason she's been so tight lipped with her visitors and it sure as hell isn't because she like keep quiet. There's more than one person on the ship with an axe in hand; making herself a bigger target in the near future doesn't about as fun as taking a walk in space without a helmet.
But the last part sharpens something in her she's worked the last handful of hours to forcibly smooth. She is abruptly hawkish, eyes narrowing and the line of her back straightening until she's drawn to her full height. It's a difference of a few degrees, but a noticeable one: something predatory rising to the surface.]
[And that really is the question at hand, isn't it? He had paused before delivering those two words when he had observed the realization dawning on her, nodding very slowly. He keeps his voice low, as he already knows there are cameras in the bunks somewhere.]
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no subject
So he waits until she has made it clear she doesn't understand what he is saying. He keeps his voice low, in case he's attracted someone's attention. Whether or not its common knowledge, he doesn't intend to bring it to anyone's direct attention. It would make operating seamlessly a lot easier.]
Shepard, we have no command structure.
[The next pause is brief.]
No squads, no instructor, and no orders to follow.
no subject
A moment later and she's shoving herself up, getting her feet under her. She's upright and standing in less than a second. There's something dangerous and electric in the movement.]
Are you guessing this or did someone tell you directly? [It's a demand, though not a mean one. Given recent events, it's a necessary clarification.
(for a moment she lets herself consider the possibility that this is exactly where Armada wanted her-- and then she dismisses the idea out of hand. Bullshit. He doesn't warrant the credit the passing thought wants to give him.)]
no subject
He doesn't want to give the answer -- but he can't do what he needs to do by himself either. That's what the first assessment had taught him.]
Told. You're going to have to trust me on that.
no subject
Alright.
[Simple. Straightforward. Crichton's a pain in the ass, but he's not a moron.]
So why tell me?
no subject
[He leans back on his hands and crosses his legs, like they're talking about the weather and tilts his head.]
Ignoring the newfolk is asking to get shot in the back.
no subject
A beat. She studies him for a fraction of a second across the fabric of the jacket, the line of her mouth obscured behind it and the angle of her arm. After a moment she lowers the tough fabric, balls up the jacket and tosses it on the bunk beside him. When she speaks, her tone is clipped but neutral - a recitation of facts:]
Grey or not, I can't organize any formal checks without getting kicked in the ass for it. Medical team scanned everyone coming onto the ship, but no one's interested in doing second round sweeps for anything that might have mutated since then for us. [--Well.] For me.
[She's not ignorant to the possibility that someone else asking might get it (though it doesn't and won't occur to her that tone probably has something to do with it), but it's not really a rope she wants to put her weight on either. There's something heavy and dangerous at the other end of it that might end up falling on her head.
But there's an itch at the back of her neck and between her shoulder blades that won't just let her leave the issue either. Not like there's an option to - they're all stuck in a goddamn tin can with whatever's killing recruits. Ignoring the issue for the sake of a little peace and quiet among the ranks isn't something she can swallow.]
What's your approach?
[Because he must have one. He's here.]
no subject
[His eyes dramatically follow the jacket landing beside him, which prompts him to recross his ankles and fold his arms over his chest. John is the first to promote peeing in the CDC's cereal, but not while people are dying around him.
From what he's seen of Shepard, she feels similarly. The pause is a bit weighted. He's really eating up her attentiveness, even if he doesn't show it.]
No matter what the scans bring up, I think you and I can both agree that whatever is on the ship wasn't here before -- or maybe it was.
[There's only a brief pause between the two statements. His tone is no louder than it was before. In fact, it might be quieter.]
Don't you find it funny that we got such a big stretch of rules, regulations, and security measure, but nobody around to watch the cameras for this thing besides Mothership? Last I checked, they had someone employed specifically for that.
no subject
But the last part sharpens something in her she's worked the last handful of hours to forcibly smooth. She is abruptly hawkish, eyes narrowing and the line of her back straightening until she's drawn to her full height. It's a difference of a few degrees, but a noticeable one: something predatory rising to the surface.]
So where's Honey?
no subject
[And that really is the question at hand, isn't it? He had paused before delivering those two words when he had observed the realization dawning on her, nodding very slowly. He keeps his voice low, as he already knows there are cameras in the bunks somewhere.]
Nobody can give me a straight answer.