fluffiest_archadian | [OOM] Rabanastre Garrison Barracks, with Jay. (Prethreading).

Jay shrugs. "It's the military. Simple and clean's all you need." He investigates the yellow crystal, trying to get his head around the tech of this place.

"Yeah, I'd like that. Get a feel for the place."

It's slightly warm to the touch, like a lightbulb would be, but doesn't appear to be connected to a power source. On closer inspection, it looks as if although most of the crystal is yellow, parts of it are actually black, and simply suffused with yellowish light.

"I'll be right back, then," Sherral says, easing past Jay and out the door.

(He may ruffle Jay's hair as he passes. He will deny this if asked.)

He returns a moment later with a young woman with olive-coloured skin, dark hair, and large dark eyes.

"Jay, this is Second Lieutenant Illan, she's kindly agreed to give you a tour. Lieutenant Illan, this is Jay."

And just for that, Jay's going to pinch Sherral's ass on the way past. Discreetly, of course. He doesn't plan for anyone else to see.

"Nice to meet you, Lieutenant." Jay holds a hand out to her politely.

Sherral gives no indication that he noticed.

(He did.)

Lieutenant Illan glances at the offered hand with some confusion, before lightly patting it - that seems like it would be the polite thing.

"Nice to meet you as well, Jay," she says briskly. To Sherral, she presses one fist to the side of her chest and bows her head slightly. "Sir."

Sherral inclines his head slightly. Illan opens the door, holding it open for Jay.

Once they're through: "There's not much in this barracks, to be honest: It's the more bare-bones of the two in Rabanastre. I can show you the mess hall, the training areas, the baths and the chapel, though."

"Ah." Jay chuckles at her reaction and copies her gesture.

He follows her, taking it all in (including sight-lines and equipment and where the troops are. "The mess is always an important place to know about." He grins cheerfully.

The corridors of the barracks are fairly bustling, both with soldiers dressed in their fatigues and ones dressed in armour with swords at their hips and bows attached to their backs, some hurrying and some moving more calmly. Nobody is still or loitering - everyone is moving with purpose.

There are also still no windows anywhere, perhaps oddly.

"You'll have to forgive the quality of the food available," Illan says as she leads him down one corridor. "The cooks in the Officer's Mess don't even know how to brew a proper cup of tea. It's just - hot leaf water."

"You get what you get." Jay answers almost distractedly as he studies the armour in passing - articulations, weaknesses, shaping. "Can't be any worse than my cooking."

"Why no windows?" He asks openly.

"Doesn't mean we have to like it," Illan replies wryly.

The armour is - odd, perhaps. Dark grey metal over white and grey wool over some kind of bodysuit with striations like muscle. There are gaps in it at the joints and around the upper legs, and the shoulder armour seems somewhat impractical. It obscures every soldier completely, making them all functionally identical.

"These barracks are underground, located in part of Rabanastre's Lowtown," Illan says. "When we arrived, Lowtown was sparsely populated - it was easy to adapt several sections of it into a barracks."

"Very true. I'll see if I can lay my hands on some better tea for you."

Hmm, Jay might need to get hold of a suit of armour later to have a closer look at. Already he can see a few changes he could make.

"Ah, got ya. Makes sense. Not much point where there's no view to enjoy."

"There's a direct path from the barracks up to the wall if anyone that's desperate for a view," Illan says mildly.

As they reach the door to the Officer's Mess, she scans a keycard and opens the door.

The Mess is - bare, mostly. Three rows of long tables, each one made out of a multitude of squares that look designed to be pushed together to form larger or smaller tables as required, and at one end a counter where several men and women, all of them gruff and hairnet'd, are presiding over food.

There aren't many people here - only a few dozen, clustered into about three groups.

"Mind showing me after we tour the barracks?" Up is out. That's useful to know.

Jay does the best to hide the fact he's studying everything - the lock on the door and the key-card, the groups and who is sitting with who. Never know when these things might come in handy. It's funny, he feels more alive than he has in a while, clearing the cobwebs out of his mind.

"So Lieutenant, are you career military?"

Illan might have noticed. Equally, she might not have. It's hard to tell - she's not as deadpan as Sherral can be, but her expression remains fairly cool and assessing.

"That's the idea. This is my first assignment - a lot of the garrison's higher-ranking soldiers fought in the war, but by the time I finished training it was already over."

If Sherral's any example, there's a deep reservoir of feeling hiding under that cool expression and Jay has to fight down the impulse to provoke her to find it.

"Fresh start then. How long has it been wars?" He really should have got more grounding off Sherral before coming here but into the deep end is always more fun.

"Very nearly two years," Illan says. "It ended when we took control of Rabanastre - our taking it made our position strong enough that any attack on Archadia would be suicide."

She leads him onwards to the counter. A man with a majestic moustache quickly pours them both mugs of watery black tea.

"Sugar?" He asks, teaspoon hovering ominously over a pot of sugar cubes.

"So you've been building your forces up ever, waiting till you were ready to push forward?"

Jay smiles brightly at the guy. Never piss off the man making the tea. "Hey. Thanks, two lumps would be great. I'm Jay, by the way."

"No, we have no interest in pushing into Rozarria - or at least not that I know of," Illan says. "And we'd struggle to muster the forces or the resources for such a task."

The man with the moustache peers at him for a moment, then delicately scoops up two sugar cubes and drops them in. He stirs them very deliberately, still assessing Jay.

"Y'sound Dalmascan," he says eventually, in an accent that sounds roughly Scouse. "We lettin' Dalmascans down 'ere now?"

Jay keeps up the grin, putting on his best honest charm. "Nar, mate. I'm from far, far away. Just here to lend a hand."

The man grunts, and reaches for a pot of milk. "Milk?"

"Please," Illan says calmly, sliding her mug over.

The cook provides, mulling things over for a moment. "At least you're not Rozarrian, I suppose. Had too many bloody Rozarrians down here."

Edited 2014-02-28 01:53 (UTC)

"Just sugar's fine with me. Thanks." He keeps smiling, doing his best to be friendly. "Well, you don't have to worry about me. I'm just here to help. Thanks very much for the tea."

"Captain Maduin personally requested his help," Illan says to the cook, with a deliberately casual tone.

There's a moment where the grumpiness gives way to surprise tinged with something very much like terror, and then he gives a grunt.

"Well, help yourself to any toast if y'want it," he says grimly. "We have bacon, too."

Illan gives him a sunny smile, and starts leading Jay away. She lets him choose which table they head towards, though - whether they find one on their own or join one of the clusters of officers.

That's an interesting reaction. Have to ask Sherral later. Jay nabs a slice of toast and chews on it happily as he heads to the table full of officers. "Hello everyone. I'm Jay." He sits down without invitation.

Illan looks very faintly amused.

Reactions at the table vary. Most of the officers give slightly distracted greetings and then return to paperwork. A few look deeply vexed at the intrusion. Two, a man in his forties and a man in his late teens, look up from the game of chess they're playing.

(If Jay knows anything about chess, he might notice that neither of them seem to be especially good at it.)

"Pleasure to meet you, old chap," says the older one, who has a voice like a posh Englishman from a 1970s film. "Lieutenant Deweg. Usually of Nalbina Fortress' garrison."

Jay runs his eyes over the board and nods. "Good game?"

"Nice to meet you." He shakes the man's hand gladly. "How does Nalbina Fortress' garrison's tea compare?"

"I am winning," Deweg says, as if this answers the question - and to him, it probably does.

"Everything is worse at Nalbina," he says solemnly. "Although I think part of the problem with the tea here and everywhere else in Dalmasca is that they top the teabags up with bloody sand."

"I think the Judges might be hoarding the good stuff," someone remarks. "Like the Earl Grey and the nice Bhujerban stuff."

"Reckon one of the Bhujerbans could get some of that in for us?" someone else asks thoughtfully.

Jay assess the board. "Yeah, I think you've got a fairly good chance.

Jay listens to the banter, hiding a smile in his own mug. Yeah, it's pretty awful. "I might be able to help with that. Leave it with me." Fast way to make friends.

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