we stand shoulder to shoulder (veteran's social)

[theydrewfirstblood]

Who: John Rambo (theydrewfirstblood) & The Pumpkin Hollow Veterans' Association
What: Leveling up veteran's poker night with a barbecue
When: post-Blight
Where: Baker Ranch
Warning(s): General warnings for John's canon: violence, police brutality, PTSD, torture, etc., and likely similar for many other veterans here, check for further warnings throughout

(NOTE: Treat this as a gathering, but I personally will be backtagging into this for the duration of September, so don't be a stranger!)

Poker Night is something John looks forward to every month, but he got it into his head that it could be fun to do a little more, so he talked to a few people, did a little extra work...

...then the damn Thatcher's Blight hit and everything went to absolute shit.

Fortunately, the whole thing's blown over now, and once he's sure everything around the farm is as clean as it's gonna get? John goes through his stores and decides he's got enough food and drink for all--and tacks up a notice on the bulletin board just below that for the regular poker night, with a date and time as well as his phone number and address.

VETERAN'S SOCIAL, BAKER RANCH--BBQ & DRINKS, POTLUCK OPTIONAL

The event starts a few hours before dusk. John's set up a ways from the house with some tables, chairs, and blankets for those who want to go full on picnic style. It wouldn't be a veteran's night without poker, so there's a game going at one of the tables while another holds plates of food--regular game coming off the grill, along with a few other pieces of meat he picked up for those who aren't fans of game.

And, because Co is around, there's no visible chicken on the grill. Ever the pragmatist, there's a couple casseroles of simple baked chicken on the table, alongside some sides John's put together or any offerings that come along as part of the optional potluck. There's not a lot of alcohol, but John's got the last bottle or two of his little dandelion wine experiment available, as well as a couple other things. Mostly it's water, tea, coffee--tamer offerings.

Speaking of the animals, John's turned loose the ones he treats as pets: Sam the rooster spends the whole night chasing after and trying to wrangle Co, who makes no bones about harassing newcomers for adulation. Those she knows, if they sit still too long, will end up with a happy chicken nesting in their lap...one that will remain quiet only so long as you offer the bare minimum of scritches and pets. Dare to ignore her, and angry clucking will ensue. John's mare, Helga, can also be seen grazing around the goings-on, shy but not unfriendly. If a hot breath puffs on the back of your neck, she's just curious--if you pet her, she'll swish her tail happily and move on.

There's also a newer member of the family, whose only just getting big enough to let socialize: Bao, a female cottontail rabbit whose still young, but no longer too much of a baby to keep isolated. Though she spends a good portion of the night in John's arms when he's not busy, she does hop around loose, sticking close to John and to Co, who can be found very rarely nesting in a patch of grass with Bao tucked against her feathery side, gently attempting to "preen" Bao despite her lack of feathers.

And while this is, ostensibly, the veteran's social, any of Baker Ranch's varying degrees of resident are invited to the party, so if there's new faces about? Relax, they don't bite--unless you have food, then watch your hands. They're probably teenagers, and they don't discriminate when it comes to their appetites.

Comments

[not_a_traitor]

"Gods, yeah, I know what you mean." He takes a careful seat with a grunt, ensuring he's fully settled before putting his cane aside. "The stress of waiting for the other shoe to drop, when there's nothing to do but wait."

[hate_gettin_older]

"Least it's over now. Back to ... whatever comes next I guess, yeah?"

Slightly dry, as it seems like there's always something coming next.

[not_a_traitor]

"Maybe that's what we should start taking bets on instead of poker," says Gaeta, equally dry. "What do you think, small asteroid or gravity reversing itself?"

[hate_gettin_older]

He snorts. Gravity he knows, but --

"What's an astroid?"

[not_a_traitor]

"Oh, um -- "

By now, Gaeta's pretty used to explaining some concepts regarding space, and space travel, that feel incredibly basic to him. He's never had to go as basic as an asteroid, though.

"It's a small interstellar body. They orbit stars like planets do, but typically they're only a couple miles wide, and they don't have an atmosphere. Usually they're not a problem unless they intersect the orbit of an actual planet. Collisions can be... dangerous."

(Accidentally breaking out the professor voice and criminally understating something! Gaeta's on a roll tonight.)

[hate_gettin_older]

He frowns, trying to follow.

"So," he says tentatively, "a big space rock?"

(Sorry, Gaeta.)

[not_a_traitor]

"..."

To his credit, Gaeta does not deflate. (Well, too much)

"Yes," he says. "A big space rock."

[hate_gettin_older]

"Sorry," he says ruefully. "Never did get much chance to learn about, like --" He waves a hand vaguely toward the stars. "Space and planets and that. Din't really know what any of it was about most of my life, just something people talked about sometimes."

[not_a_traitor]

"No, there's no need to apologize," he's quick to say, matching him in ruefulness. "I, ah, should be more used to it by now. Not a lot of people here know the basics either, let alone the intricacies."

He follows Edgar's gesture to glance up at the stars.

"I'm always glad to explain."

[hate_gettin_older]

"You know a lot about it, then?" It's not a challenge, but genuine interest.

[not_a_traitor]

"More than most." A small, crooked smile. "I spent seven years on a battlestar. It's a type of spaceship. And I did my fair share of nav calculations during my service."

[hate_gettin_older]

He lets out a low whistle. "Spaceship, huh. Don't think I ever met anybody who works on one of those."

(Not quite true; he's met both John Crichton and a certain SecUnit. But they never really talked about spaceships.)

[not_a_traitor]

"Worked, past tense," he admits. "But... we seem to be a rare breed around here, yes. CT and Crichton are the only other two I know. And Tayrey, before she left."

The last is more subdued.

[hate_gettin_older]

"Tayrey worked on a spaceship? Huh." His voice falls a little, likewise subdued. "Din't know that. Only ever really talked to her the once."

[not_a_traitor]

"Yeah." He sighs, and the weight of it makes his whole posture bow for a second before assuming its instinctive, military-straight backing again. "That was how we got to be friends. For a little while, we were the only two spacegoing people in the entire town. So we'd talk, a lot, about the quirks nobody else understood the same way we did."

There's a soft, aching wistfulness as Gaeta says all of that. This isn't the scoff of someone from an advanced society looking down on their lessers; it's the relief, however short-lived, of finding your own kind in an unfamiliar place.

[hate_gettin_older]

"Yeah," he says slowly, "know what you mean. 'S rough, when nobody else gets it."

[not_a_traitor]

Gaeta nods.

And, forcing a little bit of lightness into his tone, "Well, the poker nights help, at least." He gestures toward the larger gathering around the barbecue. "Military is still military, right? Even if it's planetside."

[hate_gettin_older]

"... I guess, yeah? I mean, I'm not, really. Military. Not like with uniforms and that."

It doesn't sound quite as awkward as it feels. At least he hopes it doesn't.

[not_a_traitor]

"Mm." Gaeta considers this. "Well. I don't think you'd be the only one. I know Dr. de Kuiper isn't technically military. And Hawkeye, the one who started this, has always been pretty relaxed about who can attend."

He shrugs.

"I think it's more a question of... have you endured a war. Did you have to fight. Not even physically, necessarily -- hell, I spent almost the entire war in front of a DRADIS screen, I wasn't the one flying or shooting. But I still fought against the Cylons."

[hate_gettin_older]

A long beat.

"I mean," he says slowly. "That, yeah."

[not_a_traitor]

His brow knits.

"Yeah?" he prompts, not unkindly.

[hate_gettin_older]

"It was a war." He doesn't really decide to look off into the middle distance, it just sort of happens. "Kind of my whole life was, but ... right at the end was when we fought. Had no chance to fight most of the time, so we made one."

[not_a_traitor]

Gaeta smiles just a little at that, grim and humorless.

"Sounds like a few battles I've been in," he says. "If you're looking for reassurance that it counts."

[hate_gettin_older]

"Yeah?" Glancing back to him, with a look that begins with uncertainty and starts to shade into something a little warmer.

[not_a_traitor]

"Yeah. Bringing the fight to the enemy when you're in an inferior position might be a tactic of last resort, a lot of the time, but it's a valid tactic. And it gives you the element of surprise."

He hesitates as he considers his options. Gaeta could name a dozen battles off the top of his head that fit the criteria, both from personal experience and ones he read about in a Fleet Academy textbook. But there's another choice he could make; the most obvious one, probably.

Gaeta glances back toward the party, spotting John in the crowd. He told him the truth and the worlds didn't end. He wasn't met with disgust or rejection, nor banishment from the little group of friends he's formed since Mortanne brought him here.

Still, he speaks cautiously. "Do you remember, when we were ghosts on the Stag Beetle, talking about how to fight back against the captain? And I mentioned I'd done something similar before?"

It's a genuine question. Gods know neither of them were in the best state at the time.