"That's part of it," she says, "but not all of it. What do you do if you can't leave your cabin? Do you have a cabin routine? What about if there's a dangerous situation on board? During a port?"
She spreads her hand towards him.
"You have your set routine, but setting up alternate paths for some other situations will give you guidance when you can't stick to that routine. You're still on the rails."
"Start your routine with checking the network every morning," she says, "and that tells you which routine you'll be following for the day: normal, cabin, or emergency. Normal, you've already got."
She gestures towards him.
"Cabin, you might need to find a project or a hobby that you can do in your cabin and what your plan is for Mae in that case. Emergency might include checking in with people you care about, threat assessment, and a path for 'out of my pay grade' or 'actionable'."
He hates how reasonable it is. He had been caught up in his own head that it just seemed an insurmountable thing. He wouldn't be able to get through it if he continued down.
"Yeah, alright," he agrees. "You know most of this shit's above my rank, though, don't you?"
"If you're talking 'shoot it', sure, but you're not just a fighter, are you?" She leans a little closer, makes sure she has his eye. "You're a soldier. More importantly, you're a protector. There are people here who can do all kinds of things but they don't plan ahead. They aren't ready. They don't all know how to utilize their resources."
She tilts her head to one side and she can't help but think of one very particular woman.
"One of most helpful people I ever met during a crisis didn't stand beside me firing: she took care of things after a fight, left caches of supplies in the woods for my use, and she made sure that important information got to me when I needed it. I have a lot of problem seeing a situation where you'd be useless, Jacob. I really would."
"I protect mine," he corrects. "Used to anyway." He keeps his gaze on her, then breaks the look, staring back up at the pulpit.
"We'll see how it shakes out the first time."
The first time, he's in it for himself. The first time, he'll keep safe himself, his dog, his brother, and his brother's girl. And Saga, if need be.
He runs his fingers through his hair, glad to have this mostly sorted through. Having a plan to work on helps more than he can express. Making sure it was his plan to create is even more important.
She never expected differently. 'His' is where it starts. You can't give a shit about everyone until you consider everyone as yours to give a shit about.
That's a little too far for today, she knows, so instead.
"Any time," and that comes with a crooked smile, "and I mean that."
She considers, letting her eyes close, letting her head tilt back and forth for a moment to work out a kink. Then she glances over at him.
"Come back with me to my cabin once we're done? I've got something for you."
When he sees her next, at the gazebo, he's in a considerably better mood, at least on the outside. He's a little sweaty, a little out of breath, but he eyes the supplies with a laugh.
"The hell is this for?"
He knows. He knows, but God does he have to save face.
She grins up at him, pleased as a cat at the bluster. That means it surprised him.
"That tub there is 30 full meals worth of supplies and a shaker cup. Two scoops and eight ounces of water and you've got a complete meal."
She looks up.
"Figured it might be useful to you. And hopefully you like," she peers into the bag, "Strawberry Shortcake. Cause like hell were you getting my Caramel Coffee."
She's going to see about stocking up on more next time they're at port, see if the commissary will stock it as well so she's not the sole purveyor of such things.
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She might notice now at this proximity that he is unarmed.
"Got my phone with an alarm. A dog that needs walks. Job at the gym with regular shifts and a boss that might get it. That what you mean?"
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"That's part of it," she says, "but not all of it. What do you do if you can't leave your cabin? Do you have a cabin routine? What about if there's a dangerous situation on board? During a port?"
She spreads her hand towards him.
"You have your set routine, but setting up alternate paths for some other situations will give you guidance when you can't stick to that routine. You're still on the rails."
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He finally, for the first time in a while, looks at her. Sees her.
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She gestures towards him.
"Cabin, you might need to find a project or a hobby that you can do in your cabin and what your plan is for Mae in that case. Emergency might include checking in with people you care about, threat assessment, and a path for 'out of my pay grade' or 'actionable'."
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"Yeah, alright," he agrees. "You know most of this shit's above my rank, though, don't you?"
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"If you're talking 'shoot it', sure, but you're not just a fighter, are you?" She leans a little closer, makes sure she has his eye. "You're a soldier. More importantly, you're a protector. There are people here who can do all kinds of things but they don't plan ahead. They aren't ready. They don't all know how to utilize their resources."
She tilts her head to one side and she can't help but think of one very particular woman.
"One of most helpful people I ever met during a crisis didn't stand beside me firing: she took care of things after a fight, left caches of supplies in the woods for my use, and she made sure that important information got to me when I needed it. I have a lot of problem seeing a situation where you'd be useless, Jacob. I really would."
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"We'll see how it shakes out the first time."
The first time, he's in it for himself. The first time, he'll keep safe himself, his dog, his brother, and his brother's girl. And Saga, if need be.
He runs his fingers through his hair, glad to have this mostly sorted through. Having a plan to work on helps more than he can express. Making sure it was his plan to create is even more important.
"Thanks, Saga."
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That's a little too far for today, she knows, so instead.
"Any time," and that comes with a crooked smile, "and I mean that."
She considers, letting her eyes close, letting her head tilt back and forth for a moment to work out a kink. Then she glances over at him.
"Come back with me to my cabin once we're done? I've got something for you."
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The pup hears her name and raises her head, tail wagging.
Truthfully, he could wait. Give the dog a break. But he needs the time to clear his head, to mull over everything.
"I'll meet you there."
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"Just come by the gazebo. I'll go grab it and bring it up so you can just swing by."
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He takes out his music box and sets it on the pew beside him, letting "Only You" play gently as he gathers up Mae to start work.
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She'll be waiting for him with a tub of meal replacement mix and a shaker cup, tucked in a little bag and ready to go for when he comes by.
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"The hell is this for?"
He knows. He knows, but God does he have to save face.
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"That tub there is 30 full meals worth of supplies and a shaker cup. Two scoops and eight ounces of water and you've got a complete meal."
She looks up.
"Figured it might be useful to you. And hopefully you like," she peers into the bag, "Strawberry Shortcake. Cause like hell were you getting my Caramel Coffee."
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He huffs. "I'll take it off your hands since you've got so much to be picky about flavor."
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"Thank you."
She's going to see about stocking up on more next time they're at port, see if the commissary will stock it as well so she's not the sole purveyor of such things.
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"Sure thing. Later."
And he's going to happily trot off with his prize.
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But fondly.