The woman, Ribsy, was chatty, but deft at moving conversation to where she pleased. Olivia was a bit jealous, really; she’d always been quiet, even as a girl. Even with John, she’d been reserved, preferring to watch and learn from him. Asking questions, small talk—it never really interested her. She wanted to [i]do[/i] things for herself. That independent streak had always served her well in a cockpit. Olivia never waited for instruction. She simply learned how to do what needed to be done, picking everyone else’s brains. But quiet observation didn’t do much for her social skills, and, frankly, she knew her career would suffer for it. As soon as she couldn’t fly, they’d quietly retire her. She’d never be a full-bird captain; she might get a job training the next generation, if she was lucky.

Of course, none of that mattered now. F-16’s didn’t do shit against Kaijuu. 

Ribsy’s observations were logical—she didn’t have access to the same files Olivia had been given, after all. Instead, she shrugged, ignoring the twinge in her shoulder. She’d need to work that out soon, but, if she was truthful, she was almost [i]starved[/i] for the simplicity of  conversation. The world had been too busy to care when she’d retreated in to herself after K-Day. It wasn’t like she’d had many friends in the first place; with all that death, with so much work, they had never quite connected again. Then Olivia had been on a flight north with her brother’s widower and had lost touch.

“The Marshall’s a wise man; I suspect it will be more a matter of merit than seniority,” Olivia remarked simply, moving to collect her shower gear. After an hour of wailing on a heavy bag after a day of work and testing, well, she was no spring flower. Snapping her hair tie out of black locks, she shook them vigorously, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

“No; I grew up in San Diego, never even left the city until I went to the Academy,” Olivia remarked blandly. It was strange, the thought of even spending time with her father; he’d always been distant, and when her mother had left him he’d disconnected from everything. It hadn’t been so bad; she’d had John and boxing. That had been enough. “A friend in flight school took me fishing once, but I lack the patience.”

Olivia nodded towards the door, lifting a towel from its home on her chair.

“I better go. Nice chatting with you,” she nodded to both women, arching a brow at Shankari’s stiffness. Enlisted, maybe? Olivia wasn’t exactly high ranking, but some habits were hard to break. With that, she departed before she succumbed to the weariness in her bones.