Daniel broke out of his thought, looking upon what - from his time in the wasteland - he at first assumed to be a beggar of some sort that snuck on board somehow. He faintly cocked his head to examine the fellow, in disbelief at the words the man uttered. “[b]For… for real?[/b]” the Knight asked, the mask of military strictness he put on quickly shattered by this walking, talking spit in the face of the known order. Having lived with Roderick, Daniel knew more than enough about the states of alcohol based intoxication and this was one of them. “[b]Are you sure?[/b]” came the dumbfounded followup. Sam looked like shit to Daniel, given how easily he made parallels to Roderick — this made the young man reach to his bag to offer the man water just as to distressed Wastelanders. At least it would help him pass the last of the booze….

Sami paused in an awkward shock, like a Radstag in the spotlight. His cover was clearly blown. '[i]You're losing your charms, you fool[/i]', he thought to himself in a reprimanding tone of self-critique. He had to win over this soldier, he couldn't be thought of a drunk for this mission, because he honestly wasn't one. He'd just indulged a bit too much on his last hurrah.
In replacement of a handshake, the Knight offered a bottle of water, which Sami was happy to accept instead. He opened the bottle and let the lukewarm water gush down his dried-up throat. Much better. He returned the bottle to the Knight, who returned it back to his large holdall once more.

"[b]Don't worry about me, man. I just had a good night last night. I can still fly no problem... if you give me a little bit of time to recover.[/b]"

As he said that, Sami sat down on his tool bag and yawned. Hopefully there'd be a copilot that would allow him to catch up with existence, but there was no guarantee. He'll be fine. He just needs to shake it off.

He turned to the Knight and said [b]"I didn't catch your name, big man."[/b]

“Oh, alright then.” Daniel replied, mollified. He didn’t have it in him to consider maybe Sam was bullshitting him, and so he unquestioningly went along with what his counterpart said. The Lancer just needed a quick breather, that was all! 

But then he yawned. Now the Knight wasn’t going to bring this up, but he didn’t like it. There was given how the world worked an equal chance the man had recently awoken to be like this… or he was deprived of sleep by the very same “good night last night”. But though he didn’t say anything, Daniel knew he was much like Socrates and knew he knew nothing about poker faces. So to hide away the inkling of dread he’d crash to the ground thanks to a quick mid-air snooze from the Lancer he instantly got to talking. “[b]Daniel, Sir. Daniel Estevez, Knight. Ad Victoriam.[/b]” 

Sami was so busy battling his hangover that he the Knight's proclamation of his name was dulled, as if coming from another room. But he heard it well enough. The name Estevez didn't ring a bell, but plenty bells were ringing in Sami's head that would have drowned it out regardless. 

[i/]Ad Victoriam.[/i]The Lancer didn't give a shit about the phrase. The Brotherhood's signature catchphrase went rarely spoken by him, Sami thought it was pretentious and dorky. However the people behind the words were usually not to be trifled with, so he kept his mockery to a minimum while surrounded by angry men in power armour. However, in his state he didn't find the strength to repeat the words back, as is the custom. At least not fully.

[b]"Yeah, Ad Victor-whatever"[/b], grumbled Sami. [b]"Brown's my surname. I don't think I've heard of you, Estevez. Where you from?"[/b]

As he spoke, Sami studied the soldier before him. He looked fairly standard for a Knight, bulky but not gargantuan, and had a plain appearance. He certainly wouldn't turn any heads outside of his armour, but he wouldn't repel them either. Sami wondered why he felt Daniel's appearance so important, he'd just gotten laid and he was far from that desperate. Overall, Daniel Estevez appeared to be a standard Brotherhood soldier on the surface, although a bit young. The Knight had let slip a little of his personality through the use of "Sir" when it didn't need to be said, as they are equal in rank. A polite and well-mannered lad, it seemed. A nice change from the usual rank-and-file hothead that was typical of a Tin Can Man of Steel. 

Chances are, there'd be one of those soon to arrive. Knight Estevez didn't look like the sort of soldier who could be fielded alone to get a job like this done. He was young, green and naive in his youth, no doubt. Sami pondered what sort of characters would be making their way to the Vertibird bay momentarily, or so he would expect

Surely they can't all be as hungover as him, right?

Daniel for his part raised an eyebrow at the man’s casual dismissal of the motto. He didn’t hold it sacred but it had fairly powerful symbolism and one’s attitude to it was telling of other things. This Sam clearly wasn’t an ideologue, he wasn’t a believer in the cause. While this obviously didn’t detract from his abilities, it made him suspect and unreliable in the long term. If it was found that somebody had sympathies outside of the group, this would be a prime candidate.

Again to mask his thoughts he quickly replied to what Sam had asked with his own question. "[b]Pardon, what do you mean where am I from?[/b]" then he remembered that much time had passed from bunker days, and it wasn't a default that everyone was born into the Brotherhood of Steel. "[b]Oh, Lost Hills Bunker. Born and raised by the Brotherhood. Yourself? It's my first time hearing of you too.[/b]"

Ah. A Bunker Boy. That explained a lot. He often forgot that many in the Brotherhood led very sheltered lives inside their hidden subterranean domiciles. This often led to narrow-mindedness and a xenophobic sort of naiveté, but sometimes to a misplaced wonder of the dangerous and often cruel world above. No doubt we'd soon see which type Daniel was. 

[b]"Rivet City. My pa was a mechanic in the lower decks, so that's what I was too, for a time."[/b] Sami rarely thought about home or his past. The chaotic whirlwind of his existence didn't usually offer much time for reflection, but he felt some heartstrings tug at the mention of his home. He wondered what his parents were doing now, as he waited for the activation of what could have been a suicide mission. He didn't know if they'd even still be alive, or whether they'd drank themselves to death long ago.

“[b]Rivet City? That must have been nice.[/b]” Daniel replied, though he knew it wasn’t and merely said what he did out of politeness. He hadn’t been there, but he knew it was a veritable shithole. A lot of recruits to the Brotherhood came from there and in all the training and sparring those emaciated and irradiated people would get their asses beat quite handily by the well fed and trained Daniel. It seems the grass was greener in the city than the open wastes, but it was even greener when you could witness it through the lenses of power armour or a vertibird.

Sami's mind snapped back to the present as he cleared his throat, refocusing himself. [b]"Anyway. It's good to meet you Daniel"[/b]. Sami wasn't exactly sure where he was expected to be when the presumably hard-ass commanding officer showed up, so he asked Knight Estevez, who seemed to be the type to read between the lines of even the most mundane and simplest of orders or dossiers.

[b]"You think we should hang around outside, or get on the 'Bird?"[/b].

“[b]Likewise, Samuel.[/b]” The Knight said. “[b]Let’s get in, I suppose. No time to waste.[/b]” Actually, there was. Both of the men had come early, but time not wasted was time added to use later. He placed his helmet on his head and sealed it, before effortlessly sliding open the door of the Vertibird with the soft noise of servos and hydraulics. A metal hand gestured for the Lancer to get in. “[b]After you.[/b]” Daniel said, before getting in himself and grabbing a seat. He opened [i]Henry the Eighth[/i], but then closed it thinking back to his dream. With a sigh he shuffled over to take the responsibility of gunner.