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"I never got that. A lot of the recruits these days are barely older than the Suethors, sometimes even younger. I still remember when all Agents were adults. Not to hold anything against the younger generation, but I think it should still be like that, sometimes. They're just kids, they shouldn't have to deal with it."

Osbert smirked a little after saying this, bemused. "Maybe that's just the talk of an old man who, were he sane, would be some Agent's grandfather, and not an Agent himself. Reece? Agent Nalan, right? I remember him, he did surprisingly well in my training. Already a pretty good shot when I got to him, could take care of himself well. Actually gave me a tough time for...oh, five seconds, when I tested his hand-to-hand skill. He was too young to die in something like this, though I thought the same when I found out they put him in DAVD of all things."

"Thinking about it, though, I feel like there were people who deserved to make it more than I did. The younger ones, for example. I mean, I'm old enough to be a dad to some of the young ones. I know that doesn't mean so much to you, probably, but it gets to me. Like, there was a kid I knew who worked in DAVD. Reece, his name was. Pretty tough for a teenager, but still..."

Luke shook his head. "He didn't deserve to go."

Osbert could only offer a shrug, giving what opinion he had. He couldn't claim to have all the answers, but that was how he looked at it. "Either way, they're in a better place."

"Ending up in FicPsych is not the way I want to go," he said when Osbert mentioned that department. "One of my partners wound up in there a while ago. The last time I heard of her, she thought she was the reincarnation of Lily Potter from Potterverse."

He looked around at the party. "I can think of at least one person who'd have appreciated the atmosphere, yeah," he sighed, his shoulders drooping slightly.

Casting a glance at Langston, he realised the Agent wasn't getting out on his own power. It was pathetic, but he supposed he could understand somewhat. Still, he hated seeing an Agent who was made of such stern stuff reduced to the quivering mass of alcoholism hunched over the bar not too far from himself.

"Heh, we could've used a few flamethrower-crazies during the fighting," he admitted, looking back to Luke. "Even if we would've had to cart 'em away to FicPsych afterward. Still, we won, so I guess Makes-Things and the others can rest in peace, now." Looking around at the party, which still hadn't slowed down any, he appeared to be thinking about something.

"Hm. Not the most solemn way to respect the dead, but isn't this what they would've wanted? I hope it is."

Luke debated whether or not to get another drink, but on regarding Marcus' current state, he decided against it. He might be able to hold his drink all right, but if he was going to carry his friend back to his RC, he needed to be sober himself.

Turning back to Osbert, he just shrugged. "At least you had some company. I ended up barricading myself into somebody's RC for the month. Ended up coming close to going flamethrower from sheer boredom by the time I got the call." He stretched a little.

"Wish I could have done something about Makes-Things, though. I liked the guy."

Osbert seemed sobered by this, but not overtly upset. It was hard to be, after forty years on the job. Asking for another glass of brandy, he sipped lightly, being careful not to let it go to his head while he thought. "I lost a lot of friends, too. Makes-Things was the last non-Flower Agent who was here as long as I was. Got to know him real well, and then he was the first to go."

He sighed, shaking his head at the memory. "I couldn't do anything, I was still training that day's batch of recruits when it happened. I got as many people into the training rooms as I could, set up a watch, and sealed the doors once I figured there was enough food and the like for us to last however long it'd be before a cure was made. When the Sues came in, I'd already been getting the survivors out of the RCs and training rooms. Damn things tried to take Operations, cut the head off of our resistance before we could put up a fight." A laugh escaped him, grinning a bit as he took another sip. "Woulda worked, too, but we were ready for 'em. I pretty much gave everyone a weapon, gathered up everyone who'd been in the area and anyone who we ran into that looked like they could hold a weapon. Gave those bitches hell!"

Osbert couldn't help but break into a bit of a cackle, there. "Most of the trainers are either people with military experience from the outside, or former Action Agents who were taken off the beat, whether due to age or injury. On our own we probably could've cleared the whole place out, let alone with the bunch of recruits and Agents we brought with us. Sent 'em running with their tails between their legs."

Luke rubbed his eyepatch reflectively, thinking back to the whole thing. "When I got the Sub Rosa's message I came out fighting. Didn't pay too much attention to where I was most of the time; it was more a case of killing Sues and helping out other Agents."

He let out a bitter little laugh. "I guess it was hell. Bitches killed some damn good friends of mine. Nearly got me, too, and my partner."

Osbert went quiet after that, thinking better of making his true opinion known. Giving Celinus a look, though, he thought of something. That black scarf around the eye, the large build, the red hair...had he seen him around, before? there was something unquestionably familiar about him.

"I don't think we've met, Celinus, but were you in Operations, during the beginning of the fighting? If it's not too sensitive a subject, I mean. That little war was hell on us all."

"She's called Jessie Lancaster. Red hair, damn near indiscriminately homicidal, and tries to kill me on a regular basis. And if a guy so much as looks the wrong way at her... well, it gets messy."

"Not to brag, but I think it'd be safe to say I'm one of the better Agent trainers; a lot of them just stick something pointy in the recruit's hand and throw them into an RC. Just who would your partner be?" Arching an eyebrow, Osbert tried to think of the particularly memorable cases he'd seen come through his training room. He had enough trainees on a regular basis that it was hard to remember any one in particular on most days. Celinus' mention of his partner had got him curious, though, so he tried to think of if he had met her before. Unlikely, if this was his first meeting with Celinus himself.

"Sounds like you really do know your stuff," he replied. "Don't use Bleeproducts much myself, I got used to coping without them except for the really horrible stuff. Fortunately, I don't get much of that... and yes, I'm aware that I'm inviting it." He glanced up at the ceiling as if warning the Ironic Overpower to back off.

"My partner never seemed to need any tutorials in hitting hard, I have to say." A wry smile crossed his face. "I should have got her to come to you for the other stuff, though."

By now, Langston was singing something to himself, but Osbert really couldn't understand many of the words due to the alcohol muddling the Agent's brain. The tone was recognisable as Eric Bogle's "The Green Fields of France", but not much could be clearly made out. Returning his attention to Celinus, he gave the large Agent a nod.

"I prefer field work myself, it's much more exciting, and my family has always preferred to take care of things personally." Osbert sighed, adjusting his glasses and helmet. "Still, at least this way I'm putting some backbone in these Agents. I'm not letting them out into the missions until they can shoot straight, hit hard, operate a Console without blowing it up, and don't need to run to Bleeproducts every time something goes wrong."

"I suppose when you're working in here it tends to get a bit frustrating. Not like being out roaming the Canon worlds. But look on the bright side, eh? You don't have to get soaked, frozen, roasted and whatnot." He leaned against the bar nonchalantly.

However, he couldn't argue that it was a very pleasant surprise. Holding the woman closer, he nodded, leading her out of the Store. It took a few moments to locate the proper room, but once he found the door he opened it, allowing Cassie to go in first before following her.

Osbert scoffed, treating what had been a decision made by the Flowers years ago with visible contempt. He still remembered treating the decision with total incredulity, even if he'd taken his reassignment as a trainer of new Agents with dignity and gratitude.

"I was about forty years old when I was recruited," he told Luke, after searching through his memories. "I'd grown a pretty thick skin by then, and a badfic is really nothing compared to some of the things you can face in World One. Back then there wasn't much of a workload, either. After a while, though, it all becomes just another job, you get desensitised." Pausing for a moment, the old man couldn't help a small chuckle. "Trust me," he said. "Sometimes it's more frustrating teaching a recruit how to properly fire a gun than it is to charge a Sue. I sometimes wish I was back out there."

"I know. It's why I don't intend to pry. But you hand me fragments of it now and then. If I appreciate those, why shouldn't I provide time where you needn't glance over your shoulder and censor yourself?"

Her smile became somewhat teasing. "Maybe I'm lulling you into false security about the game. Maybe I'm playing another five games beyond the one you can see. Or maybe I just enjoy seeing you try to work out what I'm doing." Rilwen stretched a little, smiling lazily. "I agree. Let's go." She headed for the door, pace measured. Knowing Crelmos, he'd likely want to get the last word before they left. And it was the generous act of a friend to give it to him, no?

"That depends on how much you particularly care to know," he said at last. "I'm not very loose-tongued when it comes to my past. That, at least, you ought to know by now."

One corner of his mouth curved in a faint smile, mocking her own with its obviously contrived innocence. "And you really must learn to stop making assumptions. You lasted for quite a while the last time we played, but I must say, jumping to conclusions is not a good long-term strategy. But come," he added, "let's stop dawdling, hm?"

She gave a demure smile before looking back up at him. "Yes, I rather think we shall, even if you are likely to win yet again." Her smile turned wry. "At least I win more games of dejarik, for now. The scores in both should even out over time."

She turned to go, tilting her head back to look up at him. "Reminisce as much or as little as you like while we play. I'll be audience for whatever of it you feel like sharing."

"How thoughtful of you. But I must admit, I had only stopped by out of curiosity, and the atmosphere is beginning to wear on my nerves somewhat."

He narrowed his eyes slightly, adding, "That moment of silence a little while previously was the most properly respectful part of the whole affair. Honestly, they're like Klingons... my people have a proper reverence for the dead."

There was a low hiss to his words now, which intensified as he said, "But of course, this place is not very hospitable to Cardassians in any case... tsk," he chided himself, "all that talk of Astatine has been forcing me to dwell on the past too long."

The smile he offered was slightly forced, but his voice remained velvety as always. "Kotra sounds delightful. Shall we go?"

"It's fine," she smiled up at him, "Ya could talk in Klingon an' I wouldn't give a damn right now." Then the irony of the situation struck her, and she couldn't hold back a wry laugh. They were at a celebration to remember the dead, and she was feeling so alive...

"Wonder what Sara an' Cass'd say if they could see us," she commented, running her hand through his hair and trying to smooth it back into some semblance of order.

Meanwhile, Kelvin finally caught sight of them again, having lost them in the crowd of dancers before. He watched them quietly, a fond smile on his face. At least they looked happy enough.

"I think so, too. I mean, that I love you, not--oh, bugger," he groaned, blushing furiously.

Mouth, meet brain. Brain, meet mouth. Now connect and communicate.

Zach leaned against the wall to his back and savored the woman in his arms, enjoying the fact that she seemed to fit there nicely.

she hesitated for a moment, then said quietly, "Zach... I think I've fallen in love with ya."

...Oh, nice one. Really smart.

Despite that, voicing it made it all the more real, and she snuggled into him, enjoying the comfortable warmth of his closeness.

"I don't know a lot of things," he murmured back, idly running his fingers through her hair and resting his chin on her head. "Enlighten me?"

'e kissed me back. 'e doesn't care if I'm an idiot. If this's insane, I want ta move inta the nut'ouse an' stay there.

From the way he was holding her, he didn't particularly want to let go any time soon, but she was very much aware of the hot drink she was holding and thus responded to him carefully. The last thing she wanted was to accidentally hurt him.

Eventually, Nat slowly broke the kiss, but only so that she could put the drink down and wrap her arms around Zach properly, one arm around his waist and the other hand resting on his shoulder. Leaning her head on the other shoulder and pulling him as close as she could, she closed her eyes and heaved a sigh, almost unable to contain her happiness.

"Ya know somethin'?" she murmured, but then paused, unsure how to say what she was feeling. Maybe he'd think she was insane if she said that. Uncertain, she just bit her lip again and tightened her embrace a little. No point in spoiling this moment.