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Loose Cannon -- PL: MCpt Patterson

USS Darmok Lounge


by Marine Captain Travis Patterson
[Stardate ]

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"Loose Cannon..."
PL: Marine Captain Travis Patterson, Reconn Intercept Officer
SD: 201801.21

Travis, as usual, dressed in his combat fatigues with a cigar in one hand, a PADD in the other, and a glass resting on the table in front of him, sat at one of the booths in the corner of Six-Forward, his brow slightly crooked in what one could only describe as a look of mild frustration and deep thought. He would often mumble to himself; words with no valuable interpretation, occasional vulgarities, and a number of grumbled complaints, but nothing that would otherwise have been unusual. Placing the cigar down in the ashtray he had brought (in hindsight it seemed no ship he's ever been on had people who appreciated the flavor of a good cigar...) and giving it a gentle tap to knock off the ashes, he raised the glass to his lips and took a gentle sip before returning it to nearly the exact same spot it was before he touched it. This was part of the routine that happened every minute or so, and certainly proved that the Marine was a man of subconscious precision, as a closer look would show that there was only a single water ring from the glass, even after he had lifted it and set it down multiple times.

Again, he spoke audibly, but to no one in particular, as he leaned back a bit. "Loose cannon... every single one of them called me a loose cannon. Why, of ALL things, do they call me a cannon? Don't they know precision when they see it?" It was obvious he was looking at all the commendations and reviews he had been given, and yes, every single one referred to the Captain as a 'loose cannon.' "I could understand quick-draw, spitfire, gritty, even arrogant, but... loose cannon?!" He sighed, taking a deep gulp of the contents of his glass before inadvertently slamming the glass back down, again in the exact same spot it was every time before. He gave his head a scratch, setting the PADD down on the table, and lifted his cigar again as he looked around the room, noticing the gazes of others now looking at him with glances of surprise. He lowered his head a bit, shaking it, and silently finished his glass, then stood and approached the bar, setting the now empty cup on it... then smirked softly. "Least I wasn't called a pea-shooter, huh?"

END LOG
   
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