--"Lieutenant, I'm glad that I can count on you. We will need you ready to sortie in 48 hours. We are still 6 days from Solomon, but we must make a stop to resupply. Lieutenant you are dismissed."--<br/><br/>The words drifted through the air and Romav didn't fully come to until he had already returned to his quarters. The world seemed to return to him all at once and he realized where he was and that he was sitting at his desk. There was a familiar picture in the corner of the desk haphazardly discarded there in a rush during one of the brief moments between battles. Viktor was tired, more tired than he'd care to admit. He wasn't as young as he once was and it'd been a long time since he'd been in the heat of battle. He liked the idea of taking a nap but there was this nagging feeling in the back of his mind. Especially with battle so close<br/><br/>There was scant a moment to be had aboard the Fury where he wasn't running to his Kämpfer or trying to get his suit ready for the next engagement but there seemed to be time missing from his stay on the ship and he couldn't quite place his finger on it. He took the time to lay down in his bed more so collapsing than anything else and sleep overtook him but rest could not find him.<br/><br/>His dreams were plagued with bizarre images. He perceived his own captain and could hear his words despite the captain's mouth remaining closed but the words were unintelligible; they blurred and overlapped each other and only left emotional impression on Romav. Then all at once the image evaporated, in his mind he could hear the rage filled Ensign bellowing at him; berating him while holding a Zeonic flag. He chided Romav and Romav could feel the rage even in his slumber speaking of honor and loyalty. It sounded like a distant cry but was still remarkably clear and all at once a wave of anger and pain crashed onto the Lieutenant and bolted the Lieutenant upright. Barely an hour had passed and the sheets around him were strewn about. It was obvious that Viktor had been tossing about violently in his sleep.<br/><br/>The pilot stood up resigning himself to no sleep and shifted to the small desk he'd left the picture at and picked it up.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Thenia. . . What am I doing?" Is this the proper course?</span><br/><br/>The picture slipped from his hand back to the desk and he plucked the uniform jacket he'd laid over the back of the chair and cinched it about his torso. It didn't fit as well as it used to but it was presentable. He tugged at the bottom to even it out and looked into the small vanity mirror in the corner. His eyes were glassy and red and his hair was disheveled. Doing his best Viktor slicked it back and tried to even out the mustache and looked passable for a Zeon officer.<br/><br/>"Maybe some food will help."<br/><br/>He somberly exited the room and took the lift handle through the hallways not bothering to note any other crew until he'd reached the mess hall. There was no one there save for an assistant mindlessly moving things around as though the ship had received its entire supply just before the first event. Romav quietly approached the crew member who wasn't even aware of the Lieutenant's presence until all at once the gold trim glimmering caught the corner of his eye and the lad snapped around and almost threw what he was holding into the air trying to snap to attention.<br/><br/>"L-Lieutenant! I'm sorry sir I didn't see you!"<br/><br/>"Whoa whoa at ease. It's ok, go about your business." "Yes sir!"<br/><br/>He resumed moving but with a decided suspicion towards the officer.<br/><br/>"Is there something I can get you. . Sir?"<br/><br/>"Just. . . Is there any surplus food available? I'm a bit rusty to mobile suit battles and I was looking to get something to settle my stomach and maybe a<span style="text-decoration: underline">drink</span>?"<br/><br/>He emphasized the word drink just faintly hoping the crew member either caught on and helped him or ignored him altogether.