<div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: courier;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><strong>Scene 02</strong></span></span></div><br/><hr/><br/><strong>Location</strong>: ADAMS Headquarters (First Haven, Watcher’s Island). The Pilot’s Barracks - Cafeteria<br/><strong>Date</strong>: 5 January 2099. Monday<br/><strong>Time</strong>: Morning<br/><strong>Who</strong>: Ian Harker<br/><br/><hr/><br/>“Turn it up!” A female voice pierced through the cacophony of the cafeteria. Opposing choruses of<em>yes</em>or<em>no</em>and even a childish<em>no you turn it up</em>erupted from different tables, though the demand was eventually met. The volume of the flat screen televisions strategically placed on the walls of cafeteria were turned up. Ian tried to ignore everyone’s chatter as his eyes skimmed across that morning’s breakfast spread. It wasn’t anything special, but it was good and Ian wasn’t one to complain about food. Not when there was so much of it. Being one of ADAMS dogs had many of its perks and privileges, and consistent access to food was probably the biggest one.<br/><br/>“And ya’ll need to shut it. I wanna hear this. That’s our people gonna be up there.” A male voiced bellowed from the far end of the cafeteria. The same chorus of agreement and disagreement wavered across the cafeteria, though the overall noise level did lower. Ian wasn’t particularly looking forward to watching the press conference while he was eating, but if everyone was busy watching it that meant breakfast might be relatively quiet for once. The options for breakfast that morning was the usual rice, different styles of heated bread, eggs, some type of porridge that Ian definitely wasn’t eating, and a variety of fruits. It didn’t take him long to make his selection. He pointed out what he wanted and one of the kitchen personnel served it up on his tray.<br/><br/>“Harker,” a familiar voice greeted as Ian was just about to place his drink order.<br/><br/>“<Where’s your tray, Vasquez?>” Ian asked in Spanish after greeting his friend with a lazy smile.<br/><br/>“<Nothing for me. I’ve got to report for synch testing in a hour. Just getting some coffee. You getting the same?>”<br/><br/>When Ian nodded Vasquez went ahead and asked for two coffees. One black and one with extra sugar. As they waited for their drinks Ian glanced over his shoulder to choose out his seat. The cafeteria was full though quite a few trainees and pilots were missing their trays. Ian guessed they were only there to watch the press conference. There weren’t that many open seats, with one exception. There was one table full of empty seats. Vasquez caught Ian’s wandering eyes and followed his gaze. They both stared at the figure that sat all alone. “<You know that’s Cyborg, yeah? He’s all touchy about that name now though.>”<br/><br/>“No shit,” Ian murmured in response as he looked away from Cy and reached for his coffee as the kitchen personnel set the two cups down on the counter. He went for the black one but Vasquez snatched it up before Ian’s fingers could wrap around it. Ian scowled as he realized the joke before the other pilot said it.<br/><br/>“<Hey now, this one isn’t for you. Sugar needs to take his sugar,>” Vasquez said as a grin that was worthy of smacking off his face took over his mouth. The best response would have been to just outright ignore it, but Ian couldn’t do it. Ian told Vasquez to go fuck himself as he picked up the coffee with extra sugar. It was a tired joke, but for some reason no one seemed to get tired of it. Ian didn’t really like having Sugar as his call sign, but there were worst call signs to have. At least his didn’t have an embarrassing story behind it. Sugar because of the sugar skulls he helped make and decorated during Día de Muertos. Sugar because his personality was far from sweet. The nickname probably wouldn’t have even stuck if Ian hadn’t reacted so vehemently against it the first few times people had called him it.<br/><br/>Vasquez was still wearing his shit eating grin as he sipped his coffee and said goodbye before making his way out of the cafeteria. Ian set his coffee down on his tray and picked it up. He left the line and started off towards one of the more crowded tables to go sit with some other people he was on friendly terms with, but something stopped him. The image of Cy sitting there with only his breakfast for company made Ian turn around and head towards the deserted table.<br/><br/>When had he turned into such a goddamn sap? He was going to have to fix that later, but for now he’d give in to it. Ian supposed there wasn’t any harm in it though. He’d never been all that close to Cy, but he did know the guy and Ian hadn’t really talked with him since the ADAMS higher ups had revoked his piloting clearance. Now that Cy had it back there was a possibility they might end up co-piloting Sariel some day soon.<br/><br/>Ian dropped his tray onto the table across from Cy and slumped down in one of the many open chairs. He turned his dark brown eyes onto Cy’s face. Ian didn’t give him a smile, but there wasn’t anything hostile or displeased in the way Ian sat or looked at the other man. “Hey Cabatuan,” Ian greeted as he lifted his fork and sliced himself a generously sized portion of egg to put into his mouth. “Been a while. What’s up with you?”