((Training Gym, Starfleet Academy, San Francisco, Earth))
If it was one thing she knew about Master Chief Graves, the man never backed down when challenged. Much to many cadets dismay, it was physical challenges. Today Aine would push him in a way few would ever think to try.
Sherlock: I do. And I always will unless you change my mind.
Graves leaned in closer, the pair were nearly nose-to-nose. Every muscle in Aine's body tensed. She didn't think he'd just attack her, but you never knew when you were trying to anger someone just what they'd do.
Graves: You don't know the first thing about it little girl...
Sherlock: Don't call me little girl. You're speaking to a Lieutenant.
His eyes narrowed again. She wondered if he could even see at this point.
Graves: Thirteen people from your ship died, yes?
Graves: And I'm assuming you knew them?
Sherlock: Some of them, yes.
Graves: And I bet you're feeling those losses, right here. ::poking her in the chest::
Sherlock: Of course.
Graves: Now just imagine that number is in the thousands. Every one we lost back then we all carry, and we don't need more.
Though their numbers weren't directly comparable, she full well understood. And maybe it was the disparity in those numbers, but she didn't want hers going up either.
Sherlock: And if I were to walk away right now, how would I keep that number down?
She wasn't expecting an answer. She just wanted him to think about it. She backed off a step.
Sherlock: I have a shuttle set to leave tonight at 1700 for a transport back to Risa. If I don't hear from you by then, I'll assume the answer is no.
She turned and this time wouldn't stop or look back. There was nothing more to say. He was either in or out and when she departed Earth, she'd have her answer. For the time being...she was hungry.
Lieutenant Aine Sherlock
Chief of Security