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Some actual sleep had done wonders. Peyton was no longer moving around Deus in a fog of exhaustion and self imposed busy work, though she was still trying very hard not to dwell much on the mission she'd so recently returned from. It still made her cringe.

Currently the dainty Sun was sitting in the cafeteria with an MRE on the table in front of her. She'd just opened it, and was in the process of pulling out the various packets of "food" from inside, though today's menu wasn't bad. She'd lucked out and grabbed one with ravioli in it. She wasn't sure if it was a mark to the MRE's credit that their ravioli was almost indistinguishable to what came in cans on the super market shelves back home, or a mark against the supermarkets. Either way, it was about the best she could have hoped for from the military meal rations.

Peyton startled as someone dropped down beside her and damn near squished the contents of her meal packet all over the place before catching herself and loosening her fingers around it. She gave Ro a look, almost annoyed, before realizing it was completely unfair of her, and settled on a smile. It wasn't his fault she was jumpy. "Hey. Yeah, lunch time." It sounded as though she were referring to a troubling chore rather then a meal, but that's what it'd come to after having nothing else for so long. It wasn't eating for enjoyment anymore, it was eating because you had to eat.

Except on the rare occasion you lucked out and got something that wasn't awful, like today. She glanced down at her ravioli, then at his burrito, grimacing. "They do, and they taste almost exactly like the canned stuff back home." With a grin she speared one of the small stuffed pastas on the end of her fork and held it up for him. "Try it."

She eyed the unrecognizable mass of what was supposed to be burrito innards on Roland's spoon as if she didn't completely trust them to be edible, which was, in all honesty, the truth. However she didn't eventually lean forward to take the offered bite, gingerly. He was right, it wasn't awful. Peyton wouldn't call it good, not by any stretch, but it wasn't the worst thing she'd eaten lately.

With a grimace she took another bite of her ravioli to replace the taste in her mouth. "You're right, it's not bad, but I wouldn't call it good either." She paused, considering if it had actually been the taste that turned her off. "I think it's the texture that turns me off. Burritos shouldn't been eaten with spoons." It was said with a quick grin, though that faded as he asked how she was doing.

"I'm fine. It was a long week." She poked her fork around in her package. "I got promoted." No mention of the mission itself.

He had a point, and she gave him a considering nod and a roll of her shoulders. "Fair point. I guess I just don't eat that many burritos." She preferred fajitas, if she had the choice, so that was what she'd usually ordered when she and her father and sister had gone out for anything south of the boarder. Those few and far between occurrences.

As the conversation shifted back towards hr recent promotion and mission she let her attention fall back to the packet in her hands, poking around at the contents thoughtfully. "I'm pleased I got promoted, really pleased." Pale lips twitched upward, lavender eyes flicking up to him and then down again. "It was a hard mission. It seemed like things started going wrong from the moment we arrived." She grimaced, features pinching. "I don't really want to talk about it, yet." The prongs of her fork sank into a ravioli. "Let's talk about something else. How've you been?"

"Why does your Ex think that?" Peyton was eager to jump at a topic that lead away from missions, and really, she had a hard time imagining Roland in a negative light. He just seemed so nice all the time, helpful. She'd never seen him being rude, or bullying, or baiting people. In an island full of crazies, he seemed really level headed and decent.

His recount of the tournament sounded awfully familiar, and she laughed, soft and bitter, but she smiled nonetheless. "Yeah, I got all the way to the semis then lost the third place slot as well." The last two loses had been hard on her, she was still upset over it, but knew she shouldn't be. Having gotten that far, with only one good arm, was impressive. She knew that, she'd been told that by multiple people. The girl should be proud of herself, and part of her was, but part of her had really wanted to win.

Peyton was very quiet for a moment, listening as Roland explained the situation between himself and his ex. About the memory lose, and the logical assumption that it had been caused by the tear. They'd all lost something, hadn't they? Even if she wasn't aware of what was still missing, Peyton had known she'd forgotten things, it had become obvious when the memories had come back to her.

And she couldn't imagine how it would feel to have someone that used to mean something to you have no idea about it. The memories just gone, as if they'd never existed in the first place. It was a disturbing thought.

So once again she was glad for the shift in their conversation, if that switch was towards the tournament, and the final rounds when the stakes had been the highest. She frowned, and followed Ro's lead by putting her ravioli down, propped up against her another packet. "I think we all got a little carried away at the end," she admitted softly, sliding her fingers together, over her palms. "I know I did, I know Al did in our third place match. He fought dirty. Nothing mattered to him but winning." Her lips twitched, recalling the unexpected blow to her temple through the window. The sneaky, underhanded tactics he'd employed to try to fluster her.

She remembered smashing his head into the pavement. Sinking her heel between his legs. He'd deserved it..

Pale eyes rolled up to him, watching him through a veil of blonde waves as he explained things better, and she nodded. "I can relate to that." She hadn't truly expected things to get that out of control, they'd had the damage dampeners, but that knowledge hadn't been enough to keep her from fighting with the same desperation she'd have shown a real threat. Specially at the end. "A lot of us went overboard," she told him quietly, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table before placing her chin on the interlaced shelf of her fingers.

"Jack picked me up and threw me. There had been no need for that, but he's bigger then me, and he's an a*****e. So he lifted me up and threw me at the ground. If the damage dampeners hadn't been present.. " No, her shield hadn't quite been broken at that point. It had taken a final, insulting smack to the back of her head with the hilt of his sword. It had made the world go grey, and when she could see again she'd been laying on the grass. It had been a painful lose, in more ways then one.

She looked at him again, watching his face. "Don't beat yourself up." It wasn't worth it. "You're a good guy. One of the nicest ones on this rock."

"You're not going to please everybody, or even most people, really." She frowned, features going momentarily introspective before focusing on his face once again. It was clear that something was wearing on him, and she turned in her seat so she was facing him. "You try, that counts. That's more then a lot of people do." Small hands came down to hang onto the edge of her seat between her thighs, and she leaned forward. "At least you're not going out of your way to harass people, or to bring anyone else down." It was more then she could say of some of their comrades.

Pale eyes slid down to the tile floor, and she searched until she could find the long gouge that had been made by Rep's weapon when he'd threatened Taym. It held her attention for a quiet moment. "There's always going to be shitty people, and there's always going to be missions, but we have to keep moving forward, right?"