Adonis didn't look up from the datapad and flimsi prints in front of him, far too busy working his way through the meticulous morning routine that Lieutenant Ocasta had so frustratingly taken it upon himself to disrupt. It wasn't that Commander Inirial was averse to interruptions - his door was always open, and that was a policy that he wholeheartedly embraced and stood by. Over his years as an intelligence officer he'd become quite adept at multitasking, as well as working in dangerous environments under extreme pressure, so the Lieutenant's presence wasn't really a distraction, either. No, the problem was something else entirely.

"It's a three hour reconnaissance mission, Mr Ocasta."

There was a tiredness to Adonis' voice; not quite annoyance, but perhaps slowly making it's way there. The frustration wasn't sourced from the fact that Ocasta was quibbling over his orders. It wasn't that the Lieutenant was questioning his analysis, and the decisions based upon them. It was the fact that Oisin Ocasta was questioning himself. It was one of the most irritating aspects of having to interact with sentient beings. The vast majority either had a ludicrously inflated sense of their own importance and abilities, or instead woefully undervalued the contributions they could potentially offer to their unit, their command, and the Alliance as a whole.

From what Adonis had read in the man's service record, it was a chronic problem. Ocasta was an incredibly talented fighter pilot - talented enough to earn a spot in Rogue Squadron, back in the days when only twelve pilots at a time earned that honour. Yet, he undervalued himself, preferring to volunteer for lone reconnaissance missions that - unless they went catastrophically wrong - demanded almost none of his piloting abilities. His record described him as an observant and contemplative officer, one who rapidly earned the respect of his peers, and who had a keen sense for strategy and tactics. He should have made a fantastic leader, could have easily been commanding his own squadron by now; but he played it safe, refused to seize the opportunities that dangled in front of him.

Adonis wouldn't stand for that. Not only did it grate painfully against the Commander's sensibilities; there was a personal investment, too. Oisin had been his sister's wingman for a time, and Adonis had read enough Rogue Squadron mission reports to know that his sister's safety and survival was in part thanks to the Lieutenant. More than that, Carré described him as a friend; a friend from Alderaan no less, one of an ever dwindling number still out there in the galaxy. Ocasta deserved the benefits that came with the opportunities he squandered. Adonis would force him to accept them, whether he liked it or not.

"What could possibly go wrong?"