Brielle and Isolde make friends while doing their laundry.
Location: Laundry, Deck 6, Galactica
Related Scenes: None
Scene Number: 858
Specialist Isolde Ko Asa is seated on one of the top-loading washing machines, it grumbling and rumbling beneath her as it sees to her recent load of clothes. She is reading an old paperback -- a grossly abused thing with heavy creases in the cover, and pages dog-eared and misshapen from a water spill. She casually turns the page, completely oblivious to the traffic passing through the laundry room. Two rather loud-mouthed marines even pass her by, boasting about their recent Cylon toe-to-toe and Isolde hardly looks up.
Brielle comes into the laundry room, carrying a basket of clothes that need to be washed. She's got her sketchbook on top and a book underneath. The word 'Cylon' can be partially seen as she puts it to the side and then opens one of the washers to get it going. She puts in her darks first, going for the cold water wash. It's clear that laundromats are not strangers for the career Marine as she feeds it in. She's not wearing her uniform but there are plenty of jumpsuits indicating that she's most likely in engineering rather than combat because of the outfits she's washing.
"Go light on the soap," Isolde informs Brielle, looking up just briefly from her paperback to the engineer. "The sudding power of that washer is profound." She flashes a tiny smile to the woman, and then gets a gander of the jumpsuits in Brielle's basket. "Ooh, a gearhead," the computer techy points out, and her smile broadens a bit. "You work on the Galactica, or down on the deck with the Vipers and Raptors?"
"Demolitions..." Brielle tells her as she nods to the jumpsuits that she's putting in the washer, "And I tinker on the side...so I moonlight on the gearhead." She gives a half smile and then nods to her, "Where do they have you? In the sky? Or on the ground?" She motions to the uniform that obviously makes her a Marine, "Enlisted..." Not an officer. She's clearly a grunt, not someone of a higher pay grade.
"See, that's something I've only ever dabbled in, but I hear there's some amazing effects you can do with demolitions." Isolde continues paperback abuse, and folds over the page she's on, and rolls the book up to tuck into her back pocket. At the question of where she belongs on this behemoth, Isolde shrugs slightly. "I'm with the proud, albeit small, computer tech team. We're here to keep Galactica's computer systems up and running." She grins. "I, too, moonlight with the gearheads though... specifically on the flight deck." She slides off the washer with a light thunk of her boots to the ground. "I'm Isolde Asa," she holds out a hand, flashing the intricate geometric tattoo on her wrist.
Brielle grins at the woman and reaches out to take her hand, her own hand is covered in small, tiny scars as one of the hazards of working with things that can blow up on you, "Sergeant Brielle Jones...and computer tech? Pretty cool." She lets go of her hand, "I'm more on the mechanical side myself. My foster dad had a shop...I worked it when I was growing up after school. I decided to go demolitions rather than technical but I still enjoy tinkering here and there." She gives a nod to the girl since she didn't mention a rank, "Are you a civilian?" It's not out of the realm here.
Isolde beams at the idea of someone thinking her job is cool, and she doesn't even sound patronizing about it. Tucking a coil of dark hair behind her ear, the Hacker nods along with Brielle's abbreviated story. "See, I was left to my own devices on The Net and Holobands. So, I got real good at mucking around with code. Spent some time with microfabricating, though I wouldn't call it tinkering." At the question of being civilian almost has Isolde laughing, and she shakes her head. "Oh no, Jones... I'm forever bound to the military... blood oathed." Her smile turns a little brittle. "My dad is a veteran Marine with the Tauron Corps, and so is my brother, and my sister is a military shrink." She shakes her head slightly. "I'm with the Navy Enlisted folks... Specialist Asa."
Brielle flushes a bit and the shakes her head, "Sorry...about the assumption. It's not often I spend time with the Air Wing." It takes her a moment to make out what the equivalent would be in her own side of the fence and once she makes the connection, she offers, "Hey...at least your family has traditions." She gives points to herself, "If my mention of 'foster dad' didn't give it away, I'm basically on my own." She says it in a way that it doesn't appear to bother her. She puts in the rest of her clothes for this load, goes light on the soap and then gets it started, "So what do you think of this place...pretty cool huh?" Battlestar class...yeah, Brielle has never been on anything this fancy.
"Don't worry about it," Isolde says, waving her hand dismissively. "I'm not really one to think of myself as a military woman first and foremost..." There's a sense she has more to say there, but she lets it go like a loose feather in the wind. As Brielle shares, the Hacker finds herself longing for the life Brielle dismisses -- but isn't that how it goes? The person who has the family breathing down her neck would rather not have any at all? She offers a small smile all the same. "Sounds like your foster dad is pretty cool though." Then the mention of the Galactica causes Isolde to look up and around with a slowly-broadening grin. "Yeah... she's amazing." Something in Isolde's voice suggests she has a genuine fondness for the ship people have referred to as a 'beast' and 'too big for comfort'. "She's got some characteristics, too... but she's smart, and fast, and is going to be the turning point in this... I promise you that."
"Yeah...he was lenient, left me alone on the most part and as long as I helped him in the shop, he didn't give me any grief," Brielle tells her with a shrug, "I mean...they only took in kids for the extra income from the government so they weren't exactly all touchy feeling but they weren't horrible." She clearly leaves her birth family out of the conversation, only talking about the foster one, "Some kids I grew up with had it worse..." Some better but she clearly is a half full person who tries to see the bright side, "Joined the Marines to get out of the dump I grew up in." She doesn't get into specifics, "Yeah...she's something else. I'm used to working with outdated tech so it's nice to have someone just off the line." She smiles when she refers to the ship as a person rather than a thing. Brielle sees mechanical things as having a life of their own too.
"Hey, I don't mean to sound like I'm knocking it... there's got to people who love this job, there just has to be... otherwise, well..." Her shoulders roll slightly. "I think it's great that the Marines did what they needed to, to give you a path." Something in Isolde's voice sounds a bit down on herself, but she quickly lets it go as she straightens up. Her washer dings, and she starts the process of moving her clothes to the dryer across the narrow aisle. "You'll love the Galactica... she's a wonder. I remember when I got here nine months ago... she was all skeleton, patched with bits and pieces of her hull. She looked beautiful even then, and has only gotten lovelier."
"Hey...it's okay. Not everyone is a walking testimonial," Brielle says with a laugh, "And really, I could probably find the sliver of sunlight on a rainy day so don't mind me." She gives her a wink and finds another washer to do her whites in, "And hey, if you ever need to vent, let me know. I got a pretty decent set of listening ears." She flashes her a smile, "And this might sound totally nerdy but the first night I got here, I had to put my ear up against the wall and lost a whole hour just listening to this girl churn. It was like an orchestra in motion."
The Hacker laughs at Brielle's optimism. "Oh, friend... we're going to need that sliver of sunshine everywhere when we actually leave the comfort of the docks." She relaxes, looking at ease once her laundry is in the dryer and she's activated the machine. It rumbles and spins, churning her clothes appropriately. The offer to vent draws Isolde's gaze back toward the woman, and she nods after a thoughtful moment. "Maybe after a couple shots of whiskey." Then, she nods agreeably with Brielle's fondness for Galactica, happy to have found someone else who can love this ship for what she is: absolutely amazing. "Oh no, that's not nerdy... that is perfection, in my eyes." She beams. "Good to see I'm not the only one onboard that will appreciate the Galactica for what she is." Then she
The Hacker laughs at Brielle's optimism. "Oh, friend... we're going to need that sliver of sunshine everywhere when we actually leave the comfort of the docks." She relaxes, looking at ease once her laundry is in the dryer and she's activated the machine. It rumbles and spins, churning her clothes appropriately. The offer to vent draws Isolde's gaze back toward the woman, and she nods after a thoughtful moment. "Maybe after a couple shots of whiskey." Then, she nods agreeably with Brielle's fondness for Galactica, happy to have found someone else who can love this ship for what she is: absolutely amazing. "Oh no, that's not nerdy... that is perfection, in my eyes." She beams. "Good to see I'm not the only one onboard that will appreciate the Galactica for what she is." Then she stretches slightly. "I'm guessing you were the lucky ones who got a bunk assignment? I swear it was only the Officers this time around."
"I've been here since October...so spent two weeks sleeping in a hallway on some makeshift bedding and then finally got my bunk," Brielle admits to her with a laughs, "It's really not that bad. I was in a hot zone where there was civil unrest and things blowing up around me so coming from that to this place where the perfection of Galactica is whirling in the background was sheer heaven and I slept like a baby." She gives a laugh, "And after growing up, sleeping on a fifteen year old mattress...it's not so bad. Less lumps on the most part." Life in the military might cause Brielle to rough it once in awhile but nothing like what she's dealt with before.
Isolde shakes her head. "I feel like such a nugget sometimes," the Tauron confesses. "I haven't seen a single instance of combat. I'm the lump back fixing the computer systems." She laughs a bit, almost feeling awkward. "I guess that will change pretty soon here." She offers a small twitch of a smile, and then she shakes her head self-deprecatingly. "I don't know if I'm jealous or thankful at this point."
"Be jealous...be very, very jealous," Brielle tells her with a laugh, showing off her arms that carry the scars from her work out in the battlefield, "I mean where else could I get these ego marks that I can strut around and claim my superiority to others because I was silly enough to sign up for a hot zone." She winks at her, trying to make her feel better about not having battle experience, "And look. Nothing prepares you for the real thing. The important thing is to keep a cool head, keep doing your job and pay attention to your surroundings." She turns and shows her the old shrapnel scar that has a Celtan saying scripted overtop, "And don't turn your back on the enemy ever."
Isolde dimples at Brielle easily, and then she looks over the scars. She laughs at her claims to superiority. "I only have a cut where I nicked my arm on the sharp edge of a computer shell." She shakes her head, looking amused all the same. At Brielle's words of comfort, the Hacker nods slightly. The flash of the tattooed scar draws her brows up. "Now, my brother does that... tattoo his scars." She admires it, but the warning it comes up, draws a sharp nod from the unblooded Tauron.
"Yeah...these baby scars on my arms aren't bad enough to get sleeves just yet but if I get a few more, I might consider it," Brielle tells her with a laugh as she mentions that her brother tattoos his scars too, "And these are just annoying, side affections of the job. The one of the shoulder put me in the infirmary for a week." She shakes her head, "And that drove me nuts. Having shrapnel picked out of your shoulder isn't fun."
"I can only imagine," Isolde says, dark brows arching high over her equally dark eyes. She catches the corner of her lip, gnawing slightly. "Well, I suppose the first scar Cylons give me, we will have to make sure it is commemorated with a tattoo. We can start a trend." She flashes a quick smile to Brielle. Then she hoists herself back up on top of the now empty washer, swinging her feet a bit. "So, I gotta ask... did you volunteer for the Colonial Forces? It seems like there's... quite a few who aren't thrilled about inter-Colonial cooperation..."
"I go where the action is," Brielle tells her with a smile, "So yes...I volunteered. And I'm fine with all of this inter-colonial activities. It's hard to have national pride when you live in the gutters as a kid. For me...I'm loyal to the Marines. My brothers and sisters of arms. And I serve my country to the best of my ability but until they make racial profiling part of the requirements of the job, I'll prefer to leave that at the door." As an afterthought she mentions, "And I know a kickass artist that's in my group. He's a bit of a grump coot but he's fantastic. And I'm going to have him refresh some ink I got a while back that wasn't that good."
Isolde looks like she understands quite a bit what Brielle is saying about national pride. Based on her tattooing, she definitely is proud of her Tauron heritage. She crosses her arms a bit, looking across the laundry room at two pilots who are joking around about their current lack of Vipers (they're almost done getting painted, guys, really!). "I think that we are going to be barking and biting at each other until we're shoulder-to-shoulder against the Cylons. But, we'll get there... I hope." She looks back over to Brielle, brows arched at the mention of the tattoo artist. "Hey, well... let him know I'm interested... I have to get a mark for this assignment now that I'm official and all."
"Absolutely...let me just touch base and see how he feels about inking Air Wing," Brielle teases her, winking to let her know she's not serious about prejudice on her side but she doesn't know if her friend will be game without talking to him, "And yeah...as long as we have these inconveniences and no enemy to fight, folks will be poking at each other because let's face it, most of us are combatants. We're used to fighting."
Isolde laughs. "You can tell him I'm really just tech support for the Galactica. Only Air Wing when I need to moonlight with the deck monkeys." She flashes a broad grin at that. "I'm fluid." She makes a flowing gesture with her hands. "There's some talk that I might end up ECO at some point, but I don't know how I feel about that yet... I've never really been... excited about toolin' around in a Raptor." She flashes a broad grin there. "Besides, I would have to become an officer, and that's just gross."
"What does E-C-O stand for?" Brielle asks, not being all that familiar with what's the different terminology is in the Air Wing group, "And what do they do? I thought you guys were all pilots and techs." See, this Marine needs a bit of an education on how her group works.
"Oh... Electronic Countermeasures Officer," Isolde provides. "Basically, runs the sensors, the countermeasures, DRADIS, the turrets... basically the co-pilot and gunner officer. It is about as close as anyone is going to get me to join the actual Air Wing." She flashes a sheepish smile. "You see, I'm really just supposed to be here on a temporary assignment to make sure that Galactica's computer network is good to go in actual situations. I'm really just the IT person. But, the CAG has let me moonlight on the deck crew so I'm not just spinning around in the tech shop, waiting for something to break."
"Now that is a job I could have sunk my teeth into," Brielle admits with a laugh, "If the Air Wing had been willing to take a chance on a kid from the projects." She gives a shake of her head and clearly they weren't, "I got turned down but it's okay...I was meant to be on the ground not in the sky I guess." And she's not officer material anyway.
"I bet they would, and still would," Isolde says with a flash of a grin. "Not something outside your reach, I bet." She then shrugs her shoulders slightly. "If things keep going as they are, we're gonna need people who can move in and out of different positions." Because we're going to run out of people, Isolde silently adds. She then jumps off the washer with a light thud of her boots again. "Who knows what's going to happen next..."
"Nah, that ship passed me long ago and I really like it anyway," Brielle gives her a big smile and then says in a low voice, "And being up there." She points in the sky, "Makes me want to puke...so it's just as well they didn't want me cause if so...my poor viper pilot would have been running for the hills or I would have had to keep a second helmet in the raptor for my lunch."
Isolde laughs brightly, shaking her head as she does. "You know, I've never flown a Viper... I have no idea how well I would do. I would probably do really awful, and be told to never fly ever again." She dimples at Brielle, her grin broad. Then she shrugs a shoulder. "Hey, do you play cards? I'm trying to get a game going, and you should totally represent the demolitionists."
"I have absolutely no poker face so as long as you don't mind not playing for money or anything else that I would mind losing then we're on," Brielle tells her as she hops down so she can move her clothes to the dryer, "But I like playing for fun." She gives her a hopeful look because she likes chatting with Isolde and hopes they can hang even if they're on opposite teams.
Isolde laughs. "Hey, use that to your benefit!" The hacker grins, but gestures. "No, it'll be for fun, I promise." She lays her hand on her chest, offering a vow. As Brielle moves her laundry along, Isolde's own laundry gives a soft ding that it is all finished. She grabs up her basket, and steps over to unload the dryer of her uniform greens. "I gotta get back to tech shop, almost my shift... hey, you can stop by later, if you like. I could use the company."
"I am totally there with bells on," Brielle uses an old saying that her foster mom used to use, "Consider me there once I get this laundry done, do my shift and have some free time." Yep, Brielle is having an awesome day, first she found an old friend and now she's making a new one...with an Air Wing tech no less. Lots of knowledge to get out of that, "So you will be hearing from me...just not tonight."
"Whatever works," Isolde says with a grin. "I'm offering up my bunk to a couple wayward souls who didn't get their berthing assignments yet, so I'm sleeping in the tech shop. You can totally find me there." She hefts up her laundry like it weighs a ton, and then starts to the door. "Nice meeting you, Brielle!" She grins over her shoulder to the woman, and almost runs right into the pair of pilots trying to step into the laundry room. "Gods, watch where you're going," she protests, even if she wasn't watching where she was going at all.