A little bit of a lesson and a little bit of history when Oliver and Eva meet up in the Gym.
Location: Gym, Deck 8, //Galactica//
Related Scenes: None
Scene Number: 890
For once, it's actually rather quiet in the Gym, and Eva seems to be taking advantage of that, as she's sitting cross-legged on top of a pile of floor mats. While she is dressed in her offduty togs, she does not actually seem to be working out at all. No sweat, or heavy breathing, even her hair is in a perfect braid. Mostly she's just sitting on what is probably one of the only mildly comfortable places on the ship where one can sit.
Oliver comes in in his off-duty sweats and paired tanks. He's got a towel around his neck and is holding one dangling from his hand. Seems he has plans for lots of sweat. Once he spots Eva he tosses the towel in his hand over at her. "Think fast!"
She may not be the most athletic person, but she's got a good eye for what's going on around her, and her head snaps around at the call, and she snags the towel incoming, "That wasn't very nice, Cookie." A frowns, as she gives the man a once over, "Let me guess. This is what you do when you want to relax."
Oliver looks down at himself, then back up at her and very dryly and sarcastically. "Nope. Hate exercise, loath it, least favorite thing to do." He looks over the rim of his glasses with his head tilted down and winks at her then he dawwws. "Sorry Squee. Just teasing, seeing how your reactions are. Put a lesson plan together for you. Now, let's see if you remember what I taught you..." He extends his hand to her like he wants to shake, "I'm really sorry, truce?"
"So you're just naturally built like a demigod. I've got ya." Eva unfolds her legs, sliding off of the pile of mats, a hand tossing the towel over her shoulder as she approaches. In height they really aren't that different, only a good two inches or so, but Oliver's sheer mass dwarfs her. "It wasn't really so much self-defense I was looking for, more someone to pound their fist into somebody's face." Still, she reaches out to accept the hand, but instead of shaking, she tries to get right at the cuticle. It doesn't work of course, and neither does twisting your arm around, but hey! At least she remembered the basic order of operations.
Oliver looks a little surprised by the compliment, is he blushing?!? His free hand rubs at his face to hide any evidence that he is. Then she's making her vain attempt and he just stares and stands there holding her at bay. "Why get someone else to do it for you?" His thumb comes up and over hers, he presses down but stops just shy of being really painful and then he starts to twist. It's slow and careful, something to teach her how to do these things then actually doing them. "They still giving you trouble?"
If Eva notices the blushing, she makes no mention of it, focusing, instead, entirely on what she's trying to do, even if it does fail miserably. Once Oliver moves in to demonstrate the move on her, she keeps herself loose. It makes it easier both for Oliver to demonstrate, and for her to get a feel for what she's supposed to be doing. She looks back at him, in the opposite direction to which he's twisting her arm, "You ever meet someone that just makes you want to stomp their face on general principles? It's like that."
Oliver chuckles, and goes loose so she can have another turn at practicing on him. "Did you happen to know Dannon Creery?" A Mooner that fancied himself a big rebel leader in one of the smaller back water towns on Hibernia. A point of fact, it's a bit of a legend that Creery got his arm snapped in six places in a huge battle. Eventually he lost it. "It's like that." He repeats and nods with great understanding.
"Not a very good example, Oliver. His rebellion failed. Sort of became a sort of cautionary tale, at least where I come from. Someone will start talking, knowing they can't possibly fulfill their promises and the next thing you know they'll say, "There goes another Creery." Eva doesn't sound particularly het up about the subject. To be honest, she just sounds tired. "But people are always going to want to be free. So more and more Creery's pop up every day." She moves slowly, carefully through the motions. She's not a complete failure. She pays attention and has a good memory, so she'll get there eventually.
Oliver chuckles, "I more meant that he is my face stomper. You know his arm?" Pointedly he shows her the move again with his expression more, 'get the hint'? This move with enough muscle, anger and force could break a guy's arm in six places. "It was after one of the many peace talks. Creery wasn't feeling too peaceful, we were at a pub, he started a brawl and then he pulled out a knife and went for my CO... never hurt a man outside of Duty like that before. Haven't done it again either..."
"But that was because he was doing what fools do. I mean, you just can't fix stupid. How would you have felt about him if he had never done that to you or your CO? Would you have even cared about him, other than the fact that you probably disliked him simply for being a separatist." She runs through the demonstration once again, and then switches places with you, her second attempt better than the first. While she doesn't have your physical prowess, she's got good reflexes and she tries to anticipate you attempts to escape.
Oliver ahs and nods as if he understands. "This is someone that you like despite yourself then. Maybe I should be teaching you how to grab someone up for a good snog." He waggles his eyebrows at her, his whole demeanor rather like a brother teasing a sister when he finds out she LIiiiiIIiiiikes someone. But he's still got his mind on helping her with the maneuver and he nods when she improves. "Good! Just twist a bit more like this and when you take steps put this leg behind my leg here." He points with his free hand and bends over to manhandle her gently into place. "It won't work on a cylon...or me... but any flesh and bone limb will buckle if you give enough pressure here."
"I've had quite a few Virgons think they could teach me how to snog. When I went to flight school, I was the only Mooner in the grade. It was sort of the running joke. 'See who can get a piece of the mooner's ass first.' Eva, as she goes through the motions with you is making quite a bit of improvement. Her words are not clipped, but showing distinctly more accent than usual, usually a good indicator of her emotional state, "It got worse on my first tour once I was on a ship and I couldn't get away." She actually seems to be putting some effort into the move this time, taking your advice about a good vulnerable spot on the leg to heart. And it's not even you she's angry with, that's pretty apparent. It's just an unconscious response usually better controlled. She won't hurt you of course. She knows better, "They made it a point to let everybody know what they thought of me." She stops, still holding Oliver in her not so deathly, death grip, "I've been Cherry ever since.".
Oliver tries to get his hand free that's in hers enough to take it in a more proper shake/friendly grip. But he finds that she's got the wrist lock down really well and he looks even more proud as he uses his free hand instead to cover over their gripped hands. "Frack that, you're Squirrel." He gives her a look right dead in the eye. "That shouldn't have ever happened to you, and it won't ever happen again." Sounds like her desire to have a knee breaker is found in him. "Alright? This ship is going to be different. It's us versus them now." He clanks his heel against the metal of his cylon leg to indicate who the 'them' is in his statement. "Right?"
Eva, as she feels Oliver's other hand cover the one she's using to hold him in place, she loosens her grip. Suddenly conscious of the fact that she was being more aggressive than she should have been, she offers a, "I'm sorry," the apology matched by her expression, as if she thought that she might have actually been able to hurt him, "I'm Squirrel to you." And maybe thats enough. "Anyway, I'm too old for that sort of thing now." Except that when it's about bigotry and punishment, you never are, but positive thoughts, people! "Right. Except when we can no longer give into the urge to punch the occasional person in the face." Still trying to defuse things with humour.
Oliver chuckles and stands upright letting their hands part. "You are, you could be to plenty of others. Especially if people hear why you are called Cherry. If they still do it, then they will mark themselves as the people that will be fed only cherries for a whole week. You get what I'm saying? I did plenty of stuff before Galactica that I'm not going to let affect my service here. I'll scrub the callsign off your bird myself if I have to."
Eva steps back, a hand reaching up to pull down your towel and flip it over to her other shoulder, "That's not a story I like to spread around. And you know how it is in the Navy, on Virgon, it's just life. It's how the majority of you all think of us, what you think of us. Isn't that why so many of the empire's colonies have tried to be free? So I just learned to live with it. My Da needed me to stay in, so I did. Now I'm old enough and I have enough experience that I can defend myself in a way I couldn't when I was still barely out of puberty." She reaches out, patting your arm, "But I appreciate the sentiment, Cookie. Don't worry about the callsign. Most people who don't know me assume it's about the hair," she tugs at her brilliantly red hair, "So I let them think what they want. Besides, I think we need to have things to remind us of what we're fighting for." She pauses, for a moment, "Speaking of which...that doesn't just, you know, pop off, does it, by any chance?" She dips her head to indicate the leg.
Oliver gives a silent but breathy chuckle when she brings it all around and onto his own big reminder of why he's here. "It does. Not like the typical ones. But it can be removed. Easier for maintenance and when I just have had my fill of all of the noise. It's a bit of a process though, so I keep in on mostly." He's in sweat shorts but he goes to fold up the right side a few times more to reveal where there's finally some flesh. There is even some metal bits that go up higher into the shorts but he'd have to drop trow to show off the entire workings. "Few twists and button pushing and these bits pop open. On the outside of my leg there are ... discs. Those don't come off. All the stuff above here is rigged up and fortified at the hip, so that I can move about as easily as I can."
Eva is happy to set aside talk of the past for a little while at least, turning her attention to the cylon prosthetic. She takes a knee, carefully tracing the line of demarcation where the surgeon, who must have been quite skilled, despite the "meatball" nature of battlefield medicine, to have fitted the tech to Oliver's human body so well. "We never had this level of sophisticated mechanics to work with in school, and it was a bit difficult to get parts, even before the uprising to keep up on trends in cylon engineering. For fear of the tech being stolen and reverse engineered, was the scuttlebutt. It's not as if this can be easily replaced, but I've been thinking I'd be very interested in studying their parts and systems. They seem to be advancing at a prodigious rate, if the new ships and the like they've been rolling out against us are any indication. Might be worth studying how they're evolving their technology." She comes back to her feet, "I wonder who I'd have to speak to, to request that some parts be brought back for analysis."
Oliver gives his big shoulders a little shrug, "Wish I could say. Maybe the head of the engineers? They'd probably know if the Brass would okay tinker time." He rolls down his shorts again and offers down a hand to help her up. "Yeah, don't think I don't know I'm already probably the laughing stock of cylons and humans both. Humans cause I have it and Cylons because well, it's like someone riding a horse drawn carriage around in Caprica... I'm the old model."
Eva shakes her head, as she settles back onto her feet, "I'll ask around and see what I can come up with. I'll check and see if the Chief Engineer is onboard yet." Sadly, they're still at half staffed, so it's hard to figure out who to talk to for the things you need, "I don't think you're a laughing stock at all, Oliver. If I'm being honest, I think it's probably quite the opposite. I would imagine you would put most humans on edge. Especially those who don't exactly understand how the cylon's tech works. As for the Cylons, who knows what they would think. There are so many rumors floating around, about the Cylons possibly experimenting on humans trying to graft robotic parts onto human bodies. If those rumors are true, you might be more interesting to them than you might be comfortable with."
Oliver frowns gravely at that thought and he rubs at his face with one hand and towel after removing his glasses. "Fantastic!" He says with false excitement. "Who knows, maybe I was brain washed and it was a Cylon that did this to me, instead of the doctor who is very lucky I'm on this ship." A whole new level of bitter anger at the person that did this to him has just been added, that much is clear. But much like Eva does, he uses humor as a shield. "So, you have any plans? Or just come here for the cozy seats?"
Eva step forward, lifting a hand to touch Oliver's face, unless he pulls away, to try to hold his head and keep him from looking away, "Stop that." She's even using her Big Girl Voice, "What happened to you, Oliver, was terrible, and terrible choices were made, but you're not to blame for how people react to you. If they don't want to look past it and get to know you, then that's on them. And maybe the doctor who did this to you didn't make the right choice, but the choice he made means that you're here. You're alive, and you're still fighting. And if the Cylons want you, they'll have to go through me first." She'll let him take the out though, moving to step back and look back at the mats, "No plans, and I do mostly come here for the comfortable seats. Oh, what I wouldn't give for a nice sofa or a bean bag chair."
Oliver looks more surprised by the fond gesture, so stunned that if he wanted to pull away, he doesn't. It's clear by the press of his lips that he's trying not to grin and tease her for how adorable she gets when she tries using that tone on him. "Thank you." It comes out rather amused and genuinely grateful. "I'm not fighting though, I'm just feeding the fighters. But I do get what you mean. Far as a comfortable place. You gotten a berthing yet? I've got a hammock in the galley. Wondering how long it takes for Brass to notice."
Eva traipses back to the mats, climbing back onto them. She's not a small woman, but this is a gym meant for military types who usually like working out...so it's a lot of mats, "Not everyone who fights is out there shooting a gun or firing a missile. Sometimes the most important fighters are the ones who stay behind and support the people on the front lines. We're all in this war together. No one person's contribution means more than any one else's." She nods, "Yeah, got a top bunk in officer country. I mean, it could be worse, it could be three to a bunk like the enlisted, but it's still sleeping in a coffin." She sighs, at the revelation of your sleeping arrangements, "Lucky duck." But more seriously, "I don't think they'd care if you stayed there, to be honest, long as you at least knew where you were supposed to be when they decide to do inspections. I think I heard one of the techs actually sleeps on a cot in engineering."
Oliver looks rather amused as he watches her crawl up to sit on the mats again, "That's plenty of exercise alone right there." He thumbs over to the leg press. "It's leg day. Then I should probably get back to my galley. You just going to watch from on high or get down here in the grit Fly Girl?"
Eva twists herself around, ending up on her stomach, her chin propped up on her hands. She settles in as comfortable as the location allows, her body turned so that she can watch you in your workout, "Oh, I think I'll just watch from on high for a little while."