2236-11-23 - Dinner and a Show

Except there's no dinner. But there is a show.

Date: 2236-11-23

Location: Officer's Berthing, Deck 7, //Galactica//

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 891

Jump to End

Very rarely is there such a thing as silence in the berthings. Either someone is yanking the hatch open, slamming it shut, or tromping around in jackboots or something just as loud when you're just trying to get some damned sleep. So...it's one of those days, business as usual. To and fro, in a place where there is no such thing as day and night. Eva, for her part, is sitting at the central table, piles of different sorts of materials laid out around her, and she seems to be sketching out a pattern onto what looks to be something flame-resistant, the heavy duty things you see in galleys. She doesn't look up from her work, but she will occasionally move her materials around if someone grunts that they want more table space.

Eli's bunk is not too far from the communal table. He either drew the short straw in that regard, or someone doesn't like him very much. He's lying on his back in his off-duty sweats, book held aloft. Though the page hasn't turned very often in the last few minutes. He's either not getting into it, or there's something else on his mind.

In one of the above bunks/coffin is a lump of blankets. Two pillows have been belted together to moosh them over the occupants ears with the blanket tugged over that lump, creating quite a Frankenstein's monster looking lump. Complete with one limp arm hanging out over the edge and dangling down. Cassie's bunk mate has a bit of childish whimsy about them and at the moment her limp fingers are being being drawn upon. Tiny little faces and uniforms. At least the art is good and each finger bears a striking resemblance to the Big Brass of the ship. Hopefully none of them arrive for an inspection, cause they are being drawn on her right hand. That will be one awkward salute!

Whoever told young cadets that they'd get to be respected officers one day, with luxurious sleeping quarters was a cruel, cruel man...or woman. Probably an officer trying to haze said young cadets. Finn got over that notion a long, long time ago. From the run down quarters on the Aerilon ships he used to serve on, to the berthing he was assigned to on Galactica, Finn has no illusions about privacy.

Today, Finn is one of the many who slams the hatch behind him as he enters the berthing. He's wearing his flight suit, and has just finished pulling the top down so he doesn't die of heat exhaustion. Looks like he just got off patrol, and is on his way to get some rack time.

Eva is doing her best to be quiet, and mostly, except for the snip of scissors and the occasional tap of, yes, old fashioned thimbles on the table, she manages. Actually, that's a lot of tapping, sorry Eli, as she pauses in her work, fingers drumming on the tabletop as she considers her plan of attack. The sound of the hatch brings her fingers to a halt, as Finn ducks in, "Hey Farm Boy, you look like you've been through it. CAP that bad?" Of course, the change in her eye-line allows her to catch the prank being perpetrated on Cassie, "Tell me you put the CAG on her middle finger."

Eli reads another line over again, then gives up and tucks the book away in one of the pockets suspended inside his bunk. He throws his bare feet over the side and slides down with the practiced motion of someone who is used to these particular luxurious quarters. "You know..." he says to no one in particular. "I've never understood why these damned berthings are so small. I can only conclude that we're all crushed together in the name of 'colonial cooperation.'"

"Recon shift..." Finn reponds wearily. Which means he's been in a cockpit for more hours than anyone wants to count. To be fair to everyone, recon shifts are given to everyone here on BSG, instead of just the jackasses like they are on the Aerilon ships. "I swear, I was seeing tin cans break dancing on asteroids by the end there." He rubs at his eyes idly as he moves off towards his own bunk and finishes removing his flight suit. Fret not ladies, he is wearing standard issue under garments, no swooning necessary. As he finishes removing the flight suit, he slips a dinged up flask from a pouch near the head of his bed and unscrews the cap, taking a quick swig from it.

Eva looks over at Eli, as he comes up into a sitting position, "Well, best as I can figure, it's one of two things. Either, one, they want to save the space for things that actually matter, like weapons systems and the like, or two, they're hoping that by confining us into such deplorable conditions that we'll work harder and eventually be pushing paper. Hell, I know it's working for me. One more promotion and I get my own room. Well, at least, a room with only one bunk mate." A beat, "Although, I hear they give those out to couples too, especially if you're in the family way. Might be something to think about, Doctor." She looks back over to Finn, "They've been hell. Doesn't help that they've been keeping us on the edge for days." Viper pilots, as a rule, prefer to be actually doing things, rather than chomping at the bit. Out of long practice, she manages to speak to Finn without actually looking at him. Privacy and all, "If you need the extra rack time, I can pick up your watch shift."

Cassie's pillow strapped head seems to have a dual purpose, sound muffling and more importantly in this situation as she suddenly sits up as padding for the impact. The vibration of Finn's slamming through the metal walls and bunk added to the tickle of the pen on her finger was the awakening combo. The sudden tug left Bauer a scribbled mustache in the yoinking of his canvas. All evidence of the prank is quickly shoved under the bed and the artist pretends to be sleeping like a log. "Ow." Thanks to the pillows it really didn't hurt, it's just an automated response from Cassie. The blanket is pulled down and the weary nurse squints at the berthing. "What's going on?" Her voice is louder in that wearing headphones way.

"Not that I don't love seeing all of your faces, but it'd make sense if things were split by department. Or by shift. Things seem to be ordered by some mysterious logic." Eli rubs the side of his head and stifles a yawn. "Though I suppose it's a good life skill to sleep through bloody anything." He side-eyes the pranking but doesn't comment.

Likely due to a combination of exhaustion and having lived a life with no privacy for years, Finn doesn't seem to try and hide that he's changing. Plus he just pulls on some sweat pants and grabs his towel from the locker next to his bunk, tossing it on the mattress. Finn glances over to Eva, brow raised, "Seriously, Cherry?" He doesn't seem to hesitate beyond that, "Yeah, definitely." One might wonder how Finn managed to get a watch shift just four hours after a recon flight shift. Did he piss off the CAG lately?

"Yeah, of course. I don't mind. I'll talk to the LSO, she knows we're all running double speed." They're shipping more people out to Galactica, but the air wing is still working double and triple shifts to pick up the slack. "You go down there like you are now, next thing you know, you'll find the deckies threw your comatose body in a packing crate and shipped you down to supply. You heard what they did to Hotdog last week.' The deck does not play around when it comes to pranking. She offers, to Eli, "Trouble is, if they put us in by shifts, we'd constantly be playing musical bunks. Not many of the departments have set rotations. Besides, where would you be if you couldn't see my lovely face every morning?" A snicker, at the slightly muffled bong from the girl in the top bunk, "Aerilon Prime. But you missed it."

"It seems we're cursed with each others' presence," drawls Eli in response to Eva. "We're all cursed with each other. And I'm cursed to see your innards." He points at both the pilots. "I really don't want to see your innards, so don't get all cut up, OK? Doctor's orders."

Cassie tugs the pillows down and out of the belt that slides down around her neck like a necklace. "What? Aerisol Lime?" She itches her nose and gives herself an inky mustache. "What time is it?" She kicks her blankets down and has been in the military long enough by this point that being in her underoos doesn't cause much shyness. Within the confines of her bunk she twists and turns to get into uniform. The bleariness of her eyes wearing off comes in time when she pulls the belt off from around her neck and she spies the ink on her fingers. "Huh!?" She hops out of bunk into the light and holds up her hand to examine it in the light. When it turns out that she doesn't have some wasting disease like she momentarily feared she actually giggles. "Uncanny resemblance." She compliments wryly, still giggling as she gives the artist a light kick-poke with her barefoot.

A moment of consideration is given as Finn seems to mull that over. His brain is slower than usual at the moment. Foggy might be a good word. So is dull. "I dunno...sounds like a good nap, in a packing crate. Dark and warm..." he smiles faintly to himself and then sits down on his bed. The intention is for that to be a momentary thing, but he doesn't appear to have the wherewithal to get up a moment later. "But yeah, I heard. I don't prank them, maybe they won't prank me." Wishful thinking. Finn glances to Eli and grins at him, "I think we tend to get blown up more than cut up, Doc. I'll do my best."

"Aerilon Prime." Eva repeats, jerking a thumb in Finn's direction. Because well, reasons. "Is it? A curse, Doctor?" I mean, of course it is, this is Eva and Eli, but she at least asks her question with a straight face. "So is the CAG on your middle finger?" She's still not close enough to see all of the caricatures on Cassie's hand. A nod at Finn's words, "That is true. Unlike the Marines, we tend not to come back dragging bits and pieces of ourselves behind us."

Eli snap-points at Finn. "Don't do that either. No blowing up. Shrapnel is an utter bitch to remove and I don't have the patience for it." A beat, "To say nothing of reattaching things or treating decompression sickness. Trust me, you don't want to be seeing my pretty face when I'm on duty unless it's a physical. I cultivate a scary persona so people'll avoid getting hurt so they don't have to face me." That may or may not be true.

Cassie's voice is on the meek-ish side, as she backs up her fellow medical man, "There's actually a lot of 'cuts' treaded. We don't treat those who are blown up. Mostly only get the this button shattered and cut me. Or bonked my head and the helmet cut my forehead or chin or cheek." But then Eli is also snap-pointing Finn so she lets him defend himself. She bare-foots to the table and sits down by Eva. Each of her fingers are wiggled about and an imitation of each of the officers voices are used to either praise or belittle the craftiness of Cherry.

"I once gave myself a split lip when I was a little too hasty getting my helmet off. Took me a while to live that down." Catching on to Cassie's game, Eva lifts up various pieces in progress. Not too hard to parse. She's making pot holder and oven mitts out of upcycled packing materials from the ship's stores. Another benefit of no longer being on Scorpia. The stuff they would usually just dump off the ship is hanging around waiting for eventual disposal and can, on occasion, be procured. Eva reaches out, picking up one of her thimbles and popping it onto Bauer's dead. "It's a good look."

"Viper pilots don't get hurt." Finn states, with just a bit of a quarter asleep drawl. This is true. Viper pilots get dead. In space. "We just get more awesome." He adds one a few moments later. A glance to Cassie and he eyes her various fingers. Huh. Then he looks to Cherry. Then to Eli. Then he plops his head back on the mattress once more.

"Yes, we're in the business of patching up pilot boo boos," says Eli in agreement with Cassie. "And I will cluck my tongue mightily at you if you show up with an injury that isn't worth my time. A nurse might just eyeroll at you." This is said with a wry sense of humour rather than in bitter tones.

Cassie glances over at Eli with a 'should have expected that' sort of expression when the pilot they were trying to talk sense into, double downs with 'we're awesome'. Looking back to find a thimble plopped down onto her finger makes her laugh and laugh brightly. "Oh that is just the cutest." She holds her hand so it's just the finger puppets poking up above it. "CIC: The Musical" Cassie then proceeds to perform your typical commands heard in CIC from the depicted officers, just with a lyrical spin and a wiggle dance of each finger when they are singing. "Prepare for juUUUUmp!" "We're GoooOOoo for Juuuump siiiir." "Kill that fracking toasteeeer!" "Aerilon Prime dont's diiiiiiiiiie."

Eva grins, watching Cassie put on her impromptu show. She looks back at Eli, "See? Now if you were in a quieter berthing you'd miss good shows like this. And believe me, after a few months stuck with me, you're going to want a good show." As for Finn, she doesn't prod him too much. He hasn't pulled his curtains yet, but he seems on his way, "If it makes you feel better...depending on whether or not we go out with the Marines, you might be able to foist our injuries off on the combat medics. They're used to dealing people people who don't know how and when to ducks."

Apparently CIC: The Musical has caught Finn's attention and he shifts a bit, looking up from his attempted place of slumber to watch. "You don't see that e'ryday." He grins just a bit and nods to Eli, "She's right. A good show is hard to find. Not like the shows you get down in medical. All blood and guts. None of the gore up here. Just happy, happy, joy, joy." Somewhere in there is a point, he's sure of it. Actually, he's not and that lack of confidence slides across his features awkwardly as he furrows his brow and scratches at the side of his head.

Eli side-eyes Cassie and arches an eyebrow. "OK, I'm making you promise to never make a finger puppet of me. As spot on as your impersonations are." He reaches up into his bunk to pull out his toiletry kit. "Yeah, it's just a never ending summer camp around here. Not that I've ever been to camp." He checks the content of his toiletry bag. "All blood and guts, but it's quiet more often than not. Full of unconscious people." He gives a toothy grin, then rocks back a step. "I'm gonna go wash up."

Cassie's thumb was not drawn on... yet. With an impish little smile she takes up a bit of scrap and wraps it around her thumb, ala a medical mask. She then clears her throat to get it all low and deep and gravely. "Promise me!" "Promise me." "Summer Camp is amazing! That Nurse Cassie is great." "Pass me the clamps! All blood and guuuuuuts." She then 'bows' her thumb at Eli as he leaves waving good bye to him with a ear to ear smile. Then aside to Eva, "I'll make your bunk for a month if he comes back without a beard."

"Oh, you should not have said that." Shooting a grin at Cassie, Eva digs around in her pile of scraps, pulling out one that's about six by six and popping up from the table. She heads over to Cassie bunk, unceremoniously nudging her bunkmate, who might actually have been sleeping by now, awake. Leaning down, she whispers conspiratorially, handing over the scrap of fabric. "Well, to be fair, the happy, happy, joy, joy, really depends on whether or not I'm on duty. They do pay me to be pleasant, mostly." She glances over in Finn's direction, seeing his head poking out of his bunk, "Trouble with being a Captain, you can't throw a good tantrum anymore, am I right?"

"Two months if he gives himself a buzzcut."

"I'm too tired for tantrums." Finn replies with a half smirk and a scratch at his chin. "Remind me never to become important enough to be part of her finger puppet theater..." Finn mutters as his eyes waver between open and closed. "I'd hate to be drawn like a cornstalk." That's an odd thing to hate. Corn is delicious.

Cassie chuckles, "You know who are the worst patients, besides doctors?" She wiggles her puppet fingers to indicate those of higher rank. Shaking her head she is still smiling, "It's a wager." To Eva. "But I love his curls, so I hope not." The beard on the other hand...right off far as she's concerned. Then Finn is smiled to cheshire cat style. "Flight Deck: The Musical. Coming Soon..."

Eli narrows his eyes at Cassie. It's a bit comical in its over-exaggeration so he's probably not actually upset. "I think someone just volunteered for the early shift for the next month." Does he have any say over the duty roster? Will he actually follow through? Well, the nurse will find out the next she sees her schedule. He just sighs and turns to go before he hears any of the other comments about his personal grooming habits.

Probably for the best.

"You're telling me you don't want to be immortalized in song, Farm Boy? I feel as though that might be the best part of this duty assignment." Eva ducks back into the bunk, retrieving the scrap of fabric and heading back to the table. She turns it to show to Cassie. It's a perfect little caricature of Eli. She sets it down on the table to block it out and cut it for sewing. Nodding in agreement to Cassie's assessment of the good doctor, she answers, "I could suggest a few uses, but he already dislikes me as it is."

"Seems to me, a song about me is only gonna make fun of me. Plenty of pilots and deckhands already willing to do that without setting it to music. Or rhyming." Finn offers in perhaps his most lucid moment. Maybe he's gotten a second wind as his eyes are more open than they were a moment ago. Maybe it was all the talk of beards. A beat pause and he adds, "I think he dislikes everyone."

Cassie smiles ever so sweetly at her superior and gives her shoulders a little 'do whatcha gotta do' shrug. "You know how I get when I'm sleepy. Can't yell for any future lap dances is all." The smile goes down right cherubic and angelic after Eli as he swings the door closed. "I'm sure he likes you. He's just got to keep compartmentalized. The good doctors that are really good people deep in tend to be that way. But I didn't say that." She zips her lips and throws away the imaginary key. "Oh that's fantastic!" She squees as she picks up the caricature. "We can make it into a med cap! So people can see who's under the mask. I'm sure he'll wear it every day!" Sarcasm is strong in that last bit. A long hmmm comes afterwards and she taps her chin eyeing Finn.

Eva grows serious, as she looks over at her fellow pilot, "Why? Because you're from Aerilon? Believe me, there are a LOT of worse places to be from. Especially now." What with Aerilon seeming almost idyllic, wit its lack of Cylon presence and destruction. "And I haven't seen anything from you to warrant that sort of attitude. You're a damned fine pilot and a better shot than I am." She shakes her head, "Too many people on this boat still talking shit about each other and to each other. Just point me at them if they start to give you trouble. Trust and believe, when I say Virgon will not want to take me back. I'll probably end my twenty in the CF." A shake of her head to Cassie, "See, the trouble with 'compartmentalizing' is that the rest of us just think you're an asshat."

Finn likely wasn't expecting Eva to say all of that, because he seems fairly caught off guard, watching her for a few moments. He's definitely awake now, for better or worse. She has a fair point. Aerilon, which may have had a bad wrap for decades, is relatively unscathed. "I appreciate it...Seriously." A beat pause and he adds on, "I mean...I figured the fine nurse here would call me Captain Fancy Pants or something dumb like that." Call sign number three?

Cassie gives Finn one more eyeball ooggling, "More like Captain No Pants." She did just watch him get ready for bed after all, "It wouldn't be happy happy fun fun either if I got mean." She then wiggles her fingers before gesturing to herself. "Do I strike you as the mean girl type? For example. Butthead over there," Her Ryan finger points at her artistic bunkmate, "still has all of his dangly bits for doing this." Again she pointedly wiggles all the Brass Finger Puppets. "So let's see, Aerilon, no corn references, pilot..." She gestures for him to give her more information to better throw together a silly fun song for him.

"To be fair, it is a good show whenever you drop trou, Farm Boy." Look, man, they practically sleep one on top of the other. People see things. "You're welcome. But I'm just being honest. Sometimes you just have to put your foot down. And sometimes that foot ends up in someone's balls. I have no problem with that." A Hibernian not afraid of scrapping. What a surprise. "Well, to be fair, Cas, we are all sitting here staring at you. Once we all leave or look away, who knows what will actually be left of him." Eva offers as fodder for the song, "Breakdancing Cylons."

Captain No Pants. Shit. Hers is better. Definitely better. A shrug is given by Finn as he stretches and sits up. A yawn comes with that motion, but he seems fairly awake now. This is at least amusing. "Ummm...I box a little?" Yeah, that's what she needs. And then there's Eva's comments. His cheeks redden just a touch, but at least he doesn't get defensive. "I just like to keep things five by five, Cherry." No drama, right? "But if you want to put your foot in someone's balls, I can help." A beat pause and he considers her statement. Schroedinger's Finn. If no one is there to see him, is he even there anymore? Mystery. "I turn into a scrawny little CIC operations geek." he offers helpfully.

Cassie bounces a little bit in time with the song she is making up on the fly. "There was a farm boy from Aerilon, and boxing was a turn-on. He hated corn and where he was born. But dang them fly boys are awesome!" To the tune of pop goes the weasel.

"More than I can do. I can handle myself if I had to, but I have no skill at all with that sort of thing. A fact of which I am reminded every time someone needs an extra person on a pyramid team." A grin, at Finn's comment about his bodily upkeep, "I know you do." Fullblown laughter as she waves a hand in Finn's direction. Eva's just talking shit, a skill at which most pilots excel. She looks back down, going back to sewing her little finger puppet, "That could come in handy. Always a good disguise." Nobody pays attention to the pencil pushers. A snort, as Cassie puts together her Finn-ditty. "A classic. Instant."

A boisterous laugh is let loose by Finn at Cassie's song. And the fact that she bounces to it. Priceless. "Definitely don't change anything about it." He chuckles some more and glances to Eva, smirking at her, "Not all of us can look this good when the ladies aren't paying attention. It's hard work to puff out my chest all the time." He lets out a long breath by way of example and then slopes his shoulders foward to make his chest look concave. A moment later he gives up that posture and stands up from his bed, leaning against the top bunk, "If you want a few pointers on how to kick someone in the balls more effectively, I'm willing to help. I'll owe you after the watch shift."

With CIC: The Musical having died down it's time to wash off the finger puppets. Thankfully she has some alcohol wipes on hand in her bunk and she uses them to clean up the hand. Once again giving her bunkmate a gentle little booting to the backside. "Do you know on Picon, there are guys that get things implanted under the skin so they look buff without even flexing? There was this one actor, that was usually cast as the romantic lead, but then he decided he wanted to be some action guy. Ended up in one of my cots with several of them all burst because of fight scenes." She gives a little yucky shiver at that memory. "If you want Cap'n No Pants, I can make a referral for you. No puffing needed after that." She winks a Finn and then looks between the pilots. "Ooo, Pilot Gossip! What happened after watch shift?"

Eva finishes up her little finger-puppet, setting it aside to be passed off to Cassie once she's finished wiping off her fingers, "Also, check the mirror. You've got a bit of an ink mustache." That might earn the bunkmate an extra kick, but let's be fair. Nobody wants to see the nurse with facial hair. "That sounds a bit short-sighted. I mean, I can see women doing it, larger breasts and all that, but most of them tend not to sustain much bodily damage." She shakes her head, wagging a finger in the nurse's direction, "No idea, yet. I'm taking Finn's watch so he can get extra rack time." She looks over at the pilot in question, "I might take you up on the boxing though. I have a feeling it might come in handy once the Doctor sees his puppet."

"Think I'll pass on the implants. I could just keep doing nothing and stay this good looking and fit all the same." Finn offers up helpfully. At least he seems to be more himself than he was during his fit of exhaustion that has passed into the lost memories of sleep deprivation. He will regret not having passed out earlier. "Apparently now something has to happen after the watch shift to create some extra gossip, Cherry. I'll let you work out the plan for that while I go grab a shower, and then get that rack time I was promised." By who exactly, no one knows. A beat pause and he nods to her, "And yeah, I'll show you how to box whenever you want, no charge." He offers a quick grin and then he snatches up the towel he'd pulled out earlier and starts towards the exit once more.

Cassie blinks at being told she has a mustache. "Wut! How long has that been there?" She squints at everyone she's interacted with since she woke up. Then pokes her tongue out at them. Another wipe is pulled from the package and gives her face a good scrubbing. Then after a brisk intake of breath she fans and pats her face. "Refreshing!" She meeps out as she endures the burn with a smile. "Please, no boxing the Doctor's bits. I need him whole and in as good a mood as he can be. Then she swings more into Nurse mode and points to Finn and to the bed. "Well then get some sleep silly. Nurses orders."

Eva lifts her shoulders in a light shrug, not quite managing to look innocent, "Ever since you took the pillows you had tied to your head off." She picks back up the mitt she was working in, looking in the direction of the head where both men have now escaped to, "As a point of fact, I don't want to box the Doctor's bits. First, because it would be hell on my back" all the bending over, you see, "And second, because this whole operation might go tits up, and we might need them before the end." A tilt of her head, "Although, I wasn't aware that a Doctor, strictly speaking, needed those parts to do his job." Another snort of laughter, "Want to keep this puppet, or should I really sew it onto a stocking cap?" She doesn't really know what the cap doctor's wear is actually called, but you get the idea.

Cassie pouts at Eva, "I'll remember that next time you ask for some more TP in the Head!" Another poke out of her tongue before she reaches out her hands in a rather childish 'gimme!' manner for the puppet. "Or you can keep it. Put it in your cockpit someplace safe, like a good luck charm. Cause there's nothing like that face to make a person safe if only to avoid it in the med bay. Yeah?" The image planted in her brain of Eva bent over to punch at Eli's bits like a boxers bag just makes her facepalm to muffle the cackley-giggle. "Ack, that's the time?" Her bunk mate shifts enough that his clock is made visible. Cassie hops up half dangling into her bunk so she can reach deep and grab some things. "Need to run. Gotta tuck in the sickies." She blows everyone kisses as she hurries out playfully like some diva bidding her adoring fans a final farewell after 12 curtain calls. "Be safe. Don't want to see any of you in the Med Bay."

"I'm not saying it was a bad look on you, Cas. If it hadn't been so crooked, it might have looked very distinguished." A thoughtful expression, as she considers the puppet, "I'll think about it. It could do with a bit of brightening up. It's good thinking." Seems she's the only one without plans for a while, and she's happy to stay at the table as even Cassie files out, "I'll do my best. Good shift, Cas."


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