2236-12-08 - Under My Skin, Pt. 1

Eva tracks down Jacob, in the hopes of securing his services.

Date: 2236-12-08

Location: Gym, Deck 8, //Galactica//

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 912

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Eva, dressed in her offduty togs, enters into the last place she would normally choose to be. She is, however, at this precise moment, a woman on a mission, and she winds her way through the gym, studiously avoiding the machine, the workout mats, even the drink station, so you know she's serious. Now, she does need to stop now and then and find someone who vaguely looks like a marine to point her in the right direction, and she finally arrives not far from where Jacob is in the middle of his workout.

Jacob gives out a grunt of exertion, as the other man counts off the last couple of numbers in the reps. There's at least 250 pounds on that bar, maybe more but being a boxer, this isn't really all that much of a shock. And it's not like some of the other marines can't bench the same amount of weight. With a last hard push upward, the other man helps put the bar on the rack, and the Sergeant sits up, reaching for his towel. That's around the point where he figures that it looks like Eva is watching him. For something reason. "Something I can help you with?"

Eva is polite enough to wait until the man is actually finished with his rep. Even she knows it usually ends badly when you distract someone in mid lift. "That depends on whether or not you happen to be Sergeant Jacob Marx." Eva's voice is friendly, slightly inquiring, her accent Hibernian, but not that deep brogue someone fresh off the moon would have. Rather, it's the sort of modulation that comes with long years away from home. "I'm looking to get some ink done, and I was told you might be the man I want." She offers a hand, "Eva Thorne, Wolfpack."

There's at least one Hibernian style tattoo on him. A Celtan love knot on the inside of his left forearm. The others, at least the ones visible look more like things one might see if they lived in an inner city somewhere. "Yeah, that's me." His accent is slightly Hibernian but nearly as thick as others, but it's there. "I do inking, though I haven't been asked in awhile. Not since I got on this ship." His grins gets a little wider. Ah, an officer. "Lemme guess." he ponders a moment aloud, sizing the woman up. "Stick-jockey, so I'm gonna go ahead and say some kind of squad logo, eh?"

Her smile brightens at the sound of your voice, her next words in Celtan, "We're a hell of a long way from home, eh, Marine?" Eva doesn't seem to be in the least offended by being called a stick-jockey. Hey, when the shoe fits. "Well, yes, actually. I mean, when the CAG suggests that it might be a good idea, and you're sort of working to keep the team spirit alive, you know how that is." She pauses, "Well, no, actually, I don't, as I don't have any, but if ever there were a time to get one it'd be now."

Was not expecting her to talk in Celtan. His a bit rough, but he speaks enough of it to get the point across. "Aye, that we are." he agrees, looking maybe a little amused by the fact that she's speaking in the language he hasn't heard in awhile. "Sorry, my Celtan isn't all that good. It wasn't really spoken a lot in New Castor." One of the larger metropolises on Hibernia. Known for a heavy portion who people live in the 'projects' or 'inner city'. Considering his tattoos, that might make a little bit of sense. "Well, shit. Be it far form me to go an piss off the CAG. That's what you're looking for, think I can supply it for you. Where you looking to get it? Cause, warn you right now, it'll either hurt less or more depending on where. Not gonna lie to you, getting inked isn't always comfortable."

Eva shakes her head, a hand rising to wave away his apology, "Honestly, it's fine. It's only in the town and small villages anymore that people speak it. I'm from Arete Meinn." The name translates literally to something like, the mine in the mountain ridge between two glacier cut valleys. Most of the mining towns that grew up around the mines for the workers and their families don't have names of their own. They simply take the name of the tyllium mine they come from. "Most of the people there still speak celtan." Nice way to communicate without your virgon overlords eavesdropping, "If you're interested in improving, I'd be happy to speak with you." Once Jacob questions the location, she takes her time considering, "I hadn't really thought about it to be honest, I suppose somewhere where it could be seen. On a shoulder or something. Just not anywhere near my breasts. It would be a butterfly today, but in thirty more years, it'd be a condor.

"Yeah, Cate speaks it better than I do." Jacob notes. "Er, Cate Rhodes. Combat medic, dunno if you've met her. She's Hibernian too. In Castor, you kinda had other things to contend with. And they never really taught it as a language in school. I've just picked enough from friends and others to get by with speaking it, but I wouldn't call it good or anything." Mining communities, seems like he's heard plenty about that in the past. "Maybe eventually, I'd like to get better at it. I guess I...huh, I never really thought about it." But, he pauses to wipe the bench he using down. "Well, I can suggest a few spots. Anywhere on the shoulder is good. Back, the side, or in front. You can actually get a tattoo on your breast with out it, y'know, stretching out. Get it right over your heart, that skin isn't prone to stretching as others spots might be. Some women get stuff on their calves. Or on their hip. But the classic spot is upper arm." There's no military tattoos on his arms. They're covered in other ones that looks a little old.

"I'm sure I've heard someone shouting that name a time or two as we've been gearing up for missions. I'm a viper pilot, so I never have the chance to ride with the Marines. I just get to see them loading into the raptors. Knock on wood." Because things are usually quite bad, if a viper pilot needs a combat medic. "Up to you. Sometimes, it can be nice to have something for yourself. Having a language you can share with only a few people, can give you a feeling of privacy that these sorts of living quarters just don't offer." Eva falls silent, listening attentively to Jacob's options, weighing her choices, "I think probably the upper arm. I can't afford to take time off to heal, so anything on my back is out, and I suppose this is the sort of tattoo you want people to see, so nothing below the waist. The shoulder I can handle even if I have to fly. But here's the important question. What's your price?"

"Possible. She's had to run around a couple of times, yeah." Jacob nods a certain degree. "Prevent people from bleeding out an shit." The whole thing about languages has given him a bit to consider. "You should meet up with me an Cate sometime when you're not off doing pilot stuff. Don't know many other Hibernians around here." But getting back to the whole thing about tattoos. "I can do that arm, no problem. And just so you know, it's not gonna lay you up or anything. Be a little sore, sure, but it should impede on your flying an whatnot. As from a price? I can cover the needles an ink, but paying for my time is gonna be a bottle of whiskey. You get me that and we got a deal. Oh, and get me a copy of the image and few days to trace it out, make sure I got the right colors."

"Sometimes, that's the best we can hope for." Poor, poor Jigger. "They already have my thanks. Saved one of our pilots. Rabbit." A nod of Eva's head, as she accepts the invitation, "I'd like that. Sometimes...all this togetherness with the rest of the colonies can get to you." A hand rises, tapping at her lower lip, "The booze I can do. We always have a few bottles on hand to celebrate milestones." Because pilots. "I'm glad to hear that. Kallas would have my ass if I told him I couldn't do a rotation on the line." She steps forward, offering her hand, "I can get you what you need. Shall we meet up again, lets say in two days time? That should be long enough for me to get the pattern and your payment together."

"She does a good job." Jacob nods about Cate saving Rabbit. "And hey, no sweat. You ever want to just shoot the shit, you let me know. I don't do much else beyond spending time here, harassing Cate, and making stupid character sheets for a game I can't play. So it'd be nice to add a third person to the group." Hibernians should stick together an all. Or at least he seems to think so. "Sounds good. Two days, I'll make sure I get my shit set up an ready to go. Come by my bunk in the barracks, should have enough room in there to do it. Though you might get some people to watch."

"I'll take you up on that. And don't be afraid of coming up to officer country. Always nice to have company. If anyone gives you trouble, rabbit punch them in the face ans tell them I told you to do it." Eva offers q quick grin, "If I'm not there or on shift, you can usually find me in the galley, hanging out with Cookie." She says that the same way she might say a proper name or a callsign. "After almost 20 years in service, I don't think there's anything on me someone hasn't seen at some point." Eva offers a nod, "I'm due back on the deck. I'll see you after a while, Sergeant."


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