2237-04-19 - Dance Lessons

Beckham comes across Cate while getting ready for the celebration on Scorpia - and he does some minor arm twisting.

Date: 2237-04-19

Location: Enlisted Berthings - Battlestar Galactica

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 983

Jump to End

Morning in the barracks. Shift change has people coming and going, though it's thinned out now that most of the morning shift people have headed out for breakfast and/or to their posts. Cate is lagging behind for whatever reason, standing at her locker and buttoning up her fatigue jacket. One of the other marines - Barkley - closes his locker nearby. "Hey Rhodes - heard you went shopping with the girls. Hope you picked out something nice and slinky for the ball." He cackles when she gives him a sidelong glare and starts to move off, raising his hands in a 'don't hit me' sort of gesture. "Yeah don't hold your breath," she calls after the fleeing PFC.

Capes. Gods damned capes. Having made a trip planet side to get his uniform dry cleaned and pressed, Beckham barely moves out of the way as the PFC brushes by him, the plastic bag covering the dress uniform rustling slightly in the wind in his aftermath. "Do you know they charge extra to press a cape, Cate?" he asks her as he heads over to his nearby berth to hang up the uniform and opens the built in footlocker to get out his boots and polishing kit. "So what am I not holding my breath for?"

Cate looks over when she hears Beckham's voice, and her eyebrows go up. "You guys have a cape? Man, I don't know whether to be jealous or sorry for you." She chuckles softly then says, "Seeing me in a slinky dress. Because I'm sure that was so high on your list." A wry smirk there.

"Just because I'm married doesn't mean I can't appreciate." Beckham casts a wink over at Cate as he starts to rub the wax into his boots to work them into a shine. "And.. you never heard the story, did you?" he asks, looking thoughtful for a moment. "A few years back at one of these things, there was this Caprican pilot - he wanted to impress his date, and took her down to the flight line to see his Viper. A maintenance crew was running maintenance on a Raptor, and they weren't expecting anyone around, so they cycled the engines - poor guy was decapitated when the cape got -- shlurped right into the intakes." he says solemnly as he works in the wax. "So, does that mean there's a chance I won't get to see you in a slinky dress?"

Cate offers an almost shy smile at the first remark, finishing the last button and checking her hair in the little mirror mounted on the inside of the locker. Underneath the locker are two photos - one of a pair of young men hamming it up for a goofy selfie on a beach somewhere, the other of two pre-teen girls smiling and holding a cat. "Are you serious?" she gawks at the story about the pilot. "Gods, that's horrible. And no - fancy balls and slinky dresses aren't really my thing."

"Totally serious." of course, with Beckham, it's totally hard to tell whether or not he's being serious when it comes to these things. But that's part of his charm. Of course, there's his own pictures, but the one that Cate would recognize easily is what looks like a pair of teens on a beach, dressed in what can be called 'wedding casual'. Beckham in a suit, no jacket. And Tamlin in a white sundress.

"So, what, going to put on your stuffy redcoat, show up for the ceremony and then bail? Did you even bother to check if someone wants to fill your dance card?" comes the curious question from the former high society member. "You'd be the first girl I know that doesn't immediately ditch the dress uniform for a dance dress."

Cate squints at him, trying (and failing) to gauge his sincerity on the whole cape thing. She snorts at the comment about dancing. "I'm sure you had to learn all those fancy waltzes and stuff, huh? Some kind of twisted high society right of passage? Also don't remind me I have to wear that damn red coat." She makes a face. "Maybe I'll be the first girl you know that immediately ditches the dress uniform for sweats. I wonder how much trouble I'd get in if I just wore this to the ceremony." She gestures to her duty fatigues with a snicker. "Nobody'd notice right?"

"Collins would notice." Beckham points out, dead serious on that front. "And you're already under that craw enough, aren't you?" However, at the mention of dancing, he laughs. "I haven't done any dancing like that in a long time. I'm looking forward to it -- wait.. wait." he looks up suddenly from where he was taking out an old strip of t-shirt to polish down the boot. "Do you know how to dance? And I don't mean having a full body seizure to the latest pop hit."

"I think even Lieutenant Hale would notice that one," Cate is forced to grudgingly admit. And as he's their direct supervisor, his opinion matters a little more than her sickbay nemesis. There's an awkward look when he asks if she can dance, and she gives a tiny headshake. Turning, she looks at his locker and notices the picture there. "Is that you and Dorn when you got married?" Emergency topic change!

Glancing aside to the picture on the mirror, Beckham grins. "Yeah." he says, reaching to pluck it to pass it over. Of course, Beckham was more skinny beanpole - he had yet to add the bulk she knows now, and even Tamlin carried that etheral look of a high society girl. This distraction also gives him a chance to set aside his polishing kit and dust himself off as he rises to his feet in his shorts and double tanks. "Alright. Come here, you. I'm not as good as Tamlin, but I can walk you through a step or two."

Cate studies the picture when she hands it over. "Gods look at you - don't they feed rich kids on Caprica? That's a cute picture though. You guys really were young." She hands the picture back then blinks when he tells her to come over. "Wait - what?" His statement was clear enough, she's just surprised.

"Those pictures of your family?" he asks, gesturing to them before he grins and Beckham sets his hands on hips. "If I'm going to this, you're going. Us medics have to make a good showing, after all." There's a tease in his voice as he offers his hand after setting aside the picture. "And as I don't want Hale to have any reason to be all grumpy, or Collins a reason to gloat, I'm going to show you a basic two-step waltz. So when you inevitably get asked to dance, you know how."

Cate is distracted momentarily by the question. "Sort of. The girls are my cousin's kids - they adopted my cat. And the guys are friends I knew on Picon." The sad look that flashes in her eyes does not suggest a happy ending there. But then she's back to looking at him skeptically. With a touch of reluctance, she steps forward and takes the offered hand. "I'm going to look like an idiot. You should've seen me trying to learn Canceron dancing."

There's a lot of stories that don't have a happy ending. And really, it reminds Beckham to be thankful that his own picture has a chance to still be a happy tale instead of the dark reminder of what it was becoming. Slipping his hand into hers, he brings her forward, leaving enough room for Zeus in there. Then he laughs. "Well, when the line dancing comes about, we'll look like idiots together." There's a lightness in his voice as he glances down. "If you step on my feet though, I'm so complaining." Then he straightens against her, setting her right hand on his shoulder, her left hand in his other as he sets his free hand on her hip. "So, we're going to take two side steps to the left. Two forward. Two to the right. And then two back. A basic box step." He offers, leading her, moving her to the left and taking each step carefully for her to learn it.

Beckham rolls Ballroom Dancing: Success (8 7 4 1 1)
Cate rolls Dancing-2: Good Success (8 7 6 2)

Cate, miraculously, doesn't suck. She has had a few dance lessons of a different sort, and Beckham does a good job of teaching step by step. She follows along decently well - albeit stiffly - and doesn't stomp on his feet. "Everyone looks like an idiot line dancing. I can just imagine all the girls trying to do that in fancy dresses." Pressing her lips for a moment, she says, "The guy on the left in my picture - Evan - he was always dancing... but not like this. I think he was a stripper in a past life." She chuckles softly, a fond but sad smile at the memory.

"Yeah, sorry, don't have any cubit bills for you to stick in my waistband." Beckham grins a little and gives Cate a wink, ackhnowledging her thoughts as he considers her. "Well. Once you get a fancy dress and show up, you won't have to imagine. And trust me.. the real thing is way funnier than what you can imagine." he says as he continues to lead her through the steps. "Don't sell yourself short, Cate." he offers to her quietly, giving her hand a light affectionate, but still friendly squeeze. "You're a beautiful woman, and you would stun. But I'm no dress shopper. Also not your target audience." There's a grin at that as he twists a little to move her around so that the box step is going in the opposite direction. "And it would be nice to have a friend there."

"What, you don't go around prepared for impromptu strip teases? Tsk." Cate clucks her tongue in mock-disapproval. "I'll have to tell Dorn to work on that." The compliment earns him an awkward but grateful little smile. And maybe distracts her a little bit, for when he shifts directions, she does get a little mixed up and steps on his toe with her booted foot. "Shit, sorry."

"Yeeowch! Yeah.." there's a wince at the stomp of boot upon toes. "...you cripple me before the dance, you're going to have to explain a lot more than that to Tams." Beckham says, lifting his leg to shake it out. And he releases her finally as he looks over to her locker and the red uniform within. "I think you'd look good in anything - but maybe aim for the little black dress." he says with a grin as he moves to start to work on his boots again. And of course to rub his poor stepped on toe.

"Sorry," Cate says again, rubbing her head in a guilty gesture. She steps back while he nurses his poor abused toe, and follows his gaze to the uniform. "Well IF I go... medic solidarity and all that..." a grudging but coming-around-to-the-idea tone there. "I'm sure as hell not wearing that thing. Y'know back home we call the Virgon troops 'roosters' because of the red trim and all the feathers and gaudy shit and stuff on their uniforms?" 'Their' uniforms. Which is now 'her' uniform. Which perhaps accounts for the deepening of her frown.

"Well, there's plenty of guys and probably a few girls that would wonder what those feathers can do later." Beckham is obviously teasing her as he leans back in his bunk. "Hibernian, huh?" he asks curiously as he folds his hands behind his head and stretches. "If it's any solace, it's like some.. joint peacemaking thing, you know? Like Sagittaron, you know. All different uniforms - one goal, or some bullshit. But yeah. Get a dress, sooner you're out of that co.." he stops himself from what he was about to say and adjusts, "...rooster suit, the better."

"What?" Cate looks confused about the feathers remark, and the look on her face when she realizes is equal parts embarrassed and amused. "Oh." She clears her throat then and nods to his supposition. "Yeah, Hibernian. And, well, Picon wouldn't keep me and the Foreign Legion wouldn't take me, so... means to an end." She considers the rest of what he's said. "All right, I guess you've twisted my arm." She seems poised to leave, presumably to head off to her shift, but stops to look at him. A faint but sincere smile is offered. "Hey... thanks."

"You can thank me by saving me a dance, Cate." Beckham offers with a grin as he moves to sit back up and start work on polishing his boots again and offers her a more sincere smile. "It's a party. Who knows when we'll have another one. Enjoy it, Cate. Have fun. Dance. Have a few drinks. Take someone back to your room, if that's your want. But we don't know when this is going to end or another chance to celebrate.. so make sure you don't leave a regret in a photo." he says quietly, his smile tinged around his eyes with something else before he returns to his polishing work.

"Hope those boots are sturdy then," Cate says, a good indication of saving him a spot on a hypothetical dance card. His words are taken in with a solemn press of her lips. "Yeah, that's good advice. Regrets suck." She makes sure her bunk area is tidy, then offers, "Dorn's a lucky girl, Becks. I'll see you later." And then she's heading off.


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