2237-04-27 - That's What She Said

Hungover Beckham catches up with not-so-hungover Erin. They chat about her (lack of) love life.

Date: 2237-04-27

Location: Rec Room - Battlestar //Galactica//

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 993

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There's a Pyramid game on. That usually brings a healthy group to the vid-monitor, regardless of their team affiliations. Why? Because it's Pyramid, folks. That's how it goes.

For her part, Erin does a good job ignoring the game. Or attempting to. Or appearing to. She's sitting in a comfortable chair about six feet from where the other crew and marines congregate. Yet, from there, she has a clear view of the monitor; it's just the right spot, really, to watch inconspicuously. But she's reading: specifically, she's reading some large-ish tome of lore, like she normally does. That makes her bookish. That makes her a nerd. That's why she sits by herself.

It's hard not to notice how long she spends before flipping pages, though. And how her eyes occasionally look over the top of the tome. More then occasionally, at times.

Having more than a passing interest in pyramid, Beckham is arriving in the recreation room just as there comes a small groan from a few people that were watching the game. "She was wide open! Why didn't they pass?!" seems to be the general conscensus.

Going to grab one of the magazines from the shelves, he only has a waning interest in the game. Instead, he seeks out a quiet table to settle at and lean back in the chair as he moves to put the magazine over the head. Hangover.

There's a glance over at the girl looking over the book as she watches the game, and then quickly back down. "...I take it your interest is purely academic?" he asks as he makes the tent over his head.

It doesn't take a trained scientist to figure out what Beckham ails from. There's probably the usual signs: blood-shot eyes; gray bags underneath the same; and the pallid skin that signifies that someone got up too early for his body to recover from the poison put into it. Erin was /likely/ at the beach party somewhere, out-of-sight and out-of-mind.

To Becks' comment, the Chillster smiles very briefly. "All of my interests are purely academic," she remarks. "For example, I am considering what would happen were I to increase the volume suddenly and violently." From under her book, she holds up the remote. "That is, what would happen to your head."

"It'd explode, and you'd be left to clean up the mess." comes the reply from beneath the magazine as he leans his head to stare up at the cieling - well, the cover model on the magazine to stare up at the cieling with that photographic perfect smile. "Haven't seen you around much. Ever get the nerve to ask the doc out?" So asks said cover model as he folds his arms over his chest to go with his lean.

"Missed you at the fleet shindig, and the party at Eli's last night. So either, it went really well, and you and Cate have been busy, or it didn't go so great, and you're hiding behind the book."

"I did," says Erin in her characteristic, crisp, clinical tone. "To be more precise, I asked if she wanted to go to the formal ball together." Beat. "She said she would, but that she planned on going with some friends. Plus, she made it clear that she was only interested in men."

The topic of conversation is enough to get at least two of the nearby Pyramid viewers to look back at Erin and Beckham. A woman asking a woman out isn't news; but gossip is as gossip does, regardless of gender or preference. And Marines are awful people at that.

"As for the book -- " Blink. " -- my parents were scientists. So, I like reading up on it." Erin pats the top of her textbook. "I'm learning about limnology. It's quite interesting." Empirically, it is not.

"Limnology? I know a good limmerick or two." There's a reason why Beckham's a medic and not something smarter. Stick bandage A on wound B is pretty simple science as he nods. "Hope you enjoyed yourself, though you missed out on a pretty target rich environment last night." comes the response as he isn't even noticing the others glancing over at them.

Gossip and chatter is just that, gossip and chatter. "So, you're recon, right?" he asks casually. "How does someone with a couple of scientists as parents end up huffing it ahead of the main body, looking for trouble."

Erin blinks. It's almost as if she's never been asked that. "It doesn't seem to be reasonable." Because she /also/ doesn't seem like the hard-nosed, rush-into-danger type. "But I'm Aquarian, Sergeant. My parents are dead. Most of the rest of my family too, or scattered." Shrug. "I came to believe that I had no reason to live. It was not a pleasant time."

"But the military gave me a purpose." Beat. "And it was reasonable to choose to be ahead of the main body. The Marines, like you, have people they love and care about -- and who love and care about them. As I did not, it seems wise to put me at the head of the column."

"Sorry to hear about your parents.." Talking about parents in general is usually a subject Beckham avoids for good reason. And this is no exception as he frowns. "Actually, let me correct that to - sorry about your whole planet. Don't know why they busted a nut over taking Aquaria, but they went hard on you guys." he offers thoughtfully, before returning to his attention to the matter at hand.

"Marines have their outside interest, but we're a family in and of ourselves, first. We can't make it work between us, we're going to get frakked, stacked, and packed." he admits before he shrugs. "Just because you think you're alone in this doesn't mean that if you get hit, Cate, I, or even Miko won't be up there in a rush to try to put you back together. That's what we do. And in that, you're our family."

Erin's response gives her callsign meaning. "I appreciate the sentiment, Sergeant, but it's unnecessary." She closes up her book. "Tactically, my job is to ensure the column is clear. Moving ahead often means moving alone. The one or two minutes it may take to reach me is best served preparing to counterattack an ambush, if sprung." Shrug. "Victory is most important. And that means sacrifices at times."

"As for Aquaria, it was an easy target." Erin draws in a breath slowly. "A group of isolated scientists and idealists could be annihilated with minimal losses, and serve as a message to others. And it did, I think, but perhaps not in the way the Cylons may have wanted."

Lifting up his hand, Beckham makes a blah blah blah motion. "Make room up their on the sacrifical altar for the offering to Zeus, Miss Martyr." he responds with a small snort as he lowers the magazine a little. "You want to be fatalistic, because that's cool and edgy, that's fine. But my job is to save your ass so you can be all dark and emo with your scar latter."

"As for Aquaria.. if that was the case, the Cylons would have bugged out by now. Something's got them there - whatever it was that kept your parents and everyone else there, I imagine. Not the yellow sno-cones, I'm sure. It's never lemon."

Erin frowns a little. "Make no mistake, Sergeant; I do not intend to die." Beat. "I'd like what you have. I'd like to have someone to share my life with. But I don't, and you do." She lifts an eyebrow. "How is it any less altruistic to stand in front of you so that there's a better chance you come home to your wife?"

"You'd be a damn fool, because I have at least six inches in height and ten inches in waist on you." Beckham responds. "Plus, if you're in front of me, you're blocking my cover and making my life a general PITA." comes the comment as he sets down the magazine to stretch out with a yawn. "Anyway, as recon, isn't part of your job not being seen so you can report back. I mean, we're not talking scout here. We're talking elite."

Erin looks up at the ceiling for a moment, and sighs. "Words." Break.

Onto the next topic. "That's part of the job, yes. But there's more to it: details which, I'm sure, would be of little interest to heroes in white." She opens up her textbook again. And then, there's a short pause.

"How's married life treating you?"

"Depends on if it's before or after they fit you for the whacky jacket." Beckham responds straight-laced to her for once before he shrugs his shoulders and actually takes a moment to consider her question. "Not much different than before I was married. I mean, technically, we were married eight years ago, but shit happens, and you end up looking to get a quickie wedding in front of the chaplain just to confirm what you already knew and affirm the fact that you're still wanting each other." he starts to ramble, and then pauses himself.

"She's the best thing I could ever hope or wish for, my own little Genie, in a way. That she wants to try this again with me is probably the very definition of insanity, you know, doing the same thing over and over again and hoping for a different result. But she did, and we are. Happy that is. So I guess that's my answer. Happy. Very much so."

At the very least, Erin is a good listener. Even if she seems to be paying more attention to her book.

"Men and women envy the both of you, Sergeant. Can't fault them for not wanting anything to happen to either of you." She looks up from page 237. "And that's what led me to conclude that I should at least gauge Corporate Rhodes' interest." She frowns. "Personally, I thought it was a silly, vain idea. I've been told, more than once, that I have the personality of sandpaper."

Shrug. "Oh well. We can't all be dashing, cavalier, or interesting."

"Did she reject you because you were neither dashing, cavalier, or interesting?" Beckham retorts, simply, keeping it short this time because he wants to hear her answer instead of putting words in her mouth.

To that, Erin shrugs her shoulders. "I cannot speculate on her reasons. She only stated that she was interested in men." She closes up her book again. "So, I suppose, whether I was dashing, cavalier, or interesting had little to do with her reasons. I cannot be sure."

Not that she's thought about it at all. Honest. Just ignore the thoughtful expression. It comes and goes, and is replaced by her usual resting-bitch face.

"I take it that you had a good time last night, then."

"Funny, if I recall; and feel free to correct me if I'm wrong, but you said yourself, that she wanted to go with you as a friend because she was not interesting in someone of the same sex romantically." Beckham points out casually, and waits to see if she does correct him on that as he smiles thinly, a lift of his brows.

"I showed up with my new wife, left early with the same. Doesn't take a rocket scientist to know how my night went."

"That's what she said." Erin shrugs. "Whether it is true or not is a matter of speculation." Beat. "I feel as if I already said that."


"People say a lot of things, Sergeant." She draws her fingers along the page she has open at the moment. "That's all."

"Did you drink the alcohol that resulted in your hangover before or after you left with your new wife?" Beat. "I suppose that if you were still able to give her a good time, your stamina is nigh legendary." She may be attempting humor. Maybe.

"During, before, after.. well, there's a reason she married me a second time around." Beckham responds. "So the first girl said no because she is interested in boys. Doesn't mean you hang up the lace panties and wear the granny cottons for the rest of your life. From what I can tell, the ratio of women to men on this ship is roughly one point seven five to one, at least. And from what I saw last night; the guys weren't all that interested, so don't go burying yourself too far in your ocean studies, Corporal." With that, he starts to stand to put the magazine back to go get ready for duty.

"Isn't one of the rules of recon that if the primary target is not available or accessible - there is always a secondary target that can be just as valuable?" he grins a little. "Or, to put it in your terms. Fish. Ocean. Lots of." there's a wink, and he's heading off.

Erin makes a face at Beckham. Like, some eye-narrowing, some lip-pursing, and internal cursing.

"Don't you think it's impolite to bring up my bombed-out home planet where my family burned to ash?" she asks pointedly. Because, you know, it's a sore spot, Aquaria is. Even if they may have brought it upon themselves somehow.

"You presume far too much, Sergeant." Resolutely, Erin goes back to her book. "Like, if I wear panties at all." And that makes someone else look back over their shoulder. As if that somehow made Erin more attractive sandpaper.

"Corporal, all of our planets have at least one bombed out husk on them and a loved one with a grave marker these days. You're not a special snowflake, no matter how cold you may think it makes you. And when you come out of your igloo and rejoin the human race, I'll welcome you with a beer." Beckham says with a smirk. "But none of that Caprican crap, tastes like piss." he puts down his own planet's brew.

"As for your choice in undergarments, or lack of - I'm sure that will be the subject of debate of war scholars hundreds of years of now when they look over your illustrious career." And there's a chuckle as he walks past the crewmember looking over his shoulder at Erin.

"That's what she said." he quips as he ducks out of the room.


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