Two familiar faces. One unexpected meeting place. Also, a cowboy hat.
Location: Head, Middeck, //Vanguard//
Related Scenes: None
Scene Number: 1006
Standing out on a new ship when a lot of faces are new, particularly to each other, is a bit hard to come by. At least it should be, however Evan has found a way that probably does have him sticking out a bit more than usual. Whenever he is offduty, which before heading to Canceron was more often then not, he has taken to donning his cowboy hat that has been well worn from days in the Scorpian jungles. It does stand out a bit, especially as he has a habit of wearing it whenever he's heading from the barracks to the head along with his 'I just woke up' wardrobe.
That is where he is walking into at present in fact, making his way into the Head after having awoken a short time ago, that still sleepy gaze upon eyes that are only a little blood shot, dressed in sweats and of course the hat lazily thrown on his head. If one were to ask him, he'd guess the time was Alpha shift, but it's hard to say as he pulled a double trying to get himself back into combat shape.
Perhaps thankfully, Eva is, initially, spared the sight of Evan wandering into the head looking like some strange...okay, no analogy really fits...just strange. She's in the middle of that moment of bliss, when you can actually claim that you do not know what's going on in the head and not be lying about it, because you're in the middle of rinsing the shampoo out of your hair, and your eyes are closed. Alas, the bliss of ignorance is broken, as she rinses the last of the soap from her hair and comes out from under the spray, straightening. A slow blink, as she catches sight of the, to her, familiar face, "And here I am without a cubit bill to tuck somewhere unmentionable."
Toothbrush in mouth, Evan is barely coherent enough to recognize a voice but it does pierce through to his ears. Turning as he hears the familiar tone, an eyebrow creeps up and his head tilts. Pulling the toothbrush out he turns to spit and utters, "Well as I live and breathe, if it isn't the Cherry on top of things. The 'ell you doing here?"
Cherry is, damn her, bright eyed and bushy tailed. Whether that's because she actually is a morning person, or because she's on a complementary schedule, well, the world may never know. "This is what you ditched breakfast with me for?" A sniff, as she turns, briefly, grabbing conditioner, because let's be real, nobody wants to see her hair without conditioner. She takes her time, working it through her hair as she turns back to the barely conscious Scorpian. "Clearly, I came here for the free entertainment. That and the fact that they let me fly a ship and shoot really big guns."
"Actually, yes." Evan admits with a stifled yawn, taking a moment to tilt his head and look her over. No reason not to. "After I left breakfast, I had meeting where they... strongly encouraged me to reactivate so they could throw me in with you lot. Apparently there was a need for some kind of heroic sort... but instead y'all got me." The last is said with a grin, small one at that before he finishes brushing and then heads towards one of the shower stalls, removing the sweatshirt which revolves a beautiful collection of scars and tattoos.
Cherry, in that way that only too many years in these sort of circumstances can breed, neither notices nor acknowledges the once over she gets, as she turns back to start the process of actually soaping up, "Well, I'm sure we can find something suitably terrible to throw you into, and tell wonderfully heroic lies after. Nice ink." Cherry, for her part, save for her wrists, has neither scars nor ink. if ever there was a litmus test for whether or not someone was a Marine or a Navy pilot, that would probably be it.
Evan's glance was part of the surface look and it does note the scars, or lack there of. "These? Thanks. Most of them are clan related or service related." He explains as he moves to get into the shower, after shedding the rest of his clothes. "You didn't tell me this was your assignment however. It's not going to get weird when I start having to call you sir, right?"
"Is that a universal thing? Tattooing to show your membership in a group or clan? Taurans do it too, to mark their familial allegiances and histories. Me, I feel as though a secret handshake would suffice. But then, the emphasis on Hibernia is on not giving away your allegiances, so I admit to a slightly skewed perspective." Pause. "You never asked. Nor were the Timber Wolves, at the time, common knowledge, if they even are now." Eva, chipper and efficient, starts the rinsing off process, minus the hair, "Well, that's the beauty of addressing a pilot, you technically never have to call me sir. Unless that's your particular kink." Callsigns for the win.
"Usually for that level of kink the price I get charged is double... wait, what?" The joking tone of Evan can be heard over the water as he sets to the wake up shower routine. Washing hair, body, all the necessities of life in order to not smell like a boot, or the foot that occupied said boot. "Still, mildly surprising right? Of all the ships in all the fleet. Then again, there was probably good odds I'd run into someone from the beach considering all the folks there."
"Well, that's probably by people," could be men, could be women, she doesn't know or judge, "who don't actually have that privilege in real life." Cherry, finally, gets to her hair, rinsing out the conditioner, before she finishes with the rest, grabbing for the towel to dry off, "I, by the grace of the the royal navy...do." She considers, using the towel to squeeze most of the water out of her hair, "Well, a little surprising, but only because of the sheer number of people from Galactica down there. You seemed to be doing your best to meet as many people as possibly, if what you told me was accurate."
"Cause that was the expectation on the planet." Evan responds to Cherry as his own water shuts off, towel being grabbed as he sets to work drying. "See, on the planet, I was working for the Scorpian military. Now? Well, they may think I'm supposed to hold some kind of colony loyalty, but they're mistaken. This is the assignment? Then service is to the fleet." His broad shoulders lift into a shrug as he sets to drying off. "I mean, make no mistake, I certainly enjoyed simply getting to be social on the beach, but it was for a reason as well."
Cherry, finished with the drying, tucks the towel around herself as she steps out from the showers and heads to where she has her kit sitting by one of the sinks, "I don't think the Colonial Forces expect you to hold to your affiliations in your home world, but I think the people those tattoos represent probably do." She reaches for a brush, starting to work through the tangles. "So the reason was what...to acclimate yourself to people who aren't from Scorpia?"
Evan nods his head, "Acclimate to others, assess the current state of the colonial forces. It sounds so... spy like. It really wasn't. It was really just a sort of 'Hey Evan, we would like you to meet the people coming down and just get an idea for what you think.'" The man offers Cherry a smile as he finishes drying off and flings the towel into the laundry hamper, beginning the process of getting dressed in a non hurried fashion.
"Actually, that's precisely what it sounds like. Let me know when they come back to you and ask you for your honest evaluation of the colonial forces." Cherry's tone isn't quite acidic, but there is some tartness there. Finding out that someone who might have been a good candidate for a friend was just...sizing you up, well...She finishes with her hair, giving it a quick braid, and turning to brushing her teeth and finishing off the little odds and ends.
"Wait, wait... hold on." Evan says looking at Cherry following the acid in her tone. "You want to tell me that your superiors from home don't ask what you think of things? Someone asks me what I think, I'm generally going to tell them." He walks over towards where she's working her hair, arms folding. He didn't get quite as far dressed as he wanted, only sweat pants on at the moment.
Cherry pauses, in mid motion, the toothbrush, complete with toothpaste held up in front of her, looking, rather comically, like a makeshift microphone, as she turns to face the big man stepping up to her. Karaoke in the head, anyone? "Actually, no. When I volunteered for the Colonial Fleet, they were only too happy to see the back of me, and, likely, every other Hibernian they could foist on the CF. So no, I haven't heard anything from Virgon since I was seconded here. And, even if I did, as you said, if I'm fighting for the Colonial Forces, then my first allegiance...is to the Colonial Forces."
"Exactly." Evan states, as if she's proven his point. "When transferred, duty changes. So here I am. With a clear cut duty not to this..." He taps one of the tattoos, probably a symbol for Scorpia or a clan, "But rather this," a motion of his hands to take in the showers. "Well ok, maybe not a duty to the bathroom, but you know what I mean." There it is, that smile.
Eva reaches out...not with the hand holding the toothbrush, thank you, a fingertip tapping that same tattoo, which could possibly be too personal, but considering they just both got the full monty, isn't that splitting hairs? "So what you're saying is, when this," she taps the tattoo again, for emphasis, "Comes with their questions, you're going to tell them they can go hang?"
Looking at the finger that's prodding at his chest, Evan follows it up to the source and looks Eva in the eyes. "It means that when people ask me questions, they'll get an answer suited for them. Even if that answer is no comment. After all, some questions probably should be answered. What did you think of the people you worked with, for example. That's a fine question to answer. But anything compromising? No comment."
Well, it probably isn't splitting hairs, because there's an unspoken rule in the head. With no real normal sense of privacy, you find other way to give people their space, and Eva withdraws her hand, though there isn't much more room to move, as she's now between the marine and the sink, "So are those like permanent super secret handshakes?" Clearly, she's content enough with his response not to press it further. A tilts of her head, though, "What do you think of the people you're working with...so far?"
"Sort of. It identifies which clans you've associated with, what relationships you have with them. Then of course some show where you've had conflicts as well." Evan takes, gratefully, the distraction from the topic and looks down at one of them to indicate it. "Main clan, from when I was a kid." His eyes drift over Eva for a moment and an eyebrow quirks up. "Still figuring out what I think about some of the people I work with. Haven't really worked with any of them, just spent time with them."
Eva looks back down, studying the tattoos. Some still whole, others slightly marred by the scars on your skin. Her look is curious, honestly so, "And what happens if your allegiances change, or you're, I don't know...can you be disowned from a clan? They don't do something horrible like cut it or burn it off, do they?" A quirk of her lips at your response to the question of your now comrades, "Well, we'll know soon enough. We're all heading down to the planet now. They've even got me on some of the raptor rotations, to give the crews a break, since I'm one of the few viper sticks cross-trained on raptors."
"Cut them, burn them, they're removed, or crossed out." Evan affirms with a shrug and then sets to work finishing his drying off with a towel and preparing to get a shirt pulled on. "And yeah, the orders for the planet have come through, although I'm not sure what my specifics are yet. If I get stuck on your raptor, try not to crash, yeah? I kind of have a few plans to follow through on."
Eva scans Evan's chest, and, as he turns and steps away, his back, to see if he bears any marks that would indicate that something exactly as he described is visible on the skin she can see. A quick glance though, because her toothbrush is still waiting, and she turns back to actually start brushing her teeth. A snort of sound, at the comment, "I managed to fly a jury-rigged Heavy Raider off of this planet. I think I can manage to get you back safely without crashing."
"Excellent. I don't want to have to explain to the armies of adoring fans that I crashed because someone was too distracted by my tattoos to fly straight." Apparently he caught sight of the gaze from the mirror. It was one of those moments that cause him to grin over his own shoulder back at Eva, eyebrow quirking up. "At least I'm assuming it was the tattoos being admired."
Eva does not immediately answer, taking the time to finish brushing, to spit and rise out her mouth, stand back up and start rinsing off her brush. Not looking in the least abashed by the comment, "Oh, no, it was the whole package," with just the barest hint of emphasis on the last word, the hand not holding the brush under the water doing a sort of 'taking it all in circling' motion, "my friend. I am an equal opportunity creeper."
"Ah, see that's what surprises me a bit." Evan comments as he finishes pulling his shirt on. "You'll creep in the head, but on the beach it's all being proper? Such an interesting turn." The tone is teasing and amused as he finishes prepping and turns, watching Eva with arms folded in front of his chest.
Eva, taking a few moments to finish up at the sink, puts away her toiletries and carries her bag over towards her locker. Her free hand tugs off the towel and tosses it into the hamper closest to her before she opens the locker, and, setting down the bag, begins to pull out underwear, and, like you, comfortable sweats, "What were you expecting...more ships in the night, better frak him now, because he'll probably be gone in the morning, less 'This is just like an interlude from an old black and white movie'? What you're suggesting seems a bit desperate housewife to me. And while I might be old enough to be a housewife, I'm not desperate."
"Ouch, you cut me deep." Evan intones back, still humored in tone. "The fact that I don't even constitute as being considered good enough for desperate." Ok, yes, he's probably watching her dress but at least there's an attempt at subtlety. "But you know, ships in the night does sound appropriate; of course now? Stuck on the same ship. So at least it avoided awkwardness right?"
"Actually, quite the opposite," is Eva's answer, as she tugs on her bra, boyshorts, and then steps into her sweat bottoms. She doesn't move at 'launch the alert vipers' speed, but she's possibly taking a hair longer than she normally would, "I would have to rate you as too good for desperate. Desperate seems to imply, also, 'Well, he's sort of bottom of the barrel, but I'll take him.'" She considers, eyes taking you in, folded arms and humoured smile and all, "I've seen a hell of a lot worse. I've only rarely seen better." First one tank top and then the other, a hand pulling the braid out from underneath as she tugs them down, "Depends on how adult you are. After you've been on trapped on a ship long enough, you learn to get over awkward."
"Hmm, adulting... always been my weakness." There's the humor again but the tone hints that the comment is far from the truth. There are moments when he has an aged look to his eyes but they fade away. "I'll have to see what's worse, trapped on a ship or trapped in a cave. I'll let you know in a couple of months which one I find more miserable." As she finishes dressing, Evan looks around the Head to take in to see if any other people's are lurking before he lowers his voice. "Rarely better? Is that a compliment?"
"Oh, no doubt." Something in Eva's tone seems to imply that she doesn't believe that for a minute, but like the questions of earlier about allegiances and how they change, she doesn't push, "Oh, the cave. Much fewer options in the cave. At least on a ship, there's enough variety, that eventually, when you get back to the beginning, you can almost close your eyes and pretend it's all new again." A beat, "or so I've heard." As she sees him look around, Eva also follows suit. Not because she wants to see who is and isn't around, but more because she's trying to figure out exactly what he's looking for. She too lowers her voice, though there's enough humour there to show she does think it a bit daft to do so, "Yes, that was a compliment Surely you've gotten them before?"
"I have, but usually not after shower time." Evan counters the comment and his eyebrow quirks up. "I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were saying, so I could hold it against you when the time came to do such." Going over to his duffel, he picks it up and slings it over his shoulder, since it had the toiletries and other useful things in it. "What's your plan for today?"
Eva laughs, a warm, full-throated sound, "Clearly, you either haven't kept most women around long enough to last through the shower....or you go for the bag over the head technique. Possibly you demand pitch darkness. Because," here she lowers her voice again, a mock conspiratorial whisper, "It's sort of hard to miss." Finished herself, Eva grabs her bag of toiletries and the small bag she stuffed her duty greens into, "Oh, I knew what I was saying." She takes both, and slamming the locker, moves towards the hatch, "Probably prep supplies to head down to the surface, see who's on the team going down. If we'll be doing relief or rescue. You?"
"Probably getting on a relief or rescue team. Figured I need to stretch my legs and get back into the habit of Marining again," Evan ponders the new verb he just created then shrugs. A glance over at Eva and he adds in the same conspiracy tone. "You need to never sell yourself short there Cherry. I don't dance on the beach with random girls just cause they are there. Gotta be selective with my personal time."
Eva waits, to see if you plan to join her on your way out of the head, "Well, check the duty rotation, see if you can get one of the Marines to swap out with you. I'll take you down. Best ride you'll ever have." Yes, she says that with a completely straight face, because pilot. Or because Cherry, "I never do. But I'll thank you for the compliment. Still you should come down. I can't promise you a beach, but there might be dancing." She ducks through the hatch, pausing as she waits for you, before heading to the berthings to drop off her gear.