2237-05-07 - Awkward Antelopes

Politics is discussed, reporters are bashed and romantic advice dispensed during an awkward evening in Vanguard's head.

Date: 2237-05-07

Location: Head

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 1009

Jump to End

Isolde Ko Asa has been increasingly mopey since their assignment to the Vanguard and return to Canceron. While she has moments of chipperness and cheer, time spent in solitude drifts her into more downcast demeanors. She is currently standing at one of the sinks with a towel wrapped and knotted around her middle, brushing her teeth with little intensity nor focus, her gaze staring at something unseen as she goes through the motions. A bit of toothpaste has landed on her chin, threatening to drip.

Somehow, Van managed to get floodwaters all over his flightsuit and in some utterly incomprehensible way, on his face. He backs into the head, calling out, "Yeah, real funny, Icy. Real funny." Shaking his head, he turns back into the room, and his face initially brightens to see Isolde, and then his brows start to knit together as he takes in her expression, or lack there-of. "Are you awake in there, Izzy?" Concern filters into his voice, "You look like you're a million miles away."

Van startles her out of her reverie, and she jumps a bit, pulling the toothbrush out of her mouth and wiping at her chin as she does. "Van," she says, mouthful of toothpaste. She leans over the sink, spits, and then grabs a washcloth so she can fully wipe her face. "Sorry, sorry. Just thinking." She turns, hand on her hip. Her hair is still wet from the shower, curling slightly. If she lets it, it will be all waves and curls, but she often brushes it out. "Just got off shift. You?"

Van gestures to the eu de stale water he's currently wearing on his flight suit. "I got Canceroned." He pauses to take in his girlfriend in her towel and curling hair, smiling faintly, then starts around to the sink next to her, "I decided that I should probably get un-Canceroned before I went back to quarters." Turning on warm water, he splashes it over his face and neck, shaking his face off and then looking up from his curled-over position, "What are you thinking about?"

"Un-Canceroning is a good idea," Isolde offers with a wry smile to her boyfriend before she looks back at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes drift to his reflection, and she offers a small smile. She glances over her shoulder on both sides before she sighs. "I miss the Galactica." Then she takes up a handful of water, rinses out her mouth, and spits. She wipes her face again, and then begins to finish up, grabbing her bag so she can dig out some other bottles and tubes. "I mean... the Vanguard is great." Her tone isn't selling it. "But, I miss my baby."

His face and neck at least washed off, Van starts over toward the showers, then stops at her surreptitious comment, frowning a moment in mingled concern and confusion. And then some of the confusion falls away, and he chuckles, then raises a hand to cover the chuckle. Doing his best to smooth over his features, he inquires, "Did someone let you look at Vanguard's code? And it's not anywhere up to snuff? Or is this a hardware issue and there's just not enough of it on Vanguard? Nobody can match up to the thing you helped create?"

"No," Isolde says reproachfully. "I haven't actually looked. But I know it isn't." Because she didn't work on it. She glances over toward him, looking downcast. "There's no way that this ship has the same computer mainframe that the Galactica did. And that makes it dumb." The word isn't even used childishly or over-dramatically, but as a suitable adjective. She watches his reflection as she works lotion across her face and neck. Then she grabs her brush, and starts the process of brushing out those curls so they are just the light and bouncy waves she normally maintains.

"Well of course it doesn't have the same hardware the Galactica has, Izzy." It's probably a good thing that Van is a computer nerd himself, or he might be laughing at Isolde, to tragic consequences for him. As it is, the words are more placating than chastising, "The Big G was top of the line, just out of the yards." Well, as top-of-the-line as you can get without networking everything. "Vanguard isn't a battlestar. It doesn't have as many systems to control, so it doesn't need as much computing power." He finally walks over to the showers, turning the nearest one on and actually just walking under it, so that the water plays over the space-proof and water-proof material under shoulder height, sluicing away floodwater.

"I know." Isolde looks rather downcast as she finishes up her prep, and shoves everything back in her bag. She turns to watch the pilot walk right under the shower, flightsuit and all. She tilts her head, and a small smile buds at her lips. "That's not going to really get you clean, you know," she points out as she leans against the sink counter, crossing her arms and watching the pilot with a quirk of her head. "You got to, you know, get naked."

Van keeps his head back out of the spray, stepping back after a moment and looking down over his now-soaked flight suit. "No, you're right. But it will wash off the smell of stale water. Or at least it will start to do so." He shakes his head slowly, "I was flying a SAR flight, and once we got on-deck, someone hugged me. Which was nice of them," he's playing the pronoun game, "but unfortunately, they had been up to their armpits in stale, stagnant water for a couple of days." He pauses, then adds, "You should talk to the Cyber Systems officer on the ship. Maybe they would let you look at the hardware so you can see just how much you've stepped down from Galactica."

Isolde crosses her arms as she watches him from her lean against the sink's counter. "Well, we should get you out of your flightsuit then." Her tone takes on a playful note before it slips back into seriousness. She grimaces. "Yeah, okay... I'll do that, but I doubt that it'll make me feel any better. And besides, I shouldn't be poking around. That was my old job... I'm an ECO now. I got to stay focused." And she gestures with both hands in a cutting, focused motion down the line. Then she pushes up off the counter and saunters into the showers, staying clear of the spray.

"And how focused are you now?" Van teases, gesturing toward Isolde with a couple of wiggling fingers. "And it might not make you feel better, but unless the situation is really bad, I doubt it will make you feel worse." He reaches forward to shut off the spray, at least for a moment, "And are you going to go run and get me clean, dry clothes when I'm done? Or should I come back with a towel and soap and shampoo and clean clothes now that I don't smell like a bilge." His grin slips into teasing crookedness, "I think you should want me to strip down."

"Yeah, I guess," Isolde accepts with a small grunt. She looks on the verge of moping again, but then her brows perk and she looks up with a hint of interest at his teasing note. She starts to smile, her look a bit coy. "I definitely want you to strip down." She catches the edge of her lip with her teeth, smiling all the while. "I think that you can walk the, what, twenty paces from the head to the berthings in just a towel. And I've got plenty of soap." She pushes off the wall, striding forward with a cautious glance to the head's door.

"Oh, you're going to give up your towel?" Van laughs easily, reaching up to unlock the neck-guard tight about his throat and then start to tug down his zipper. He is apparently willing to let her keep a watch out for anyone entering if she's planning any shenanigans, because he keeps his attention on her. A little more laughter bubbles up at the corners of his lips, "Or maybe it's just that you want to make sure that I smell like my girlfriend so there isn't any doubt that I've been claimed." He zips out of his flight suit easily enough, bunching it around his waist and starting to pull off the twin tanks underneath.

Isolde turns her gaze back to his just as he starts to unzip, and she grins even wider at him. "I don't think there's any real doubt." Then she presses a hand to her chest. "I brought a change of clothes with me. I didn't go to the head without all the right tools." She then tilts her head, smiling as she watches him strip off the tanktops. Her hair is drying, taking on that pleasant wave instead of the curls she had moments ago. But, who is to say how long that hair will stay dry at this point.

Van stands in the shower section of the head, his flight suit stripped down to his waist and his face already wet, although the shower heads are turned off at present. He folds his tanktops carefully over one another, "I didn't go into the head planning on doing more than washing off my face and flight suit." Amusement bubbles under his voice, and he tosses the carefully-folded shirts toward Isolde with his left hand, teasing her, "Someone else decided to throw me into the shower."

Isolde looks like she's already been through her usual routine, though she's still in a towel even while her hair is brushed and drying. She is leaning against a near-by wall, watching the Viper pilot. "Well, you're being super slow... what if this was an emergency and you needed to get stripped down and washed super fast? Imagine the disappointment Ryan would have. Or Webb. Picture Webb really disappointed at you." Isolde starts to giggle at the image in her head of Webb yelling at Van for not showering fast enough.

Cate wanders in, looking tired and dirty, the stink of dank water clinging to her despite having removed the wet coveralls before returning to the ship. She arrives just in time to catch the last bit of Isolde's comment. Then she sees who Isolde is talking to, and pauses. That's not awkward at all. But she presses on anyway, going over to claim a towel and set her shower bag with her clean clothes on the bench. "Hey," she offers to the pair of them.

The image of Ryan being disappointed at Van actually has some impact, but Webb... less so. Van pulls off his boots and socks, then shucks off his flight suit, leaving him in standard issue boxer briefs, "If this was an emergency, I don't think I would have a woman ogling me." The flight suit is draped over the railing, out of danger of accidental spray -- even though it's already dripping wet. Van gives a rub to his right knee, where a shrapnel scar and a surgery scar are clustered together, and then looks up sharply at Cate's arrival, his eyes widening slightly. Van glances over to Isolde, his cheeks pinking, then clears his throat and straightens up, "Oh... hey Doc." He looks over to his already-removed flight suit, his lack of towel, his lack of clean clothes, back to Isolde a moment, and then shrugs a little helplessly to himself. "You end up soaked on a trip planet-side too?"

"I'm not ogling. I'm staring intently." Isolde then glances over her shoulder when she hears someone come in, and she brightens at the sight of Cate. "Cate! You smell about as bad as Van, but you remembered your shower kit." She gives Van a look, though she does blush just slightly as Van does. She sighs, but humored, and starts to step back to where she's stashed a change of clothes. She gets all locker room, opening the door to the locker, grabbing her back, and starting the covert dressing maneuvers with her towel still in place. First, the 'unmentionables.' She glances to Cate at Van's question. "I haven't gotten down there yet, or not for any long period of time. More like a couple touch-and-go's to drop off marines."

"You are totally ogling," Cate offers helpfully, her tone wry. "Not that I blame you." Though Van gets only the briefest of glances before her eyes are politely averted. "Yeah, we were doing recovery in one of the flooded districts. I think those coveralls are more like water-resistant than water-proof. You take your Viper for a swim or something?" she wonders. "And what were you planning to do without a shower kit? Go streaking to the berthings?"

Van just finishes stripping down to shower, apparently unconcerned by Cate's presence out of context of whatever discussion he was having with Isolde -- although that blush does linger. In fact, it intensifies a bit at Cate's commentary, "I was planning on just sluicing off my face and flight-suit." He taps the shower on, stepping under it since he already got it heated up, "I took a SAR flight, since there hasn't been any joy CAP-wise." He frowns slightly at the irony that 'joy' is enemy action, but powers on, "I got hugged by someone who had been in the water a good long while. Very enthusiastically hugged."

Isolde blushes a bit more when Cate points out her ogling. She shakes her head slightly, smiling at her feet as she wriggles her sports bra in place and then drops her towel. She flings it toward Van. "There, now you have a towel." She then grabs her clean off-duties, starting to dress with the layered tank tops. "I think he was planning on streaking, but is ashamed to admit it." She casts a grin toward Cate.

Cate offers a wan smirk over at Isolde. "Nah, Newton is entirely to proper to go streaking down to the barracks. He'd put his stinky flight suit back on, go get his kit, come back and take another shower." More seriously though, she says to Van (without actually looking at him), "Nice to get a hug though. Did your good deed for the day. Better than what happened to Flats and Damon."

Van steps forward, most of the way out of the shower spray, to catch the towel from Isolde and drape it over the railing alongside his flight suit. "That absolutely sounds like me," he notes to Isolde, and then clears his throat as Cate hits the nail on the head. He looks aside a moment, then notes, "I... may have been planning to do just that. And yes, it would have been nicer if he hadn't been two meters tall and at least a buck-twenty." Kilos, of course. "With a big bushy beard that had been under water too." He blows out a breath though, "I heard what happened. Crazy."

"See, if Van went streaking, no one would believe it. Webb would totally think it was some kind of prank by someone else." She tugs up her pants, and then tucks in the tanks. She glances over her shoulder toward the pair now with a tilt of her head. "Yeah, I heard about that, too." She grimaces before she stuffs the rest of her stuff in her bag, keeping her feet bare for now. She looks over to Cate. "All sorts of people go crazy under the right circumstances."

"Skanky beard. Ugh." Cate offers sympathetically. She gets out of the yucky clothes, her depressingly-impressive collection of scars on full display. Easy to see why she has so many clusters on her sacrifice medal, easy to wonder how exactly she's still alive. She steps into the shower and nods slightly to Isolde. "Yeah. It's sad though. I mean, he lost his family. He just wouldn't believe us." She sighs. "Anyway. What about you, Iz? Been planetside?" Yes, Isolde already said that, but apparently Cate wasn't paying close enough attention. She's tired.

Since he's in the shower anyhow now, Van ducks his head under the spray, rubbing the sweat out of his hair, then steps back again, blowing out water and wiping his face with one hand before he makes a beckoning gesture to Isolde, "I believe you promised me soap." Cate's description of the situation on the ground draws his attention over to her, and he grunts, then looks back to Isolde, "I don't know how I'd react if my whole family was just... gone. I hope I never have to find out."

"If you mean have my feet actually touched the ground, then no... my Raptor has a few times, but it's been boring round trips between the Vanguard and the ground. Nothing exciting." Not yet at least. Isolde is polite when Cate gets all shower ready, though she can't help noticing the scars. She pulls herself up onto the sink counter, folding her hands together once she's settled. She snorts at Van, but does dig out her bar of soap in a nice resealable bag. She tosses it to him, too. The more somber bit of conversation as her shrugging slightly. "I don't like to think about it," she admits, sounding a bit uncertain all the same.

"Hope you don't either," Cate offers somberly to Van as she turns on the shower and starts working on getting clean. Trying to turn the dial back from 'depressing' she says, "I know Iz's dad is back on Tauron. Don't think you ever told me about your family, Netwon."

Van catches... drops, and then double-clutches the bar of soap, waiting a heartbeat to see if it's going to squirt out of his wet hands again, and then nodding to himself and stepping back to suds up. He nods at Isolde's words and Cate's offered hope, letting out a breath as the medic drags them up from depression-talk, "Oh, it's worse than that. Izzy's dad's a veteran marine Master Sergeant on Tauron." Apparently, he doesn't care if he's going to smell like Isolde, as he soaps up vigorously, sets the bar on the little tray attached to the shower nozzle, and then answers Cate's actual question, "Mother," yes, he calls his mom 'Mother,' "is the mayor back home, in Cape Bismark. My father is retired Navy, System Ops. The brothers and sisters..." he shrugs a little helplessly, "A little bit of everything. My little brother's a midshipman at the Academy."

Isolde just hangs out there on the counter listening. Van's clarification does draw a snort from her. "Stop using that tone when you talk about my dad. He's great, and would like you... if you stopped coming up with reasons not to be around when he calls in." Oh boy. "I have a mom and two siblings, too." She then looks back to Cate. "What about you, Cate?" Isolde does remember some of Cate's history, but she is all memory lapsed for the sake of conversation. She swings her feet a bit from her perch.

"Why is that such a bad thing?" Cate wonders about Iz's dad, before nodding slightly to the description of Van's family. "Oh, y'know, I think you did tell me once your mom was the mayor. That's cool. Big family." Her voice there is a little wistful. "Got some cousins and stuff, but otherwise - just me now." There's a beat, as she puts some shampoo into her hand then she asks Isolde, "Your mom work? Besides being a mom, of course."

"Because Taurons are scary, Marines are scary, and fathers-of-girlfriends are scary," is Van's answer. It is not as joking as he would like it to be, but still mostly joking. He nod-shrugs a little at the wistful tone, "Cousins are great, until there are too many of them. Just the right amount is just the right amount." His hair gets the bar of soap next, the dark spikes being short enough to just need soap (even if he usually uses shampoo and conditioner both), and then he ducks under the water, blowing out a breath and wiping at his face as he steps out again.

"Uh, okay... don't laugh," Isolde prefaces, holding up her hands. "My mom writes for a cooking e-magazine. She posts old family recipes and write about how to properly prepare duck eggs, and she sometimes uses the space to boast about her family. I mean, about her husband and her son and other daughter. I rarely ever make the cut." Not that Isolde sounds terribly disappointed by this. She stretches her toes a bit as she remains on her perch. She pleasantly ignores Van.

Cate aahs at Van's explanation. "Okay, yeah, I can see that." Isolde's explanation gets an arched eyebrow before she ducks her head under the water. "That's kind of neat actually. So refreshingly normal. Sucks that she doesn't brag about you more though - I mean, come on - tech and Raptor ECO, transferred to the spec ops group. Top that, Iz's brother."

The last point from Isolde gets Van to pry one eye open and point at her, "That's the other reason." He finishes rinsing off, then turns the heat up on the shower and ducks into it so it pounds down on his shoulders and back, letting a long, slow breath out, "Because, you'd think that. But apparently it's the Marines or nothing." He holds up one hand to forestall immediate defense from Isolde, "Not quite, I know. And yes, I remember you saying that your father was doing better now that you're on a combat arm."

"Oh, I'm sure I'll get invited to the family parties this year," Isolde teases as she remains perched on the sink edge. She then shakes her head slightly toward Van, and then she shrugs. "Dad wanted a family full of marines. Jia counts because she's a military shrink. I only started to count when I was enlisted." As an alternative to jail time! "But, it's working out for the best. I mean, I have friends now that aren't just on the Net." She grins broadly, dimples and all. Then she sinks off the sink with a small thud, wriggling her bare feet on the floor. With Van and Cate both showering, Isolde is the most dressed person here!

Cate brushes the suds out of her hair, then wipes the water from her face so she can squint at Isolde. "Wait, so - how come your sister gets a pass for being a Navy doc but you don't get a pass for being a Navy ECO? That's kinda weird." She sighs then, and says, "But at least you started to count. My dad would probably disown me if he knew I was here." Yeah, nevermind that she just said a few minutes ago that she was on her own. Technicalities.

Arriving in the head, Tucker's left shoulder is still bandaged up. But after three days in medbay, the scruff on his chin and cheeks is getting unbearably prickly and he's carrying his shaving kit in his good hand, preparing for an adventure of trying to shave one-handed. The Captain makes a note of Isolde at the sinks and offers a grin. "Well, I'll try not to take your spot." he offers with a small smirk as he moves to one of the vacant sinks.

Van shifts under the shower stream after a few moments of letting his shoulders soak, focusing it on his right thigh around the scar tissue there. "Because the Tauron Marines don't have shrinks apparently, Doc. They already know that they're all crazy and don't want to know how crazy they are." He chuckles along with those words, "I think she's okay now that she's an ECO, but somehow keeping all of us from being vented into space by a Toaster virus wasn't as worthy. Plus... friends who aren't just on the Net." Cate's mention of her dad draws a curious frown from Van, but he doesn't press, "Because you should be somewhere safe, Doc?" Tucker gets a vague, polite nod from Van as well as the other man enters.

"You just don't understand the stubborn pride of a Tauran father." Isolde doesn't seem deterred, as if accepting her plight. She looks up toward Cate with a small smile, but she lets the technicality slide. She settles into a lean on the sink, and she looks up toward Tucker when he comes in. She offers the man a brilliant little smile that gently activates her dimples. "Hey there. No spot to take. I'm done. Just socializing." In the head. With people who are showering. She glances toward Cate when Van offers a follow-up.

There's a soft snicker from Cate after Van's crack about the Taurans. But then she hears Tucker's voice by the sinks and blinks, staring for a long moment. It takes a second before she realizes that Van asked her a question. "What? Oh - um, no." Is there some way to melt into the wall? What sadistic frakker designed showers without curtains, anyway? She clears her throat and tries to offer a more coherent answer, her mouth pressing into a thin line. "The Royal Marines are pretty much public enemy number one back home. So... I'm not expecting any honorable mentions in cooking magazines or anything either."

Van and Cate are showering (separately!) and Isolde (in towel) and Tucker (with shaving kit) are by the sinks.

As he starts to turn on the water, Tucker hears a familiar voice, and the sound of the Medic brings a quick coloring to the Sagittaron's cheeks. "They're not exactly on my hit parade either." he offers quickly, with a smirk as he starts to set up, before offering in Celtan, "<<Didn't mean to suprirse you, Cate.>>" he manages, trying to pay attention to the shower and not take a gander towards the stall where Cate's trying to melt into the wall.

Van shakes his head at Isolde's words, "No, I really don't, and that's just fine." He rubs at his scarred knee under the hot water, then reaches out and shuts the water off, gathering up the towel on the rail before him and rubbing his hair dry, then his face, then starting in on his chest. It's just the showers, after all. And if he tries really, really hard, he can ignore the fact that Isolde and Cate are both there, not just women, but women that he knows. He nods slowly at Cate's response, gesturing over to Tucker at the use of the second language, "Ah yes. I understand that there are long-standing grudges," clearly he doesn't, since his next words are, "but haven't the Toasters pushed pretty much everyone down to no higher than number two?"

Calliope slouches into the Head, dressed in a tank top and sweat pants. She has that groggy look about her, like she just rolled out of bed. After not getting a very good night's sleep. She proceeds to one of the sinks and turns it on, splashing cold water on her face. Repeatedly. Like she's tempted to try and drown herself in that sink.

Isolde looks up as Calliope enters, and she grins toward the Raptor pilot. "Hey, Bullseye." She offers a little wink as the woman settles into a near-by sink. She waits several seconds before leaning over the pilot slightly, peeking into the sink. "I think that you might need to just get your whole head under there." Then she looks back toward the others in the showers, and she notes the slight awkwardness between Cate and Tucker. Her lips purse a bit, looking thoughtful. Then she shakes her head at Van at his words, and she offers a snort. "You don't know how compartmentalized someone's grudges can be."

"It's okay," Cate offers back to Tucker, sticking to standard. Although her expression suggests a level of awkward a step down from 'okay'. To Van, she supports Isolde's assessment by saying, "Yeah, not so much. Toasters are still a distant second for a lot of people, I think. I joined the enemy. So." She shrugs, then notices Calliope. But since the other pilot is trying to drown herself, she gets only a brief glance of concern. Cate hurriedly finishes cleaning herself off and then she, too, is grabbing a towel and drying off skin marred by a disturbing number of scars.

Fine, he peeked. And he notices those scars, and Tucker looks back to his mirror quickly, turning his attention to it quickly to make it look like he didn't peek as the water heats up and he starts to try to work up a lather to work into his scruff to shave it. "If it helps, Toasters are first in this for me." he offers up as he glances over at Calliope. "You alright?" he asks with a lift of his brow.

The response from Cate causes Van to shake his head harder, his lips bunching up into a frown, "That just..." He stops, shaking his head, then lets out a breath as he dries his legs and wraps the towel around his waist, nodding to Isolde. "It doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me. But it doesn't have to." He nods to Calliope, "You know, caffeine works better than cold water, Bullseye." For some people, at least.

Calliope picks her face out of the sink and gives her head a hard shake. Trying to jar her brain into place. "I am so totally frakked," she tells the mirror. Isolde gets an attempt at a smile that doesn't quite land. "That's the plan. If I die in the sink, remember me well." A soft, "Heh" at Van. "I'm not sure I want to be awake right now. I ran into this asshole reporter down on Canceron last night and I think he might've interviewed me." She sounds vaguely shell-shocked. As if this is a traumatic experience her brain is still processing.

"Why are you so totally frakked?" Isolde does show some concern for her friend, eyes widening a touch. Then she blinks when Calliope shares a fact that she may have been interviewed. She looks at Van, Cate and Tucker before she looks back to Calliope. "And you never said you were off the record, did you?" She frowns. "Did you even know he was a reporter?" While she is thankful for the distraction from the whole grudges versus cylons conversation, her concern for Calliope is genuine.

Cate hitches a shoulder in a shrug. The hair is dried a bit and then she wraps the towel around her chest in some closing-the-door-after-the-cow's-out-of-the-barn nod to modesty. She heads over to the bench where she left her clothes. "I'm not saying it's right, but... Hibernia doesn't have many Cylons. Humans are cheaper labor when you pay them shit, tax them to hell and back, and don't worry about silly little things like safety regulations." Bitter much? Nah. Why would you think that? "Hard to focus on a war happening on other colonies when you've been fighting one at home for the past century." Calliope's words cause Cate to glance in that direction, a tiny smirk tugging at her lips. But not even the funny remark is enough to completely shake the somberness from her face.

Moving the razor down the side of his face, there's a hiss of pain as Tucker nicks himself and hisses as he feels the blood well up in that spot as he looks to Cate. "...a little help?" he asks her, honestly, not just to you know, bring her closer. Though the comments about a reporter, he grunts. "Frakkin' hate the press. Always try to paint everything in extremes."

Van gathers up the bar of soap, returning it to Isolde's bag and then rinsing off his hand as he listens to the goings on. He frowns into the start of a retort to Cate's description of the situation on Hibernia, then shakes it off, then looks back to Calliope, "Some members of the press are excellent, a real boon for morale. Others..." he gestures toward Tucker, then looks back to Isolde and Calliope, "What do you think you said that got you in so much trouble?"

Calliope laughs, the kind of huffed kind that contains no humor, to Isolde. "Oh, yeah, he was super upfront about being a reporter. He just kind of ran at me with a recorder and started asking me about being a Caprican oppressor or whatever. I'm not oppressing anyone!" She lifts her head, to cast a wide, blue-eyed look around the Head. "I haven't oppressed any of you guys, have I? I took Inter-Colonial Studies in college! I try really hard to check my Caprican privilege, guys!" She says it so earnestly.

Isolde looks to Tucker as he tries to work the razor, and she grimaces slightly at the touch of blood. She glances to Cate as Tucker requests her, and she offers a sheepish smile. Then she slides off the sink and starts to finish dressing. She blinks slightly when she looks over toward Calliope. "Caprican oppressor?" She furrows her brow. "Wait, who's oppressing us?"

Cate frowns back at Van's silent frown, unhappily letting the matter drop as well since everyone else has shied away from it. Tucker's request gets a little nod. "Yeah just a sec." She's getting dressed first, pulling on tank tops and sweatpants. Isolde gets a sort of sheepish half-embarrassed look in return when she catches that smile. It takes Cate a second to realize that Calliope isn't joking, then she snorts a little. "Don't worry, Bullseye. You're good. Take it from someone who knows what it's like to be oppressed," she says dryly, still frowning. Calli may check her privilege, but Cate doesn't work too hard to check that chip on her shoulder.

"It's a Saturday, right? Who isn't oppressing us." Tucker offers dryly as he moves to wait for Cate to come join him - after she gets dressed most likely, because all those rumors would fly otherwise as he dabs at the cut on his face. "Reporters are stupid frakkers, just left it roll off of you like a bad date, Bullseye."

Van has no clothes in the head besides some skivvies and tanktops with the serious stink of the flight suit that is alongside them. Plus his boots, of course. So he just starts to gather up the nasty-scented clothes, "He thought that the aid we were sending was oppression? That seems to be trying rather hard to find something to be angry about. Or maybe a target they can hit, rather than the Toasters." The Picon doesn't appear overly concerned about Caprican oppression... but then again, he just admitted that his mother was a politician not more than a few minutes ago, so he should probably find a chance to check his own privilege.

Calliope has the sense to blush, at least, giving Cate a little shrug. "Thanks. It all just happened so fast. And he started asking me questions about Princess. Captain Graystone." This makes her wince. "Like, if we were going to 'turn her over' to 'stand trial for her families crimes' or some frak. I mean, I knew there were people who wanted to do things like that but..." She sags back against the sink, palms braced on it. "I mean, I had no idea what to say to that, except he needed to contact the press office. I mean, he was just some idiot reporter, but I hope nobody's seriously trying to make trouble for her."

That is when Isolde gets strangely defensive, shaking her head abruptly. "Paige isn't an oppressor. It isn't even her fault what the Graystones did. She's, like... a cousin or something. That would be like... putting someone on trial because their Uncle murdered someone." She scowls, crossing her arms at her chest as she looks down at her feet, obviously holding in some deeper emotions. She nods slightly. "Well, you did better than I woulda. I woulda punched him." She then finishes doing up her pants. She glances toward Cate, and she frowns slightly as she belatedly catches something the woman said about knowing what it is to be oppressed.

Cate almost smirks at Tucker's response. But then her nose crinkles at Calliope's tale, then she glances at Isolde. "You'd be surprised what people will blame uncles, cousins, nieces, for." Though the way Isolde looks down at her feet causes her to level a concerned look at her friend. They exchange frowns for a second before Cate finishes getting decent and heads over to help Tucker. "You're assuming I can do better at this than you can one handed," she tells him dryly.

"Just follow the lines, and if you knick me, you can kiss it better later." Tucker offers with a smirk. "Much later." he adds, so she doesn't go rabbiting off again. "It's not like you're trying to skin a deer, after all. Just a little pressure will do." he explains before frowning a little. "At least it's an honest conversation."

"That's ridiculous," is Van's trenchant and eloquent (not so much) response to Calliope's description of the reporter's demands. He nods to Isolde's response as well, "I think that I would have suggested that if he came after a member of the Colonial Fleet, who was trying to save them from the Toasters while he was asking questions on the ground, he could try to come after her through the rest of us. Which... probably would not have been a particularly political answer, all things considered."

Calliope laughs weakly to Isolde and Van. "I've never actually punched anyone in my life. Outside Basic, but they made me. And I wasn't very good at it. Hammerhead's helping me out with boxing, though, so maybe I can try if I run into that frakhole again. UGH. Poor Paige. Maybe he won't publish anything. Who would read bullshit like that?" Probably more people than she'd like to think.

Isolde doesn't seem to be giving into a calm, measured response at this point. She has to take several deep breaths through her nose, her entire body inflating and deflating before she seems to settle again. She slumps against the sink, giving her tank tops a could good tucks around her beltless waist. She looks over toward Calliope, looking almost apologetic. "We're probably going to run into that more and more until the Colonial Forces is, like, justified. They are probably judging our command structure a lot if there's even an inkling of more Capricans than anyone else." Then she sinks a bit in her seat. "I'm sorry, Cal... that's real shit though. I hope that you don't beat yourself up too bad, because, we all woulda done it or worse. We're fried and tired, and shoreleave really did nothing to fix that."

"It is bullshit," Cate agrees, lest anyone take her previous comment for some sort of endorsement of the reporter. "But yeah, I think you should get some kind of medal for not punching the guy." Tucker's suggestion earns him a look that's an odd mix of awkward and amused. "Hah hah very funny," she deadpans. But she's not fleeing so... progress? Maybe? "All right. Let me try this. If I accidentally cut an artery I'll fix it, don't worry." Also deadpan.

"Going to apply a tourniquet to my head? I thought it was swollen enough for you." Tuckere deadpans right back as he holds still for the medic to get to work. "Why not arrest all the Greystones? Then the Blackstones because they're in the same color group." there's a snort at that. "Sorry you got frakked like that without even a thank you, Bullseye."

"Plus, you're not a Tauron," Van chuckles to Calliope, glancing aside to Isolde as he does, a teasing grin sent toward the Tauron. "I would expect that he will publish whatever he has if he thinks it will get impressions." He steps up alongside the ECO, his flight suit, undershirts, and boots gathered up at his hip, pressing onto the section of towel tucked into itself. His right hand touches her left forearm lightly, and then he adds in, "I agree that you probably handled it just fine. It will calm as the civilian populace sees the Colonial Fleet defending them."

Calliope shrugs, cracking a slight smile at the otheres. "Thanks. At least I just escaped with my...not dignity, but I escaped. And hopefully that guy was just a nut and there won't be problems for Paige from, like, people who matter." Fingers crossed. "Ugh. I'm going to hit the showers." She grabs a towel and heads off in that direction. Stripping as she goes, because she isn't going to shower in her sweats. She'll be in there for awhile.

Isolde watches Calliope head off into the showers, and she glances to the others with a slight frown. "Total bullshit." She glances to Cate in affirmative before she huffs. The Raptor ECO crosses her arms and fumes softly to herself before she totally finishes dressing, with her belt and jacket finally in place. She looks aside to Van, and she takes in a deep breath. "I'm fine," she promises him even if he didn't actually ask. "Makes me want to stop playing bus driver though and get down to Canceron and do something."

The comment about the tourniquet actually gets a little smirk from Cate. "Oh ye of little faith in my surgical skills." She nods to Calliope as she heads off and then focuses her attention on trying to shave Tucker without injuring him. Her eyes flick to Isolde briefly. "Sure you'll have your chance soon enough, the way things are going. Though I'm not sure it's something to be looking forward to," she says, frowning.

"Plenty to do down there. I have a couple of more days before they'll let me go down there." Tucker responds as he turns his attention back to Cate. "Considering I have yet to see your surgical skills, I'll have to imagine what they're like. But if they're like your social skills, I should go ahead and write my last will now. I bequeath to you the implement of my death, the straight razor." he says with a grin up at her, before he sighs. "We're going to be busy for a while yet."

"From what I've seen, shuttle runs and SAR are exactly what the people down below need, Izzy." Either he's not quite sold on the 'Pi' callsign, or Van figures that he's beyond callsigns with the ECO. He frowns over at Tucker slightly, "What's wrong with Doc's social skills? I mean, unless there are Virgons involved. That's excused though, right?"

"I'm not looking forward to it," says the woman who just pretty much said she was looking forward to it. "I'm just hoping that I can do something useful." The ECO breathes out a heavy sigh before she looks over toward Tucker and then to Cate, and her brows raise. "Yeah, I mean... what's wrong with Cate's social skills?" Friends of Cate Unite. She does offer Van a look, brows up as if trying to convey something before she looks back at Tucker and Cate.

Cate looks a little stung by Tucker's comment, a slight furrow creasing her brow. Maybe because it's a little true. Or maybe because she just realized that the last time said surgical skills were put to use was trying (and failing) to help the other docs save poor ECO Damon. She says nothing, just watches to see his reaction to her friends' questions.

"I was teasing her a little.. but apparently crossed a line." In Celtan, Tucker looks up to Cate earnestly. "<<Sorry.>>" And with that, for a change, he's the one that's hurriedly washing his face to start to pull away from the medic in a retreat.

Van glances to Isolde, and something in that look sparks surprise in his features, quickly (poorly) covered up. He looks back to the Raptor pilot and the medic, his brows knotting thoughtfully. And then Tucker is saying something, and Van blinks, trying to wipe away the thoughtful look and clearing his throat, "Oh no, teasing is quite allowed. You just have to deal with her friends if you tease too hard."

Isolde shrugs slightly, and then offers both Tucker and Cate slightly apologetic smiles. She then slides off the sink completely, sinking into her feet once more. She grabs her cushioned socks and boots. "Not that we're that hard to deal with," she offers, trying to smooth over a situation that is growing slightly awkward. She clears her throat and gives Van's hip a bump. "Maybe we should go light your flightsuit on fire and then hit the mess." Because apparently the smell hasn't dissipated to Isolde's liking from Van's flightsuit. "You can join us if you want," she offers to Cate and Tucker, and her brows lift slightly toward Cate.

Cate misses the exchange of looks between Isolde and Van. She's too busy looking a bit bewildered as Tucker pulls away. She backs off to give him space, setting the razor down on the counter. She spares Isolde and Van a grateful - if a bit awkward - look for their support. "It's all right," she offers to Tucker's fleeing back, sounding a little uncertain. She latches onto Isolde's invitation like a life preserver. "Yeah, sure. Thanks."

"It's.. okay." Tucker frowns over his shoulder, sparing a glance to Cate and lowers his head as he ducks out of the head, retreating to Gods knows where.

Van glances over to Isolde, "Speak for yourself. I'm terrifying." Unfortunately, it's said in a cheerful-enough tone as to not be terrifying at all. He glances down to the flight suit, lifts it to give a sniff, makes a face, and lowers it quickly again, "It definitely needs a wash. And I probably should put on clothes before eating." Just the thought of wandering in the mess hall in Isolde's towel is enough to cause Van to blush a little, and he clears his throat, "Save me a seat? I'll catch up to you."

Isolde just shakes her head at Van, smirking a bit. "Yes. Really terrifying." The Tauron doesn't sound convinced as she gives him a light shove before she shrugs at the pilot. "Well, I guess... clothes are probably more hygienic for eating." She then offers Cate a small smile before she shrugs again. "I'll save you a seat," she says to Van. Then she turns back to Cate and arches up her brows.

Cate sighs as Tucker continues his retreat, pausing to rub the bridge of her nose and sigh. "Shit," she mumbles, before glancing over distractedly to Newton. "Terrifying?" She gives him an oh-please look. "But yeah, clothes are probably a good call. Eating naked would be awkward." Awkward like what she's feeling right now. She shoves her dirty clothes into a bag for later cleaning and leaves them somewhere, then glances to Isolde. "Ready?" Presuming yes, she's heading for the door.

"Why?" Isolde blinks. "I've eaten naked before." She does note the awkwardness settling around Cate, and she almost smiles as someone who has been there. Then she nods slightly. "Yup!" She glances to Van. "Don't be late and don't get distracted." She gives him a piercing, knowing look as she falls into stride with Cate, skipping a bit to catch up with the woman. She slides her hands into her pockets as she goes. "Now, you gotta tell me what that was about," she is saying to Cate as they duck out.

Van shrugs slightly, "It's not so bad when you're in private," is the pilot's addition to Isolde's comment. He nods to Cate, glances to Isolde and lifts his brows in silent question, and then nods and heads down the hall toward the berthings to get some clothes.

"You have?" Cate just gives Isolde - and then Van when he agrees - an odd look, then shakes her head and heads on out.

"Of course," Isolde says to Cate as they head out. "It's a very freeing experience." The Tauron is all smiles, which probably makes it harder to discern whether or not she's kidding.

"I'll take your word for it," Cate says, in a voice that suggests she's not going to be trying that any time soon. The question about what that was all about causes her to wince. She stuffs her hands into her own pockets and sighs. "He asked me out. I panicked and told him I didn't know if I was ready to date anyone. Now it's weird." A succinct and somewhat sad-sounding summary.

Isolde falls into stride with Cate, both with their hands in their pockets and Isolde looking a bit more concerned as Cate offers up a sigh and explanation. She tilts her head slightly. "Yeah, well... that's understandable, but, uh... whoever is, really?" She tilts her head. "You like him?" She arches up her brows high as she considers her friend again, keeping in stride for the mess.

Cate walks along beside Isolde. The question gets a brief smile. "Yeah, I do. He's sweet." A hand comes out of her pocket to wave back towards the head, "Occasional ill-advised teasing aside. Though he's kinda right. I'm not really very social these days. Not like I was." A helpless shrug there, and the hand is stuffed back into her pocket. "I just... I've had my heart broken so many times. With everything else going on right now, I dunno if I can deal with that again." They reach the mess hall - it's a small ship after all, and Cate opens the hatch.

Isolde waits for Cate to open the hatch and then heads on inside with the medic. She offers up a half-shrug. "Dunno if I'm going to be the best advice-giver in that regard. Do you not remember how many times Van and I frakked it up?" She steps into the mess, hands now out of her pocket. She starts to scope out the layout, again missing Galactica a bit more than is probably healthy. She looks back at Cate. "I'd say go for it. Could be worse. I mean, he could be a Virgon." She offers her a half-smile.

"Yeah but it's different," Cate insists glumly. "I mean, you just had trouble connecting. It's not like you had a bunch of guys rip your heart out." But then she regards her friend with earnest curiosity. "Or did you? I guess I shouldn't assume."

"No, but I'm a coward," Isolde points out ruefully. "I just played duck-and-cover until Van was assigned as my tour guide while on Picon. Then all Hell broke loose, and who has time to date when you're pretty sure the entire galaxy is ending?" She offers her friend a small smile. "I'm not trying to talk you into it, Cate. Frankly, after what happened to Kazimir... Gods, I don't know." She catches a bit of her inner cheek, looking a bit uncertain.

"You say coward I say smart girl," Cate says with a rueful smirk of her own. Then she grows more serious when Isolde mentions Kazimir. "He was that pilot that was killed a couple weeks back, yeah?" she asks glumly, filing into the line.

What a time to come back into a conversation. It doesn't take long to pull on duty greens, really the boots take the longest time to put on, and so Van catches up to the pair, approaching quickly and starting to smile... only for Kazimir to come up. He grunts softly, shaking his head a little and adding in, "Rammed a nuke with his fighter. Likely saved several thousand lives on the shipyards," at least in his view, "But it doesn't help him now. Or..." he stops then, grimacing a little harder, and peters out with, "...anyone he was seeing."

"Yeah... I don't know why he did that. I hear it tell that Finn was almost perfectly lined up for a shot on that other nuke." Isolde's voice is a mix of frustration and acceptance, and she starts glancing around at the offerings in the chowline. She doesn't seem all that hungry, but it was a suitable distraction. She looks at Van, offering a small and slightly awkward smile. "Yeah... I haven't had a chance to catch up with Niemec to see how she's doing..."

Cate loads up a plate, her brain telling her to eat even though events have put a dent in her appetite. She nods to Van's explanation. "Yeah. Guess he deserves props for that, even if he was a Virgon." She shrugs a bit, Isolde's comment about Kaz getting a curious look. Not up on all the pilot gossip. She frowns then and says, "I know Newton knows - I can't remember if I told you Iz... I had a thing for one of the pilots back at Triton. He got shot once. Bad. I had to take care of him. It..." Her jaw clenches for a moment. "It was really hard."

Van shrugs at Isolde's commentary on the situation, although he does put in, "She's on the duty roster. I think she's on a flight planet-side right now, in fact." He pauses, grimacing just a little, "I... haven't gotten a chance to check in with her off-duty though." He follows the two women through the line, gathering up his own food. He nods at Cate's mention of the earlier happenings, glancing past her to Isolde, his own shoulders tightening up as his mind wanders down a dark path of its own.

"Oh." Isolde follows suit, but focuses on the savories with the meat and veggies and just a bit of fruit. She looks at Van on one side of her and Cate at the other, and she offers a shrug and a deeper sigh. "Dunno, Cate... there's two ways to look at it... you avoid it because you don't want to get all tangled up in blue again, or you go for it and see if it at least can help lighten the load on your shoulders. Really is just two options, which can make it harder to decide." She glances to Van and gives him a small shoulder nudge.

"Yeah," Cate agrees glumly when Isolde lays out the options. She falls quiet then as she shuffles forward down the line, finally getting a cup of coffee to go with the food. Probably the most important part of the meal.

Mmm, coffee. Van loads up on that too, even as he's rocked a little by the shoulder-nudge from Isolde. He thinks back over her words, then looks over to Cate, "Oh, you like Flats? Maybe it's easy for me to say, but I say go for it." He looks around for a spot, then leads the way over toward an empty area, "If you want a wingman -- or two -- bring him along to eat with the three of us. Izzy and I'll be awkward enough that you two won't have a chance to be."

Isolde blinks at Van's idea of a double-date, but she then looks to Cate with a small smile and an even smaller shrug. "Yeah, and we promise not to make it worse." She laughs a bit sheepishly as she settles into a seat beside Van. She takes a deep breath, settling into herself again, and she starts the meticulous process ahead of her of separating her food. She works with her fork and spoon, beginning to make her piles. Each nudge of a pea seems to bring her a bit of peace.

A somewhat sheepish nod acknowledges Van's assumption. She settles into an empty seat at the table. "It's just - like I told Iz, after Evan, and Sean --" She frowns, rubbing the bridge of her nose again as she realizes the mistake her tired brain made. "- I mean Jacob. I just don't know if I can deal with that right now. But thanks. I appreciate the support." This said with an earnestly grateful look to both of them. She starts munching unenthusiastically on a baby carrot.

"I make no such promise. But I promise not to intentionally make it worse." Despite having spent a good deal of time around Isolde now, he still takes a moment to watch her start the process of separating her food, although he only watches for a moment before he settles a napkin into his lap and starts in on his own meal. The confusion as to the names draws a curious look from Van, but he doesn't press, at least not right now, instead nodding, "We also do 'butting the hell out,' although we're still practicing that one."

Isolde gives Van a look that would be much better suited over the rim of reading glasses. She instead just smiles ruefully to Cate, and resumes her food divisions. She doesn't even look up as she bunches carrots and orange peppers together. "The hell you say. I don't butt the hell out of anything." She does look up slightly with a smile before she puts her tomatoes and radishes together.

Cate offers a wan smile. "You don't have to butt the hell out. It's fine." She pokes at her food a bit before changing the subject. "So how long you think we'll be on Canceron this time?" And how bout them C-Bucs?

Fade.


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