The men and women of the Wolf Pack help to entertain and lift spirits on Canceron.
Location: Kunnar Provence - Canceron
Related Scenes: None
Scene Number: 758
The tent camp is in better spirits this evening, though there is a general wave of unease. There's already rumours in the camp of the recent Cylon attacks, and that they are getting closer to the city, but the heavy presence of the Colonial Forces and Canceron Military has kept things mostly at ease.
With several large open canopies set up, there's a bit of a celebration going on. A general happiness to be alive, that the worst from the storm seems to be open, and now the process of rebuilding can begin in earnest. Several small campfires have been set up, and the smell from the largest canopy comes from several large cooking pots - filled with crawfish, potatoes and corn on the boil. There's also a few pigs on spits, and there is a small stage that has been set up for entertainment. The finishing touches of a dancefloor made of pallets and cardboard is quickly finished as already there's some of the locals that are playing, while others are attempting to coax others from the Forces and Militia to help with enetertainment as well.
Sergeant Lyn Arda isn't here to entertain, that's for sure. No one knows about her super secret hobby of baking, and she'd like to keep it that way. However, she is under the food tent, where she is preparing to help dish out chow to the masses. Her hair has been drawn back into an elastic at the nape of her neck so it doesn't end up in the crawfish boil, and she has an apron on over her off duty gear. She has a big metal spoon in her hand that she wields like a scepter as she helps direct volunteers hither and yon towards people who can answer their questions.
Cap's good spirit continues, and the celebrations both reinforce it and give her an opportunity to share this refound enthusiasm. Aside from her time with various local children, the recent CAP she flew saw a pretty impressive dusting of a cylon ground patrol, and, ever the storyteller, she's been happy to recount this tale to anyone who cares to hear. The cylons may be getting closer and appearing in greater numbers, but she makes sure every rumor she hears of that, every concerned question from a member of the camp, is met with her own tale of Cylon losses at Colonial hands. She doesn't promise perfect safety in an unsafe world, but she reminds everyone that she and her comrades are out and about, taking up the fight wherever they find it.
As for the party itself, well, this is definitely Cap's speed. The local cuisine may be different, but a cookout atmosphere is similar anywhere you go - and a roast pig is a roast pig! And while she's probably been happy to help with the cooking early on, her destiny is with the entertainment. Someone has surely spotted her playing guitar for campfire singalongs for the kids before, and so she's been duly pressed into duty to help with the music tonight as well. Nothing fancy, of course, but she can strum along a dance tune ably enough.
Tucker has his roll-up piano with him, but found in one of the stores was a working keyboard that has been set up, so that is where he has gone, to help with the setup at the tent to get the music playing. He's tuning up at the moment with a jazzy little diddy from Sagittaron, working on picking up the spirits and coax people out to dance.
Already, the chow line is moving along, Lyn getting a good work out with her ladel as a group of children from the orphanage that Cap helped out several days ago are making their way through before seeking out the young woman that has become a defacto leader. Some of them are even little pilot wings and carrying small Viper toys, making noises as they chase each other, pretending to be in contact, and everyone wants to be Babyface, that is until they start hearing about cooler callsigns. Razor is a popular choice. As is Bullseye. Flats? Not so much.
There are local merchants that are able to recover some of the goods that are making them available for sale. Handcrafted goods for the most part, including a seamstress that has gained some noterity with repairing Colonial uniform, sewing in new patches and making alertations. There's also quite a few hand-knitted items for sale, including shaws, blankets and the like.
Lyn serves the kids with a small smile on her face. She isn't the happy poster child for the Marines. She's the ghost in the night that hunts things down. Too scary for a children's story, that, so she just scoops and dishes the food, encouraging the wee ones to move along and find their heroes. She taps a foot along to Tucker's playing.
The kids, of course, are just too adorable. When they get a break in the last song, Cap is accosted by a few of them, and gets to weigh in on the Viper toys and makeshift uniforms. She is suitably impressed with all of them, though, where the toys are hand-made or personally modified with stickers, paint jobs, or other adjustments, she may offer a suggestion or two. She has some other stories for them, and grand things to imagine: "Oh, if you think the Vipers are cool, just think about Vanguard, that's our ship up there," and she nods up toward the star-filled sky, "or even Galactica! It's a Battlestar, one of our flagships. And it's way tougher than even a Cylon basestar, like a big fortress in space!"
There's gasps and oos and aahs from the kids. "Are you in charge?" one of them ventures to Cap. "I bet you're the best pilot in the whole Colonial Fleet!" Another one announces. "Can you take us flying?" comes another, as the young woman is barraged with questions and ideas, many of them coming over to Cap from the chow line immediately as her exploits of single-handedly destroying a Basestar of Cylons just the other night are getting out.
Over at the piano, Tucker continues to play and gives Lyn a grin as he notices the foottapping. "Careful, you might actually smile for once." he teases her as he casts a wink in her direction.
The sound of a shot breaks the stillness - but it was expected. Several of the local forces are training the adults and those with experience how to use the rifles from the local bases. Though even that comes with a heavy dose of concern. Will the Vanguard be pulling out soon? Will the civilians be left on their own against the Cylon advance. When will follow on help arrive? It's these thoughts that are going through Tucker's mind as he continues to play that lively jazz tune, a glance out into the small crowd on occassion in the hopes of catching the eye of someone not yet arrived. "Got a request, Ghost?"
Lyn snorts, hearing Cap talk to the kids. Definitely better the Viper pilot than her. Her opinion of the Vanguard is more akin to a floating asylum. Then she grunts at Tucker. "Now no one wants me to smile. That might cause the apocalypse," she warns. The wink is given a shaking of the metal spoon mock-threateningly. As for a request, she grimaces. "Something to lift their spirits. Even before the flood and the Cylons, this place has had some rough times." Dealing with the former miner revolutionaries has left Arda at a loss. All the help they are giving against outside forces, can't resolve the internal conflicts of Canceron.
Well that earns a genuine laugh from Cap, and she shakes her head. "No, I'm not in charge, because I haven't been in the military all that long. But the big officers, like Admiral Bauer - she's in charge of Galactica and the fleet! - they have been and they're very good at their jobs." She grins. "And I'm not the very best pilot either. But you know what that means? There's plenty of people every bit as good as me or better, like Major Webb - he's SPIDER, isn't that cool? - and they'll be in all the other Vipers when you see us flying overhead. So there's a whole lot of good people, out doing our best to keep you safe." Of course, she doesn't bother trying to disuade them of every childish notion or trample all their wild ideas (like the single-handed destruction of many basestars and other such things), there's a limit to what you can explain to children so she just tries to give them the biggest picture. Mighty Galactica and her Admiral, all of Cap's amazing squadmates, etc.
The questions for Cap are still there, one of them being "Do you get cooler callsigns with the more Cylons you shoot down?" comes one child's question as there's more questions about dogfights, and of course noone wants to be the Cylons, but they're bringing out rolls of tinfoil, offering to wrap Cap up in it so she can be the Cylon and be the enemy they fight with. Tickle fight, of course.
Coming back into the camp, Sergeant Beckham Dorn is leading a small group he took out on horses, the bandaged up right arm of the medic preventing him from showing off his horse riding skills as he has taken to leading some of the kids on horseback tours around the camp. He stays long enough to switch out one group for another, loading them into a small wagon before taking them out again.
There's a chuckle from Tucker. "Well, I'm from Sagittaron, so I don't know much about the local flavor, but I'll see about giving us some of that pep!" he offers, playing an uptempo number that's bound to get a few feet tapping and hips swaying as the pianist turned pilot works the keyboard on the second song of his current three song set while waiting for someone else to prepare to take over.
The shooting outside of the city continues, leading Tucker to asks, "I'm surprised you're not out there helping train. Who did you lose a bet to in order to end up slinging hash instead?"
Lyn's turn at the food line is over, and her relief claims the spoon from her. She almost looks reluctant to relinquish it. The apron is untied and she wipes her hands on it, before fixing a couple of plates and bringing one over to Tucker. "Thought you might need some fuel, Flats. Not all of us can run on youthful enthusiasm." She smirks, glancing over at Cap with just a tiny bit of jealousy at the young woman's shining excitement.
At the question the Marine shrugs. "I'm a little too specialized to train them in what I'm good at. Plus, I don't want to show off all my skills here. I like to be a little mysterious." It's her turn to wink.
She's probably late to the party, but such is life, as Tamlin finally ducks out of a raptor touching down near the camp, bringing the next wave of military down to the ground for the morale boost. Tamlin hasn't really dressed for the occasion, but she has switched out of her coveralls to a set of duty greens, a large black case hanging from her shoulder, which gets jostled as a marine pushes past her, "Hey! Don't knock into her...she doesn't like it." Finally, she hops down to the ground, taking a minute to get a lay of the land.
"You get callsigns for all kinds of things, any kind of famous thing you might do, I guess. They're fancy nicknames. But if you shoot down a lot of cylons, you get to be an Ace, or over time you might get promoted, too. You know Major Webb is tough 'cause he's a Major!" Cap may offer a little more about ranks and medals and all of those kinds of shiny things that kids tend to fixate on, though she carefully declines to actually be wrapped up in tinfoil (if anything, it's a little wasteful, beside the threat of being aggressively tickled by a bunch of young lads trying to get away with something!). She does offer and help construct a few raiders out of some of the scrap bits on hand, so they have enemies to match their existing toys. Of course, she's happy to pawn off some of the more energetic sorts on the Sergeant if she can. Horses! Wagons! Look how fun!
Beckham easily takes some of them and grins down at Cap. "Us Marines, we don't get callsigns, so don't ask us." he offers up. "But if you ask Babyface nicely.. she might give you each your own!" There's a sorry/not sorry look given to Cap as he notices his wife setting up. Tamlin earns a smile and he lifts two fingers to his lips in a kiss and waves it to her when she catches his eye before he's leading the wagon out on a ride.
And of course, now that Cap is talking about medals and ranks, they want to form their own little air wing! See, they have Vipers. They have uniforms. All they need is ranks and callsigns now!
"Oooh, secretive. I'm sure the guys like that mysterious edge to you, Ghost." Tucker offers to the sergeant as he gestures to a table for the food. "I see Petty Officer Dorn setting up for her turn up here, so I'll have a break and can chow down soon enough."
Being on time is for nerds anyway. Geoff at least arrivees before he was supposed to go on. That's early enough, right? He is for once wearing clothes that weren't given to him when he joined the Marines: a simple black ensemble that's easy to move in.
Lyn grunts at Tucker again and shakes her head. "Do I look like I have time to flirt with little boys?" She pokes at her food, trying to get over the appearance of the crawfish that, to an Aquarian, look like some sort of bugs. Gross. "They're all way too young for me, Flats. I'm not ancient or anything, but these kids are....kids."
Tamlin frowns, as she sees the stage that's been set up, clearly pondering where she'll put herself. A flash of a smile, as she heads over to the stage, seeing Beckham heading off, and he gets a wave, before Tamlin's hopping up and heading over towards the piano. "Don't mind if I set up in front of you, do you?" That's to the JiG who's the current act. She knows him by face and name, but doesn't know him personally. Tamlin turns, finding a nice spot to sit on that hasn't, hopefully, been marred but too much foot traffic. The case is set down, and she opens it to bring out a small, almost lap-sized Celtan harp.
Naturally, ranks and callsigns and all of that will be required. Cap helps them select a few, although obviously with a kinder approach and more attention toward cool factor than real pilots might get away with. A few get appropriate animal names, a Wolf here, a Rabbit here for an appropriately energetic girl, and others appropriate physical ones, such as a redhead who gets to be Flames, or Ogre, the biggest of the lads. A couple others she just picks cool sounding thing: Blastoff, Deadeye, Trasher! And soon enough, with that, the battle will be on, with Cap helping them get into formations and setting up an -actual- toaster she finds at the end of the little field to be the basestar. Soon, there will be much running and shouting and loud "pew pew, you're dead, no I'm not!" and so forth.
"Entering my last set anyway, Petty Officer. Nice harp." Tucker offers to Tamlin as he starts to play the last of his songs for the moment, a cheerful and upbeat jazz number. Those from Sagittaron will recognize it as a song of independence, one that was popoular before the civil war that tore the planet apart and into protectorates.
To Lyn, Tucker laughs. "If you make a comment about your biological clock, I'll buy you a shaw and find you a stray cat to start your collection." he says with a smirk. "I don't think think all the guys on the Vanguard are younger than you. Just might have to know you exist first. Hard to do when you're a ghost." he points out as he continues to play.
And Cap has completely created a Kiddie Air Wing on Canceron, with her as their own little poster girl. Just wait until they meet one of the real poser girls as they run around pew-pewing. Geoff gets a lift of Tucker's head in greetings as he continues to play through his last song.
Lyn munches on corn and potatoes, still sort of skirting around the mudbugs on her plate, and watches the kids playing Viper pilots. "I hope by the time those little ones grow up, we won't need them to fight a war," she murmurs. Then she barks out a brief laugh. "I like being a ghost. It's less annoying. I grew up at Arctic Station Thule. I'm used to things being lonely and quiet and peaceful." She frowns. "And cold. Really cold." She nods to Geoff in greeting.
Cate wanders into the celebration area. Her uniform and the stethoscope still draped around her neck probably suggests that she's on duty to some degree, but she's escaped from the med tent long enough to come see the party. She smiles a little when she sees Tucker and Tamlin up on stage, but it's Cap that she gravitates over toward. "You've got your own little squadron there," she observes to the pilot.
Geoff maybe signed up a little last-minute. He doesn't seem to have any idea where he's supposed to be, so he ambles up toward Lyn, trying not to get between Tucker and the audience too much. "So what's actually going on?" he wonders.
Eventually the kids probably get wound up enough in each other that Cap can at least escape to the sidelines, playing the occasional role of referee so they don't murder each other or go spilling out into the rest of the gathering, yet otherwise content to watch from the sidelines as they play. It's good fun, and the parents should be thankful if they tire themselves out a bit in the process. Cate's approach has her glancing over with a grin. "Seems that way," she half-says, half-laughs. "Good bunch of kids, though. They're troopers to be brave through all this and not make it any harder on their parents."
Tamlin is sitting legs out, knees bend, the harp on the stage between them, classic harpist's pose, when they're playing on the ground. The instrument is far too small for her to sit comfortably on a chair, but slightly to large to rest stabley on her leg. So the floor it is. An occasional glance up as people move and gather, a hand rising to greet Cate in passing, before she turns her attention to ensuring the instrument is in tune.
"We're just winding down a bit. Been a couple of hard weeks, so, a bit of a break. Feel free to join in." Tucker offers to Geoff before noticing Cate in the crowd. He finishes his song and grins, moving the microphone for the young woman to use. "I'm going to take a little break, but before I do, let me introduce the next act on stage. This is Petty Officer Tamlin Dorn and her Celtan harp. Not as upbeat as me, but it's beautiful in it's own way." The young woman is offered a smile before he moves to step off the stage, taking the plate of food before seeking out Cate, a light touch to her shoulder and kiss pressed to the medic's cheek. "Hey."
Lyn smirks at Geoff. "All you fine folks with actual talents outside of killing toasters are putting on a show. The rest of us grunts are dishing out chow and such." She helped set up the kitchen and dish out the first round of food to the younger kids. Now she's eating. "Get some grub, are you performing?" She gives Tucker a little farewell salute.
"Join in?" Geoff echoes, eyeing the harp. "I mean..." He looks to Lyn. "I guess it depends." Not exactly the sort of setup you'd encounter in a Caprican nightclub.
Cate nods to Cap. "Yeah that's cool of you to do that. It's amazing how kids can bounce back." She offers a little encouraging wave up to Tamlin off stage, her eyebrows perking up when she hears that Tamlin is playing the Celtan harp. She looks over when Tucker comes up to greet her, offering a little smile. "Hey. That was good - I caught the tail end of it."
Tamlin looks over, as the JiG stands up from the piano, moving to get the case out of her way, using it to flip the pilot the bird. Because this is how a deckie shows comaradarie and fellow feeling for her squadronmates, apparently. She doesn't look put out by his comment, though, as she sets in to play, adjusting the microphone so that it can amplify the sound of the stringed instrument. Once everything is set just so, she sets into a rollicking celtan jig, perfect for the flash and fancy of one of the more traditional dances of Hibernia.
"You can have my crawfish, if you want," Lyn offers Geoff. She ate the potatoes and the corn, but the weird tiny lobster-looking critters are too creepy looking for her to try. Not nearly warm enough where's she's from for them.
"Oh, it's not too much for me to do. We always had kids running around back home. Farm families are usually big families, and it's not just you, but the neighbors and relations and all of that. And they're quite the bunch. If anything, they're helping me feel better." Cap, though far from motherly, steps into the big sister role rather easily, and just beams over the whole gang of them as they run about playing. "They do. I think they've still got, I don't know, more energy, more spark, more room to grow and adapt. They basically can't do anything but take whatever comes, after all, so they have to be able to deal with it. Maybe it's a good lesson for us." As things with the kids slow, and Tucker comes over to Cate, she likewise turns that way and gives him a nod. "We're not lacking for musical talent, for sure. Nice to hear all the different styles, everyone's hometown tunes."
Tamlin's salute is returned with Tucker's own, as she starts to play. "She's not half-good." Which is his way of saying she's pretty good. The contact with Cate is brief, as he moves to set down his plate, and take up one of the crustaceans. He snaps it in half, pulling the meat from the tail and eats that before he puts the front of body to his mouth and sucks the meat from the head area before tossing them away.
Geoff takes the plate and eyes the crawfish. "How do you eat it?" he asks. "Not like...whole?" Apparently he doesn't have much experience with crawfish either.
Tamlin, once she's actually into the heart of the song, doesn't seem to notice much beyond the instrument, her hands, the notes. She could have an audience or none at all. her head is slightly bowed, her posture quiet, relaxed, quite the opposite to the speed and lyric quality of the song. It lasts perhaps a few stanza's longer, before she pauses, the second song more...well, what one might expect from the instrument, light, and bright, and soothing.
Lyn lifts her shoulders in a shrug at Geoff. "People in the kitchen were breaking off the tails, peeling and eating them, but then they did something with the heads and I bought lost my lunch." She shudders.
Cate's eyes for Tucker's plate remind Cap that she should actually eat. It takes energy to herd munchkins, after all. The other woman's question earns a shrug - they must not be a specialty where she's from, rustic as it may have been. "Some kind of, yeah, probably," she hazards in similar guess. But really, the only test is to eat them. So soon she collects a plate and moves to the chow line as well, her appetite as strong as ever. And when when it comes to try one of the critters, she'll simply mimic what seems local custom for eating them: break tail, suck out the good stuff! And she's not shy to slurp.
Arriving at the makeshift party spot is Darcy, wearing most of her duty uniform, sans the blouse. Her attention initially shifts towards the live performance being put on, but her path takes her mainly over towards the buffet table and the collection of local cuisine that has been set out.
"Well how the frak do you peel 'em with a plate in your hands?" Geoff wants to know. He pokes at the cooked creature with a forefinger, then balances his plate on the edge of the stage and tries his hand at cracking one apart.
Now that Cap is free, she can wander about now that the children are off playing 'Air Wing' all on their own. At the question, Tucker chuckles. "They're called mudbugs." he says, as he cracks one open, pinching the tail to pull the meat out to offer to Cate. Before he does that thing that Lyn called disgusting, taking the other half of the body to suck the rest of the meat and brains out of the front half of the crayfish before possing it aside.
Then when Cate joins in, the pilot grins. Though he reserves any and all comment as he glances towards the harp playing. "If you want, after we eat, may I have a dance with you, Corporal?"
"Probably easier if you sit at a table, Courtois," Lyn quips, nudging him towards one and heading to take a seat at it herself. She has something to drink and seems to be satisfied with that for now.
As most of the people now, sans the children, seem to be enjoying the food being provided, Tamlin continues the background music. She moves from colony to colony, in terms of musical style, giving a little flavour for everyone. A sure sign that she spent more than a few years studying at a conservatory, where they actually make you do that sort of thing.
Cate makes a face as she sees how Cap eats the little crayfish. "They're kind of creepy." Still, she shrugs and takes the bit of meat Tucker offers. "Mm. Not bad I guess. But I'm not sucking their innards out." Tucker's invitation gets a surprised smile. She looks around, discovering that there are in fact some people dancing to Tamlin's music over on the makeshift dance floor. "Love to."
"Fine," Geoff says, picking up his plate and moves off toward the table Lyn is shepherding him toward. "I didn't really think about this many kids being around," he says, by the by.
"Foodsh' food," Cap says, around a mouthful of crawfish, none too worried over delicate etiquette. "S'good!" She picks hers apart fairly aggressively, and tosses the hollowed shell bits into some nearby waste. Though really, it isn't the 'mudbugs' she's most excited for, but some of that spitroasted pig. That one's a classic anywhere in the colonies (OK maybe the Capricans might turn their noses up if it wasn't then delicately carved and served on fine dishes?), and it just looks so good. So as Tucker and Cate head off, she goes to get a few nice slices piled onto her plate. Girl's eyes are wide at the sight of it, mouth almost visibly watering. Omnom.
"Makes you feel a little less casual about helping out, right?" Lyn responds to Geoff. "We need to get the Toasters off this planet. Out of the system. This is what we're protecting." She sips her drink and watches the couples dancing through narrowed eyes. "There might be a whole lot more kids here 9 months from now."
A bit of bread, some pork, and a bit of vegetables are all collected on Darcy's plate once she's had a chance to make her way through the chow line, "Yeah, they're not all that appealling looking to eat, are they?" she comments with a quick glance towards the crawfish that seem to be the topic of conversation, "Though if you're hungry enough everything looks good doesn't it?"
Geoff rolls a shoulder at Lyn, but he doesn't disagree. "I mean it's not like I've been faking it," he says. He finally gets the crawfish to give up some meat and shoves that in his mouth.
The pig is totally ready to be served. In fact, there's already some Cancerons moving around passing out slabs of the meat to cut apart liberally. Once their plates are done, Tucker rises, offering his arm to lead Cate out onto the dance floor and joins her in the movements of the lively song that Tamlin is playing on her harp, a smile shared with the woman. "If I turn out to be terrible, I play, I don't dance." he admits.
"I know you haven't. Just getting stuck in my own head lately. Had a chat with the Chaplain in the gym yesterday," Lyn notes to Geoff. "That situation with the miners just bothers me. We can help with the flooding and the Cylons, but we can't interfere in the local mini war going on with the mines."
With the dancefloor filling up now, Tamlin shifts her focus, looking now between the dancers, improvising something that might be suitable for whomever is on the floor, slow on occasion, sprightly at others. There's no single colonial sound in her playing now, she's just cherry-picking whatever sounds good, putting it together, and making something new.
Cate smirks a little at Cap's remark before she's being led off to the dance floor. "I'm not much of a dancer either, so don't worry. If I step on your toes with my combat boots, I apologize in advance." She gets into a dance hold and starts shuffling around the floor without much skill. There's a somber note in her voice when she asks, "Does it bother you at all - having a party? I mean, after everything that's happened?"
"I mean, I feel like I don't understand the whole thing," Geoff admits to Lyn. "I'm just glad nobody got frakkin' killed and we got the Preacher back."
"I know what you mean!" Cap offers back at Darcy as the other woman works through the line behind her. "But really, they're pretty good, once you get past the bug-looking outside." The description might not be helping. "But there's plenty of other stuff, anyway." Like the pig! Oh, she's so happy with her plate once it's piled with some of that, and goes looking for somewhere to park and chow down.
"Definitely." Lyn finishes her drink and stands. "I'm going to go visit the merchants, see what's good to buy. Good luck on your performance, kid." She smiles.
Though Kell may be late to the Canceron Refugee Entertainment gathering, duty called and that takes precedence. However, once he finished another Alert-Five slot, the Libran boards the next Raptor that was heading groundside after changing into more comfortable attire, namely the brown tank-top style piece of a grey shortsleeved t-short. The fatigue pants and jacket completes his outfit but the latter is left unbuttoned and open in the front. The tent camp is pretty crowded and large, something that Kell isn't used to, at least to this scale. However, the celebratory atmosphere definitely helps put the young Ensign at ease as he slowly walks through the area, head turning left and right to take in the festivities. The smell of fresh, hot food does draw him. Much better than ship fare or military rations, that's for sure.
"...you know how many celebrations we held on Sagittaron.. for any reason." Tucker admits, shifting to set his hands on the medic's hips as he moves Cate around the dancefloor to Tamlin's ever-evolving tune. "I look at it this way.. we can sit here and have the doom and gloom.. knowing that the Cylons are near, but at the same time, hope is a powerful weapon." he points out gently. "And these things, they inspire hope."
"I'm sure they are delicious." Darcy says with a quick grin at Cap, "I suppose trying one can't hurt, but.." She gives them a skeptical look before loading a singular crawfish upon her plate, "Looks like I better finish and eat before the dancing really kicks off." Her gaze drifting out towards that makeshift dancefloor before she starts off to find herself a spot to sit.
Cate shrugs a little as she shuffles along with Tucker on the dance floor. "I mean, I'm not saying nobody should ever have a party because there's a war on. Just... I dunno, celebrating so soon after what - tens of thousands of people died." She presses her lips together. "I just don't want to be disrespectful. But I don't want to rain on their hope either, so..." So here she is, dancing. Trying. Even if she doesn't much feel like celebrating.
Cap glances out toward the dancefloor too, but hardly seems in any rush to hurry her meal just to get out there. Food like this, it's something to be savored! "Oh I'm sure they'll be at it long into the night," she murmurs. "S'got that kind of feeling tonight." A feeling she's learned can proceed imminent doom and gloom, but that's something to worry over when the time comes. Amidst chow-talk, a newly-arrived pilot is spotted, and she gives Kell a wave-down. "Enisgn, turns out you're real popular with the kids - or at least they like your callsign."
While the rest of the party continues, with eating, dancing, laughter, and the hope of children, Tamlin, indefatigable, continues on the stage, taking only short breaks between songs, long enough to give her hands a moment's rest, before she begins again. Now that she's simply improvising, and she'd had ample time to warm up, she has more attention for the people out on the floor.
"Maybe it's a celebration of life, Cate.. of the fact that they're still here." Tucker frowns as he slows the dance, realizing her reluctance. "Look, I need to see the CAG about something. I just.. wanted to spend a moment down here. And to see a smile." he shrugs finally as he pulls back from her. "I'll be back soon."
Left alone at the table when Lyn gets up to help herself to some of that pork, Geoff reaches in a pocket to get a pack of cigarettes out and lights up.
Cate frowns as well. "I'm sorry. Didn't mean to bring the doom and gloom." Looking a bit guilty, Cate nods when Tucker excuses himself. She sighs and then looks around. Spying Geoff over at the table, she heads that way. "Hey," she greets.
A familiar face in this sea of people is certainly a relief for Kell when he hears and then sees Cap waving in his direction. He changes his heading slightly and instead of aimlessly wandering, approaches the other Viper pilot with a smile, still stealing glances from side to side as he walks. "Popular with the ki..." When his callsign is mentioned, there is a slight furrowing of his brows, "Really. I guess Razor can catch on pretty quickly." No hints there about how he got his callsign, a very neutral answer.
Calliope is just arriving, also having come off her shift on the Vanguard not long ago. And taken the time to shower after. She's in a green CF-issue t-shirt and matching trousers, hair hastily dried and brushed. It's still hanging half flying away around her shoulders, but at least she's got it down. She moves into the crowd, to mingle.
"Yeah, they're all playing Vipers and Raiders these days, got their own squad and everything." Cap doesn't mention the degree to which she encouraged this behavior, acting like it just sprung up out of the ether. "Don't worry, I didn't tell them you cut yourself shaving or whatever the real reason behind it is! They just think you're super badass and cool," she reassures the other young pilot over his cagey reaction. Then she thumbs to one side, as her and Darcy are kind of seated a bit beyond one end of the chow line. "Lots of food." Not that it isn't obvious.
Geoff lifts a hand to greet Cate. "Hey," he says. "What's up? I saw you finally dancing with that guy..." He grins, tone either excited for her or teasing, however one chooses to interpret it.
Cate slides into a chair at Geoff's table. She snorts a little when he mentions the dancing. "Yeah. It'd be great if I could get through one conversation without putting my foot in my mouth. Anyway, how're you?"
Cap appears to be very observant and Kell was about to voice objections on how he received his callsign, but then he is smart enough to realize any protests would basically seal his fate, if it wasn't already sealed to begin with. "Yeah... maybe when they get older, they'll be interested in joining up." If they can get off of their feet after this disaster but that isn't something the Ensign is mindful of at the moment. Looking over to where all of the food is prepared, Kell's eyes widen slightly, finally locating the source of the fantastic aroma that he picked up after leaving the Raptor that he rode down on. "I think I'll go grab some." He does offer Darcy a nod in agreeing, another fellow pilot. "I'll be right back." And he's off to grab a plate and join the line of people.
Calliope ends up in the line 'o food. Behind Kell, as it happens. "Draygo, right?" She sounds reasonably sure of the guess. "Nice to get down here for a few hours where things aren't blowing up." She's kind of tempting fate by saying. And so pipes down, and gets a plate.
Geoff snorts smoke through his nostrils. "Don't worry about it," he says. "He's probably so worried about what to say to you that he doesn't even hear it. You can tell he likes you."
Hearing someone say his name behind him, Kell turns around and nods his head at the query, "Ensign Kell Draygo, new transfer. Arrived onto the Vanguard right before we shipped out to help the people here." There is a pause before he adds to the introduction, "Feel free to call me Kell or Razor." As for her words, he nods and grins, "True enough, a nice change of pace instead of just hauling supplies down or helping with the rescue ops. I think everyone can use a morale boost like this after having to stare at the devastation for so long." As the line moves, the two pilots are up to fill their plate. The Libran has no trouble grabbing some vegetables and a couple of slabs of roast pig, but when the tray of crawfish is next, he pauses and just stares at the cooked creatures.
Cate hitches a shoulder. "Nah, I'm pretty sure he heard. But it's okay. It'll sort itself out." She allows herself a little smile. "I like him too." The smile is fleeting, and she says, "I heard the chaplain made it out okay."
Geoff lifts an interested eyebrow at Cate. "/Are/ you now?" he asks. "Good, I'm glad you're into it. First time you turned him down like a hotel bed I was gonna ask you if you were /married/ or somethin'." He lets out a breath. "Thank everything frakkin' holy," he says. "He had me sweating, pulling that kind of thing."
Calliope gives Kell another nod and settles her plate. She then wanders off into the party to mingle.
Cate chuckles softly. "I didn't think he was serious - I thought he was just messing around. C'mon, you've seen how the guys in the company are." She shrugs, then gets back to talking about the chaplain. "What was he doing anyway? I never got the whole story."
Kell is acutally bold enough to take some of the crawfish though he has a very skeptical expression on his face. With his plate more or less full, he now moves to find an free area to sit and enjoy the fare, most likely leaving the small crustaceans for last.
"Somebody let some supplies get stolen by those, like, miner rebels or whatever?" Geoff answer Cate, shrugging. "And the Preacher and I, we really didn't want anybody to get killed over it, so we like...went to negotiate, and he ended up volunteering as a hostage."
Cate shakes her head, frowning. "What the frak was he thinking." Not that she really expects him to have an answer. She rubs her face for a moment, and says, "Well. I'm glad he's all right. I've gotta get back to work. You enjoy the rest of the shindig."