Tavo and Rothschild go for a walk after the pilots' party in the Crew Lounge.
Location: Corridors, Cutter //Vanguard//
Related Scenes: None
Scene Number: 1070
Rothschild watches as the pilots start to disperse. "Good luck tomorrow," she offers as they retreat. She does glare slightly at the cake left behind, and very purposefully stands so she can abandon it properly for someone else to deal with. She looks to Tavo, nods to his cup, and then to the hatch. "Humor me for a moment." The Leonese tilts her head as she offers him a light smile. "Would you like to go for a walk?"
Tavo hesitates a moment at Rothschild's request, then nods, draining off the cup he's certainly not meant to be carrying around the corridors, lets out a quiet 'ahhh' as the rum burns its way to his stomach, and then nods, "Glad to. Lead the way." The cup is set in the sink, to be handled by some poor schmoe on KP duty, and then he moves to join her in departing the room.
Rothschild smirks slightly at the moment of hesitation. "I'm not going to bite," she promises him. Then she starts to lead the way as requested, stepping around the chairs and tables so that she can step them out into the corridor. She does seem to be intending to just go for a walk as she falls into an easy stride that is all about going for a walk instead of trying to get to a destination.
"I know." Tavo's protestation comes a little too quick, and he rolls his shoulders, grunting a bit of an apology. His stride matches hers easily enough, and he lets out a little breath, "What can I do for you, Praety? You're not still worried about tomorrow, are you? You've been kicking ass down there plenty."
Praety catches that quick protest, and it just draws a soft smile to her lips. She continues along, keeping to the far edge of the corridor so others can come past. The woman has an air of relaxation around her that does not seem to be easily prodded around. Though she knows she will not sleep tonight. "I'm not terribly worried, no... but you can't be, can you?" She then looks down at their walking feet as they come to the first stairwell, and she chooses up. "I just wanted a walk, and I actually don't like walking alone."
Tavo shakes his head, "Nope." And then he actually considers it, "No, I don't think I am. No more than usual." His limp is pretty much gone by now, only noticeable at all as they climb the stairs. He grunts his understanding of the dislike for being alone, and he's quiet a few more steps until they reach the top of the stairwell, "Laundry again?" There's a light teasing to his low voice, but he moves quickly on, "You really not going to sleep tonight?"
Rothschild takes her time as they climb the stairs, and then she steps out into the corridor just as he asks after laundry. She laughs softly, shaking her head as she allows a couple of pilots to bounce past, and then her dark eyes lift to his. "No... I was thinking of finding a quieter place." She smiles to herself before she continues along. Her brow lifts slightly as she looks up to him. "I don't sleep most nights... I haven't since Trenoir. First, it was because of the unsettling sleep I had. Now it is almost... habit." Which perhaps is more concerning.
A quiet chuckle bubbles under her laughter, and he watches the pilots rush past, "Don't they know you need to rest before a fight?" He nods his acceptance at her unspoken choice of locations, although her explanation draws a crease into his high brow, a frown starting to gather, "You're fighting on no sleep at all? Always?" His left hand stretches out to catch at her elbow, half-turning toward her in concern.
The gentle way he stops her has Rothschild a bit surprised, though the only sign of that is in the way her eyes widen a bit before narrowing as she looks up at him. "I sleep, but perhaps only a handful of hours to your lengthy sleep." She steps forward a touch, closing the space between them. "Don't worry about me, Gigas."
Her words only mollify Tavo a little, for all that he nods acceptance. "I guess some people," his voice quiets just a little as she advances, and his feet shift on the deck, "just don't need as much sleep." He meets her gaze for a moment, and then looks down, only then noticing that his hand is still on her elbow, "I worry about everyone in the platoon." And then he corrects himself, "But I know you can handle yourself in the field, Praety."
"I know." Rothschild smiles gently when he corrects his worrying, broadening it beyond the Praetorian. She then starts to smile before she offers him perhaps the most unexpected. Holding gently to his forearm, she lifts herself up onto the height on the balls of her feet to press her lips to his cheek. "I'll be okay, and if I'm not, you'll be the first to know." She starts to smile as she begins to resume their walk.
Well, that certainly surprises Tavo. He blinks at the kiss on the cheek, and when she turns away, he stays right there for a pair of heartbeats, and then he blinks again and turns to hurry two steps after her. "Good." He's trying to put the Staff Sergeant 'no bullshit' face back in place, but it's not quite there. "Do you think we'll be hitting a hard point, going ahead of the flyboys, or cleaning up?"
Rothschild counts the seconds it takes for Tavo to chase after her, and she chuckles almost under her breath when he finally catches up. She looks over her shoulder to him as he resumes walking beside her. His attempt to settle into a more comfortable topic draws her own expression sober. "I hope the former. I hate being the janitor." She comes nearer the chapel, but seems to be rethinking her decision. She starts to slow, drawing up short several steps.
Two. Just about two seconds. He clears his throat despite the enforced change of topic, a hint of pink in his bronzed cheeks. As he gets into the work-talk, however, it fades, "I'd rather the clean-up. Then I can set up and disassemble. No assaulting a dug-in force." When she slows at the chapel, his brows rise, "You're really religious?" It's not surprise exactly, just curiosity.
"Why does that not surprise me." Rothschild delivers this with the faintest hint of dry amusement, and then she breathes out a slow exhale as she considers the chapel. "Hmph. No." She looks at him with a lift of her brows. "Quite not. But, it is a peaceful place." She then shakes her head, glancing up at him. "I take it you are not religious yourself." She offers a quirk of a smile before she continues along.
"Because I'm a Scorpian grunt and you're a Leonese noble?" Tavo chuckles himself, then adds, "But we've got the preferences wrong-way-'round for that to decide things." The explanation on the locale causes him to nod slowly, "Probably be a few people praying. But yeah." And then he remembers that there was a question in there, "Yeah, no. Not especially. I mean, yeah, I pray to the gods, but... mostly a foxhole pray-er."
"Mm, well. I bet they listen to those prayers more closely than the drone others put in daily." Rothschild peeks into the chapel and finds it surprisingly quiet save for one solitary person at the front pew. She looks up at Tavo, brows raised slightly. "To go in and quietly sit, or to continue our walk?" She offers the choices to him as she looks back in, catching sight of the stars and curve of Canceron in the broad viewports.
"Hope so. There are a lot of them." Tavo leans around her to glance into the chapel, then chuckles at her question, keeping his voice quietly, a chuckle bubbling beneath his words, "Well, now if we don't do something we'll piss them off. I'm going to go in and light a candle to Ares. When we're done in there, we can keep walking?"
Rothschild ghosts a smile at his quiet chuckling, and then she nods a bit more soberly. "That seems quite fitting." She steps in as she is at the front of this little peeking-in and she quietly moves to take a seat at the back pew, sliding in just enough to allow Gustavo to sit with her when he's done lighting his candle if that is what he wishes.
Tavo lets Rothschild go first, watching her advance for two steps, and then following her into the chapel. He paces quietly to the altar of Ares, kneeling down carefully to light one candle from another. His head bows a moment, and then he stands. Hesitating a moment, he then moves over to the altar of Aphrodite, repeating the process of lighting a candle. Once more he hesitates as he rises, and then goes through to light candles at each of the remaining ten altars more smoothly. There's a little bit of a bashful look to his features when he finally makes it back to the pew at the back.
Rothschild watches Tavo with the barest tilt of her head. Her dark eyes track him as he moves from altar to altar, though her brow does arch slightly as he moves to Aphrodite and then onward along to the others. When he turns back, she drops her eyes a bit, looking first at her hands and then out across at the viewports. She looks back up at him only when he gets near. "Did you worry that the other ten might feel left out?" The question is offered in a hush. "The first two... to Ares and Aphrodite... they seemed intentional. The others... seemed a bit more out of respect."
By Tavo's sheepish shrug, she's pretty much dead on with the first guess. "Maybe a little," he murmurs. Clearly he didn't pull it off smoothly enough to make the latter ten seem anything less than intentional. He starts to sit down on the pew, then stops, looking down and then back to the door, "Were we going to stay or keep going?"
"I'm sure they were thankful for that consideration." Rothschild might be teasing him, but she's doing so lightly and with a sense of endearment instead of meanness. She looks up at the front of the chapel as he starts to set down, though his stopping and question draws her brows up a bit. "Oh, hm. Let's sit for a few moments. Let the gods consider your offerings. Then we can walk back to the berthings."
Tavo shakes his head in amusement at her teasing, and at her decision, he finishes sitting down, pauses a moment, digs the flask out of his back pocket and then settles down again, cradling the flask between his hands in his lap. "We'll see how thankful they are tomorrow. Me, I'm thinking 'about the same as usual.'" It's not a complaint by his tone of voice, just a slightly-weary, 'realistic' view.
The sight of the flask draws an amused smile on her full lips. She looks back up at the sprawling viewports. "Well, we've done well so far... in the grand scheme of things... so perhaps we are blessed." She flicks her eyes sidelong to him before she holds out a hand to take the flask so she can imbibe a sip. "Any clues where we might be going next? I imagine you would prefer a bug-free environment."
Tavo glances back down to the flask at the smile, then chuckles himself and shrugs helplessly. "You've done well." But he allows the change of topic as easily as he hands over the flask, "I don't mind the bugs. There are plenty back home when the breeze fades. We haven't been packing on snow gear, so I don't figure Aquaria," the platoon has cold-weather gear somewhere, no doubt, but just not real cold-weather gear, or enough for Tavo (that may be two different things). "Beyond that... somewhere that the shit is neck deep would be my guess."
The Leonese takes a bold sip from the flask before handing it back, sharing the booze appropriately. She grimaces through the slight burn, and then shrugs a shoulder. "I wouldn't mind a bit of snow, but you're probably right. I was thinking, perhaps, urban." She looks ahead now, staring at the distant twinkle of stars. The woman is quiet for a long moment as she regards the astronomic landscape.
Taking the flask back, Tavo hesitates, then takes a little swig himself before he caps it and tucks it between his hands again. "Urban fighting..." he grunts, a single noise eloquently displaying his distaste, then looks aside to the Leonese woman, "But I don't have to tell you that." Reaching over to touch her knee, he starts to rise, evidently through sitting in the chapel. "I heard the official story... some time I'd love to hear what really happened."
"Mm," is all Tavo gets in reply, though it is perhaps as helpful as silence. The touch to her knee draws her focus back to the large Scorpian, and Rothschild watches as Tavo starts to stand. It prompts her, and she brushes her hands down her thighs as she stands. Leaving the sole occupant to finish his prayers, the Leonese falls in with the man. This gives her a bit of time before she answers him, "Perhaps. But it will require far more than your little flask holds, Gigas."
Tavo shuffles out the pew, then leads the way to the back of the chapel and out the door. Once they're out, he tucks the now-nearly-empty flask into his back pocket, and brings his voice back up to normal speaking terms, "Some time. Not now. Plenty to worry about for tomorrow anyhow." Says the man who said there wasn't anything to worry about for tomorrow.
"I tell you what," Rothschild murmurs as they continue along the corridor back toward the stairs, "if we come out of this okay tomorrow, I will tell you what happened at Trenoir while we are in transit to our next destination." She slips her hands into her pockets as she continues alongside him. There is a quiet that is falling over the ship as the time goes on, and it almost feels like the ship itself as started to drift to sleep.
Tavo shakes his head, "No, no." He flashes a smiles across to the woman alongside him, "I still need a way to get that story you promised would be so good first." He chuckles quietly, "I want amusement first, then drama. Don't you know? You have to get the audience caring about the character before you torment them."
Rothschild laughs at the call-back to that second bet. She looks up at him, brow arched. "Well, would you like to set the wager then?" She then slows a bit as they come near the hatch to the stairs. She stops to tilt her head up, arching slightly to regard the giant. "Are you the audience, or are you a fellow character?" Her mouth starts to curve slightly.
"Fewest wounds has to entertain the other with embarrassing or funny stories -- personal ones -- until their wounds have healed." Tavo pauses a moment, "No less than one a day." The bet is easy enough for him to make, but the question that follows causes hi to blink in confusion, "I... don't know... what's the difference, do you think?"
Rothschild considers the bet, and then she nods agreeably before she holds out a hand to seal the bet. "I never thought I would be hoping to get wounded." She smirks wryly before she considers the confused question. "Well, the audience just has to sit back and watch a story unfold. A fellow character gets to be part of the story."
Tavo laughs, shaking his head as he clasps Rothschild's hand, "Well don't go out trying to get shot up, or all the embarrassing stories will be about how you stood up and got shot to bits." Loosing her hand, he nods slowly, "About what I thought. The audience sounds boring then. I want to take part in what happens. It's why... well, part of why... I volunteered for the Cee-Eff."
When Gustavo clasps her hand, her fingers instinctive move to return the gentle grip. "Mm, okay. I will be thoughtful about that." Then she starts to step through the hatch into the stairwell, beginning to lead the way up the stairs. "Yes, the audience is quite boring." There's a bit of personal truth in that statement. She keeps herself a good step ahead of them as they walk, and when she glances over her shoulder to him, her brows furrow thoughtfully.
When Gustavo clasps her hand, her fingers instinctive move to return the gentle grip. "Mm, okay. I will be thoughtful about that." Then she gestures him to take the lead through the hatch and down the stairs to the berthings. "Yes, the audience is quite boring." There's a bit of personal truth in that statement. She keeps herself a good step behind him as they walk, and when she up at him, her brows furrow thoughtfully.
Tavo starts to chuckle at her response as he starts down the stairs. Going down, he has no problems at all with his leg, shaking out his arms as he goes, "Night before a game, I always wanted to shoot baskets." It's just words to fill the silence as he thinks, "Right. That's why you're here, isn't it?" He half-turns toward her as he inquires, "You wanted to get back into the show and out of the audience."
Rothschild watches his form shake and relax, and it draws a ghost of a smile to her lips. "We do have a pyramid court, don't we?" Then when he gets right to the thick of it, the Leonese woman starts to smile. "Mmhmm. Quite so." When he half-turns, she is able to easily look at him without lifting her chin too high. They are slowly getting to the bottom of the next stair, so she reaches out to gently touch his shoulder. "Tavo," she murmurs softly, prompting him if the touch was not enough.
"Yeah. But I'm supposed to be walking someone back to the berthings." Amusement filters into Tavo's voice, "Then you won't sleep, and I'll shoot some baskets." At the touch to his shoulder and his name, he turns the rest of the way around, his brows rising in question, "Mmhmm?"
"At least we both have plans." The Leonese woman remains on that step above, and she is pleased by how easily the gap in their heights decrease. She considers the Scorpian before her, and then she -- for once -- seems hesitant. "Do forgive the cliche, Sergeant, but... my luck is not infinite, so..." And the final clause of her statement is more physical as she boldly toes forward to the edge of her step, hands sweeping to his heavy shoulders so she can press a kiss to his lips.
Tavo finds himself looking directly at the Leonese woman, rather than down to her for a change, and his dark eyes meet hers. His smile fades into curiosity as she mentions cliches, and he's put onto his heels by the bold advance. His weight shifts back as she sweeps into him, and his arms enfold her frame without thought. The surprise hinders his response for a moment, and then he leans into the press, his left hand sliding slowly up the length of her spine to cup the back of her head, turning his head into the kiss to deepen it. The sound of footsteps rises up from the base of the stairs, and then a soft expression of surprise, and footsteps going right back down the stairs and around the corner again as someone walks into the sight of the two Staff Sergeants indulging in a rather lingering kiss in the stairwell -- or at least lingering if Tavo has anything to say about it.
Rothschild is on the brink of retreating when his response is not immediate, but then she is fully embraced with his heavy paw gently cradling her head beneath the lazy bob of her ponytail. She barely registers the footsteps, focused entirely on the way her arms crisscross behind his neck and the press of her buxom frame into his stronger, broader one. The kiss does linger, but only lingers long enough to leave a light numbing buzz on her lips. She barely lifts from his lips, staying close without re-engaging. Without even thinking about the consequences, she murmurs, "I can think of one way to ensure we both are well-rested for tomorrow."
Tavo nearly follows after her slight retreat, his eyes closed. His reaction to the press of her curves against his frame is immediate, and his fingers scrape over the small of her back as he slowly opens his eyes. Her words draw his eyebrows up sharply, and his hand slips from her back, dropping down to pinch his side hard enough to cause a little wince. "Finding somewhere quiet and wearing each other out?" Finally, he has the classic big-man's rumble, with his throat tight and voice husky.
The scrape of his fingers draws a soft shuddering breath from the Leonese woman. She almost misses the pinch to his side that Tavo gives himself, but all she does is arch her brows up slightly. She does not have time to ask after the pinch as he rumbles his response, and Rothschild starts to smile with her dark eyes smoldering. "Ita," she murmurs in Leonese, confirming his idea. "I hear the storage closets are quite useful for this endeavor."
Glancing back down the stairwell a moment, Tavo considers something for a heartbeat, then leans back in to steal a slow, simmering kiss from her lips. The hand at the back of her head slips alongside to cup her cheek as he opens his lips against hers. He only means for the stolen kiss to last long enough to get the footsteps from earlier out of the way, but he gets more than a little lost, and it's a good while before he straightens up again, "Small arms locker down a deck and ten paces down the corridor."