2237-06-07 - Resting Bitch Face

Priya plays pool while Nate works on his camera.

Date: 2237-06-07

Location: Vanguard - Crew Lounge

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 1101

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Nathaniel’s posture and general manner is gentle. Not quite on the same level as the Alpha personalities that careers in the military can often attract. The Libran carries himself with a natural unassuming humility that might appear to stand in direct contrast with the shocking tuft of orange-red hair atop his head and his brightly colored if not well-maintained beard. He’s content to be background fodder, when he can manage it -- and he’s done a pretty good job of that so far.

Head craned forward, it appears Nate’s laid out the many little intricate black and metallic components of one of his cameras, identifiable to the untrained eye by the still-recognizable lenses. He fingers the pieces gingerly, spritzing and wiping them down with a specialized cloth. By its nature, the task is arduous and takes up quite a lot of space in what is already something of a limited area.

Priya isn't a soul in the possession of a particularly gentle manner or posture. She moves like a cross between the trained march of a soldier and the stride of a women who simply couldn't give half a frak. Off duty for the moment, the long hair on the unshaven side of her head falls loosely against her shoulder, dark eyes canvassing Nathaniel's delicate work as she heads for the pool table. "You're lucky they've got enough tables, else you'd be condemned to the mess," she comments, Tauron accent thick and rough around the edges. A hint of tattoos peek out from beneath the sleeves of a hole-filled and worn sweater, draped over her regulation sweats.

“Easier than trying to get it done in the berthings.” Dappled with freckles, the bridge of Nate’s nose crinkles pleasantly along with the corners of his eyes. His voice is calm. Welcoming. “Or Gods forbid, the mess hall.” He’s no Tauron but Librans are so ambiguous, aren’t they? His own shirt, a button-down softened by age, is left casually open to reveal the undershirt beneath it. Hints of traditional ink-work similar to her own is only just visible before disappearing beneath the fabric that covers Nate’s sparsely-haired chest. “I can make room if you need me to, it’s no bother...” He moves to begin doing so, if only fractionally.

"Probably a scosh cleaner," Priya quips, reaching for one of the pool cues. "It'd be all up in the bunks or you'd have people stepping on your shit." She eyes him with a tilt of her head, particularly the hint of tattoos before spinning the pool cue back and forth between her hands. "As long as you're not taking the pool table - it's not a problem. I don't want to upset ...whatever it is you're doing anyways."

Nathaniel abandons the task of shifting to make room as easily as he’d picked it up. Looking down the narrow length of his nose, he carefully beings to reassemble the camera starting with a flat, L-shaped interior piece. “Do you play? Or are you just passing the time?” He asks with only passing interest. “I once had the pleasure of witnessing a pool-shark take a former associate of mine for a run during a layover in Mangala. It’s a regret of mine that I didn’t get a chance to learn anything from her, save... well, not to fall for pool-sharks...” The corner of his mouth eases upwards, forming half of a toothy, impish little smile which he flashes in Priya’s direction.

"I play. It's a direct game, even if it isn't simple," Priya says, considering the rack of palls on the table as she settles them into place. "We're all just passing the time between battles, aren't we?" She snorts in quiet laughter at his pool shark store, eyes dark and fixed on him as she lens forward to break. "Was it worth the fall?" Her mouth hooks in a half moon of a smile, showing a hint of teeth.

“You got me there.” They are all just passing the time. “Oh, I’d say so. Then again, my cubits weren’t the ones on the line,” Nathanial’s sky-colored eyes slide up, settling on Priya’s with gentle amusement. They remain for a few beats before returning to keep watch over his deft fingers as they work.

Priya rolls Pool: Good Success (7 7 6)

There's a sharp crack of sound in the air as Priya breaks the triangle of set balls. One of the solids drives straight, bouncing off an edge before sliding neatly into the pocket. "As long as you don't call them that, yeah," she quips. Brushing her her hair back over her shoulder, she paces around the table to take a look at the lay of the land. "So what's with all the cameras?"

Nathaniel rolls Tauran: Success (6 5 5 4 4 3)

<<Nice Shot.>>” Nathaniel offers in quiet, albeit slowly-spoken Tauran before switching back. He holds up a piece to his mouth, parting his lips to breath on it before polishing. “War correspondent. Documenting the Timber Wolves for the Colonial Press...” His head ticks to the side as he adds, “And posterity.”

The Tauran, no matter how slowly spoken, draws a slight smile to Priya's lips. "<<My thanks. It was all luck.>>" This is decided as another ball goes askew when she knicks it with the cue ball. Her features flatten slightly at the admittance of his position. "Which stories will you choose to tell?"

Nathaniel buffs the tiny piece of metal until he’s content before very very carefully setting it into place. Slowly, the camera is beginning to look more and more like... well, a camera. He looks up after this is done, cocking his head to the opposite side as he conveys a pleasant, sassy amusement. He’s a reporter, not a psychic after all. “Don’t look so grim. I’m not here to demonize anybody,” he coos, leaning back in his seat and looking back down.

His amusement is met with a continued flatness of Priya's features. "This is my face." Nathaniel's cooing, whether to her or the camera, doesn't seem to be terribly effective. There's a quiet snort of disbelief at his claims as she returns to her game. "If you say so," she murmurs, focusing her attention on the game rather than him. He can keep to his cameras.


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