2237-06-23 - Night Watch

Lyn and Charlie take first watch at the cabin.

Date: 2237-06-23

Location: Old Hunting Cabin -- Near Arborfield

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 1160

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It's very late, or very early, one of the two, which for the recon insertion team means sleepytime. They moved under cover of darkness and wanted to get out of the rain. So the Arborfield insertion team is under cover of the ratty old cabin they found near the lake, with soggy things drying on a rope stretched across the single room, bedrolls covering the floor, and the mewlings of the box full of kittens serenading them.

Lyn is up on watch with Charlie, and she's perched atop a pile of broken furnishings they'd moved under the window, and peering out of it through her binoculars from time to time. She's down to a set of dry skivvies, wrapped in her scratchy wool bedroll blanket, letting her damp things get a little less damp.

The door was closed once the place had aired out enough from the night's rain storm. It opens anew and Charlie appears through it, removing her rifle from its sling. She sets it down among her things and peels off her helmet and jacket. Neither have been able to fully dry. And likely won't. The humidity and general wet to the air mean she likely won't have a chance to feel !damp until they return to the ship. The woman digs some jerky out of her kit and makes her way over to the window to perch up next to Lyn. "Perimeter's quiet."

"I didn't see any signs of recent passage, human or Cylon," Lyn notes to Charlie quietly, so as not to disturb the sleepers. "Either the front hasn't moved in this direction, or it's just not a target due to lack of value to either side." She brings the binoculars to her eyes again and peers through them. "If that mama cat moved in here and felt safe enough to give birth, my guess is no one has been in here for at least a year."

"We're still north of the settled areas," Charlie murmurs, leaning up against the wall next to the window. "Chances are, they see no value to moving up this way. There's nothing to be had up here. No cities. Any people would be few and far between." She tilts to look out the window, glancing. "It'd be a waste of resources. Beneficial for us, though." Settling back she looks to the other three, sleeping. "Shame we can't hunt. Or cook. I'd love a hot meal."

"Yeah, cold MREs are not my favorite things, but I'm used to them." 17 years in the military? You bet Lyn is used to them. "I try to avoid the ones with marinara sauce in areas I can't heat them up. Something about cold slimy spaghetti just makes me shudder." She lets out a breath. "A hot shower would be the best right now." She glances over at the box of mewling kitties. "Wonder if we can warm the MREs up if we shove them under the cats. Cats are warm, right?"

"Sadly, the way they shove them off on us... Can't always be picky." Sometimes you can trade in the field, but on an op like this? Not so likely. Charlie curls herself in by the window as best she can. She should have grabbed her blanket. Instead, she just hugs herself. Her jacket would have been worse; damp as it was. At the mention of shoving them under the kittens, she just snorts, looking to the box. "I hope their mom comes back after we've left. I hate to think of them being abandoned... But we probably startled her something fierce. Depending on where... when she was born, she's potentially never seen humans before."

"She'll probably come back. Though they look like they're big enough to already be weaned. She'll probably bring them back some food," Lyn murmurs. "You should probably get out of your wet stuff and wrap up. I put that line up to dry some of our things best we can. They'll still be damp, but not dripping at least."

"One hopes." Because, really. It's easier to handle casualties of war than abandoned kittens. Charlie looks down at her damp tanks and grunts faintly. "Yeh. At least dry socks. I just..." She shakes her head and unfolds herself, getting to her feet and hiking her way to her pack to start digging around in it. "You know that feeling... like being on vacation and afraid to spend your trinket money because what if you find something better? I'm afraid if I change into my dry things now, I'll regret it later."

"Dry things are only useful if you're wearing them instead of wet things," Lyn points out. "It's not cold here like on Aquaria, but being in wet stuff can open you up to all sorts of bad things. Pneumonia, hypothermia, nasty itchy rashes...." Diaper rash as an adult is not fun.

"And what if I end up with only wet things, mm?" Charlie is just fussing for the sake of fussing. Marine tradition. Even so, she's stripping down and digging out the dry stuff, exchanging items as she goes. She's careful in the shift of sports bras, however. From within one, there's a photo. Kept over her heart and she spends a moment, using a corner of the blanket she's pulled out of her pack, making sure it's well and dry before returning it to the same spot in her dry one. Ultimately, she ends up much the same as Arda; skivvies, socks, and wrapped in said blanket. "Mebbe the rain'll end up staying up above until we're done this op." Doubtful.

"Eh , we've been in worse," Lyn retorts about the rain. At least she has. Arctic Station Thula was pretty damned inhospitable to humans. "I'll just be happy if we don't run into bears or wolves or anything that might be more aggressive than that momma cat." She glances over at that photo dance and arches a brow slightly. "Family photo?" she asks.

"Wolves are pretty unlikely this near the coast," Charlie offers, helpfully. "Bears, however... I think they're around here. Cougars, too. We might see 'em. They and the bears like the fish in the rivers." At the question about the photo, her hand goes to her chest; unbidden. Same as the flush that starts to creep across her nose. She shakes her head a little, looking down. "Uh, no."

"That guy you are definitely not in a relationship with, despite all evidence to the contrary?" Lyn asks, with a small smile. "You're blushing, Wagner."

"Relationships are detrimental to the mission," Charlie points out, quietly, lifting her hand -- and the edge of the blanket she holds -- to scrub at her face. As if she could rub the blush away. At least it doesn't show too bad on her darker skin. But it shows enough, clearly. "We just... enjoy each other's company, is all."

"It's war, Charlie. If we can't find comfort from others during that, we'd lose our minds. We all need something to come back alive for on a mission," Lyn points out, looking back out the window at the soggy clearing.

"Uh-huh. And I have a warm body and a good lay to look forward to." Not that she sounds entirely convincing with it, altogether. Charlie rubs at her nose again before pulling the blanket tighter around herself. "I let emotions get the better of me during a mission once. I puts people at risk."

"And it keeps us human. We're fighting for the right to be human. Don't forget that. I tried to for the last two years and it didn't go so well for me. It's taken a lot of stuff to get me to a place where I can start being a real person again." Lyn stands up and yawns. "My turn to get some shut eye. I'll wake up the next in line."


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