2237-06-24 - Ancient Virgon Secret

Alain and Eva visit Aubrey. They come bearing gifts.

Date: 2237-06-24

Location: Messhall, //Vanguard//, later, Sickbay

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 1159

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Eva never did get to finish her unpacking, as she got called away, as most of the free wing did, to assist with the evacuation. And so now, she's back at it. A big tin, a scoop, and some baggies. She's humming, to herself as she works, a mug of coffee and some pasties on the clean side of her table. She's dressed in her off-duty gear, with an apron on top.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Alain's spent most of his time since the evacuation in the chapel, a bit of time in sickbay visiting his wingmate, and now he's he's walking into the lounge. His back is still straight, and though he pauses to glance at the food line, he elects to skip straight past it to the drinks. He makes coffee, no sugar or cream -- sipping at it as he moves past tables towards where Eva's set up. He looks like he needs it, a tiredness in the LT's gaze.

Eva, always with a weather eye to the horizon, when she has her goods delivery. Because you just can't trust military people not to steal your ****! Ahem, notes the arrival of her fellow pilot. There's concern, in her expression, as she sees him vector off towards the drinks, but she'll wait until he's gotten what he needs before she speaks, "Alain." A tip of her head, an invitation for him to join her.

"Eva," Alain replies in that self-same tone, a wry twitch of lips evidenced before he slides into a seat. His gaze flickers over the items on the table, something puzzled furrowing his gaze. "Sideline business?" he guesses.

"Not quite, just trying to fix a problem. You know I am all about solutions." Eva smiles, across at the man, "Since we've been having these sorts of contests between us, I am finding that it has become more and more difficult to acquire the goods in the quantities we need, so...I had an idea, after a call to the Galactica." She gives a 'one sec' gesture, as she heads to the drinks station Alain just left, grabbing two mugs and a pair of spoons, and carrying them back to the table, "Can you crack open that water?" She has a refillable bottle by her coffee.

Alain makes a noise that seems to be acknowledgement mixed with amusement, though he keeps his mouth mostly hidden behind his cup to make it more obscure. He watches her without comment, initially anyway, dutifully cracking open the bottle as requested.

Eva, settling back onto the seat, pull up two of the baggies, emptying them each into a mug. It smells like, well, cake mix. Looks like cake mix. "Water." She holds out a hand for the bottle and adds just a small amount to each. Then she hands you a mug and one of the spoons. "Mix."

Alain's expression grows ever more puzzled, and it's obvious he wants to ask what she's doing. He's known her long enough though that he just goes with it, doing as requested, mixing thoroughly.

Eva, despite the, well everything, actually manages to look rather tickled, as the two mugs are now filled with, well, chocolaty goo. "Now, the fun begins. Come on." She rises, heading over towards the bank of microwaves, "I should have used milk, but they didn't have any fresh, but hopefully..." She stops, waiting for you to join her, "One minute, 45 seconds."

"I know it can be hard to get time in the kitchens, but..." Alain's more amused than baffled, though he follows her towards the microwaves, shoving his mug inside and setting it for the appropriate time.

Eva grins, watching Alain, watching the microwave, waiting until the timer counts down, and then popping it open. She does make a side trip to retrieve a spoon, rather than a fork, to offer to you, "Take it out, take it out! Careful, it's hot."

Alain's puzzlement vanishes as soon as he opens the door and smells the familiar cake-like smell. "Huh," he still doesn't seem convinced, though. He, of course, ignores the warning and immediately takes a small spoonful. It's hot, indeed, judging by the way he blows through his mouthful and his momentary expression. "Hey, that's not bad, actually..." he brightens. "We should bring one of these to Banshee." A beat, as his expression turns wry. "Maybe two. They're kind of small."

Eva manages not to laugh, as Alain does the mouth cooling maneuver, turning to put her own mug into the microwave, "It'll be better with the milk. Cookie gave me the recipe, when I called him yesterday to thank him for my package. They're only small servings, though you could double or triple, depending on the size of the mug, but I thought...you know, cake on demand, always fresh. And I have a ton of ideas for things you could add in. Sure, I have a whole bunch ready to go, we've got all the mugs we need."

Alain crams a second mouthful in almost as soon as the first, no matter it's still hot. "It's plenty all right," Jigger says with a wry grin. He brightens when she says she has more ready to go, even setting his own mug down so he can move over to mix a couple more mug-fulls and add them to the microwave. "Being stuck in sickbay bites," he should know! "Cake should make it better."

Eva moves over to the table, setting out the baggies for you, the ones already filled, cleaning up the table as she goes. She'll need to put everything back in the crate and lock it, if they're leaving the mess hall, but she at least will make sure you have enough to make what you want to take with, "Cake makes everything better."

Once the microwaves 'beep' to signal they're ready, Alain hands Eva one of the hot mugs, takes the other himself, and collects his own. "Okay, let's go see if she's awake... oh, spoon!" he detours briefly to collect one, before heading for the door.

That's four cakes, counting the one Eva made but didn't. If this were a bear hunt, they'd be loaded...with cake. "If she isn't awake, she soon will be." Because nobody, even surfer models, sleep through cake.

Aubrey had to be put under last night for the serious shrapnel removal from her right thigh. She was all morpha'd out earlier today, but she seems to be awake now. She's sitting up in bed, with her leg in an elevated sling, in a Beach Bum surf gear nightshirt rather than a hospital gown, likely thanks to Abigail at some point since she was brought in. Her hair is in a pair of messy braids, and she looks perturbed at being stuck in bed for a couple days without access to all her crap back in her bunk. No makeup makes Bree a cranky pilot. She's been glancing over at the curtain around Addison's bed, because she hasn't been able to see him yet.

Alain, though a once-marine, was never good on the stealth front, and he doesn't even try now. He steps in with Eva, each of them carrying mug-fulls of something that smells pretty delicious, all told. Jigger knows where they're keeping Banshee, having visited earlier when she was asleep, and steps towards her bed, grinning like he's just brought home the bacon. "Wakey wakey, Banshee. Look what mama Cherry cooked up for you!"

Eva, never a marine, doesn't make a stealthy invader, at all. But she does bring gifts, so that might make up for it. She allows Alain to lead, as he's been here recently than she has...they do like to move patients around, "That's not true. You did all the work. I just gave you the tools." She also has mugs, two of them.

Aubrey looks over at the racket from the visitors and she can't help but laugh, which she instantly regrets due to the stitches in her belly. "What did you do, Jigger? Hi, Mom," she giggles. Ah morpha. Bless it. "Is it a ticket back to my rack so I can stop being poked and prodded?" she asks, looking at the mugs curiously. She has an IV in, but it's mostly just to keep her blood volume up til her body can make more to replace what she lost in the crash.

"No. I learned early on you do not frak with the doctors," Jigger says, all wisdom, before he passes over one of the mugs, together with a spoon. "Try it! It's... well, cake in a mug. It's pretty good," he says, flashing a grin to Eva. "I didn't do anything but follow Cherry's instructions," he says, as he settles down on one of the visitor's chairs, with his own mug, digging in his spoon.

Eva, as she arrives at Aubrey's bed, and Alain takes care of the explanations, sets her two mugs down on Aubrey's side table, moving to pull over a chair for herself, and for Alain, just in case, "It's good to see you up and awake, Banshee. We weren't sure how long they'd keep you out. And while that's fine for you, we were getting bored up here." There's humour in her words.

"Cake... In a mug?" Aubrey asks in amazement, as if that is the most coolest thing she's ever heard of. She takes it with her left hand, wincing a little at the bandage on her right arm. That was just a graze, thankfully. She gives it a sniff and sticks the spoon in, to draw out and inspect some cakey goodness. "How has no one ever told me you can make cake in a mug before? Is this some sort of Hibernian state secret?"

"Yeah," Alain adds on the heels of Eva's words, "I mean, you know crashing and needing rescue is supposed to be my thing, right?" he says, reprovingly. Of course, it's ruined by the fact that he's got half a mouthful of cake while he says it. "I know, right?"

Eva pulls her chair all the way over, flipping it around to sit so that she can rest her forearms on the back, "You're half right. But in all honesty, it was a secret to me too. A nasty, nasty Virgon secret." A laugh, before she explains, "I have a good friend, Brown, he's the galley chief over on Galactica. He's the one who sends me my regular deliverers of baked goods." Now you know where she gets it, "He's the only Virgon I've ever loved." That's said with a bit of cheek, "His baking skills are that good. Anyway, I called him after the last delivery, and I was telling him Alain and I making our bets, and he told me about this, gave me the recipe and everything."

"You're clearly rubbing off on me, Jigs," Aubrey quips, then stuffs a spoonful of cake in her mouth. Hopefully she's allowed to eat it because she'll be damned if she isn't gonna. "So much better than jello," she murmurs. "I got that frakkin raider before I went down, right?" she asks hopefully.

"Well, I always hope to rub off on people, but not usually in a way that encourages them to crash. I mean... do we need to make a bet about who crashes the least to stop this trend?" Alain asks, with a laugh, in between mouthfuls of cake/goo. "Uh. I haven't reviewed the footage yet," he admits, glancing towards Eva. Surely she has? Also, "Brown, huh?" he's got a glint in his eyes, like now he knows Eva's secret, he's going to take advantage of it.

Eva nods, as she sees the look from Alain in answer to Aubrey's question, "You did. And you managed to land safely. That was no easy feet, so you should be proud of that. I've seen a lot of pilots fail to make a landing from that height." A smile, "PO 1st Oliver Brown. If you hear me talking about Cookie, that's him. And if you get over to Galactica you can't miss him. He's the size of a house, used to be a Marine, and he has a cylon leg." Yes, that's what she said.

"I still think the gods are angry about our bet, Alain," Aubrey murmurs, between mouthfuls of cake. At the mention of a cylon leg, she gives a sharp frown at her own leg, like it somehow betrayed her by getting all cut up. "Gonna be on crutches for a little while. I'm gonna be so bored."

"Used to be a marine, huh?" Alain sounds pleased -- they have that in common, at least. "Don't get over there much, myself. I'll make a point of it though. And definitely not tonight." Alain gives an agreeable nod of his head. "Half the problem of crashing is crashing in the right way. Lucky it was just your leg," he says, with a wry smile. "No," Jigger replies firmly to Aubrey, with a wave of his spoon towards her, "They're not." Surely he, if anyone, should know. Plus he's spent the night in the chapel, so maybe that's where his surety comes from.

"Took a while to get my call through, so I think the ship must be in some real nastiness right now. Not sure if or when we'll meet up with them, unless we head back to Scorpia at the same time." There's a hint of something wistful in Eva's voice. She does miss the Galactica. "I am not a believer in the gods, as Alain well knows, but I don't imagine that any god who would do something so petty would really be worthy of anyone's worship."

Of course, Aubrey doesn't know the bad news yet. "Did you get the rest of those raiders after I went down?" she asks the pair, scraping the sides of the mug to get every last crumb. "How many did you get solo, Jigs?"

Alain is decidedly silent on Eva's words on the Gods' whimsy, exhaling a breath. Aubrey's question has him shaking his head. "I don't know," he admits, in what seems like honesty. "One, two maybe? It was pretty hairy." And he might've been a little more distracted than usual. There's a line that appears in his forehead, like he realizes Aubrey doesn't know yet, glancing towards Eva.

Eva, never one to leave anyone in the dark, even if the news is dire, still tries to say it as gently as possible. "We cleared all of the enemy craft, and all of the raptors made it from the surface safely. But Razor also went down. We were not able to recover him, and he is officially listed MIA." Which, well, could be a point of hope. After all, is there not another formerly MIA pilot right here in this sickbay?

"Frak," is Aubrey's eloquent response to the news, but her eyes look pained by it. "No news is good news though. I mean, Addi is right over there," she gestures in a vaguely Addison Walker direction, "And he was gone half a year. We'll find him, get him back."

Alain exhales, nodding. "I'll keep praying for him. Good chance the resistance'll pick him up, keep him safe. Comms down there are sparse, from what I hear, so there's no need to give up hope yet." He glances the direction Aubrey gestures, but he doesn't know the man.

Eva rises from her seat, moving to find water and enough cups for the three of them. Because even the dead don't want to drink apple juice, in Eva's opinion, which is what is currently on Aubrey's table. "I believe that we will. There's a good Picon presence down there, despite the cylons, and that means there's more chance that, if he made it out of his ship, he was able to get somewhere relatively safe. And we'll be running sweeps for him, as command allows."

"I haven't seen Addi yet," Aubrey murmurs, a little groggily. "I grew up with him and Abby. We were inseparable til he went to school and she enlisted. I can't believe we're all here, together again." She looks back at them. "If that can happen, anything can happen."

Alain returns to his mug cake, because failing the presence of any alcohol, chocolate will do in a pinch. Finishing it off and setting it on Aubrey's bedside table, he leans forward, resting a hand on Aubrey's arm. "Glad you're here too," he says. "You've got to work on getting that leg healed up, so you can join us in sweeps," he adds, nodding towards Eva.

"It helps...to have people that you care about on board. Whether they're friends, family, lovers. It can make the job easier." Eva pauses, considering Aubrey, "But it can also make it more difficult to keep your emotions in check, if you're worrying about what might happen to them. Believe me, I know that better than most." Doesn't she fly with Finn most days? And flew with Niemec before? "But enjoy them. You'll be back on duty soon enough."

"I'll do my best," Aubrey promises, with a goofy smile for Alain. "It is nice to care about people you work with. Way better than hating them."

"We're a family, even if it's not by blood," is Alain's addition to Eva's words. "And that makes us fight harder for each other if anything." He grins, abruptly, "I'll try not to pull too far ahead of you while you're healing up," he says to Aubrey with a wry grin.

Eva, for her part, seems content to pour water, and hand out cups. If that's part of mom duties, she seems to have it down pat, "Or you could, Alain, and then give her something to reach for when she does get out." Because who doesn't like a little friendly competition.

"Don't you dare," Aubrey threatens Jigger with a mock angry look, before she takes the glass from Eva and takes a sip of her water. "Now you two go rest some. I have a date with my pillow and the morpha button."

Grinning at Eva, Alain agrees, "Motivation sounds like a fine idea. Get you off those crutches sooner and back on my wing, eh, Banshee?" With an exhale, he pats at Aubrey's arm, then pushes up, collecting the dirty mugs. "I'll be back tomorrow after duty. Want me to bring anything?" he asks.

Eva rises, stepping forward to place a hand, momentarily, on Aubrey's arm, "Just rest, Banshee. We'll take care of the rest. And if you need anything, we're happy to bring it down for you." Clearly Eva and Alain are 'family' enough to even share the braincell on occasion.

"Some magazines would be great," Aubrey admits, "And the book of word search puzzles on the shelf in my rack?"

"Done," Alain replies, with a grin towards Eva, as he adds, "And some more of those cakes, maybe?" With a wink, he heads out of the sickbay.

"Not to fear, Banshee, we will see to all of your needs. For now, rest. Cakes, magazines and puzzles are on the way." And with that, Eva too, slips out.


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