Marines left without necessities find some solace in a Virgan officer.
Location: Biscayne Starport
Related Scenes: None
Scene Number: 303
Most of the businesses at the airport are closed by now, so there's no shopping to be done, assuming that what one means by 'shopping' is viewing goods with intent to purchase. Once freed from that intent, however, window-shopping the terminal by night can be enticing. Geoff, for example, is currently cupping his hands around his eyes to peer into the dim glass case of a jewelry store, the better to see the only partially-lighted gems in their settings, last-minute yet extravagant gifts for the one waiting in your destination or the one you're going to meet.
Unfortunately for Charlie, she's one of those marines who has nothing but the gear she went into the field with. She's been given some Picon Navy sweats and... it's sort of a return home. A bittersweet one, in a sense. She fits in, blends in, and it's made her absolutely miserable in a sense. The woman is sitting with her back to a gated storefront just a shop down from the one that Geoff is peering into. With a sandwich in one hand and a book -- procured from someone or another -- in the other, she feigns reading, but is really just staring off into the distance. Her braids are gathered into a band over one shoulder and for the moment, she looks like she could be anyone... well, save for the dogtags hanging over the sweatshirt. Those mark her as CF, at least.
And rolling down the concourse is Irene, pushing a cart with a stack of ration boxes and a fabric rucksack perched atop those. She's got Colonial blues on, rank pins and shiny pilot wings and all, looking as though she's strolled out of a recruiting poster. Well, maybe a little rumpled and not so cleanly pressed, but smart enough to pass muster around here. As she travels along, and happens to see anyone in any sort of CF uniform, she chats them up and hands out random stuff from her pile of goodies. Toothbrushes, candy, a pair of skivvies for one Marine. Obviously whatever she managed to bring with her off the Vanguard in the raptor.
Geoff is in his off-duty tanks, but they're still standard CF issue. He turns around when he heres Irene chatting, and looks suspicious about her pristine appearance, but he quickly notes that she is handing out things for free, so he watches her, not intending to get passed by.
Clothed in Picon off-duty sweatpants and sweater, Gage blends in fairly well, even if he doesn't look entirely happy about the clothing. He's walking down the concourse, spotting Irene handing out free things -- perhaps that's why the marine makes a beeline for her. "CF?" he asks, by way of presumably, greeting.
There's a look up at the rattle of cart wheels and the stack of items. Charlie drops the hand holding the book between her knees, considering. She does, finally, lift the sandwich for a bite. The woman rumbles slightly before pushing to her feet to amble her way over. Her thumb remains between the pages to hold her spot. As she's in ill-fitting sweats, it's rather clear -- particularly to, say, Gage -- that she's one of those out of luck on having things beyond what she went into combat with. For the moment, she lingers out of the way as others get what they can.
Irene nods, pointedly brushing off the shoulder of her regulation blues as she does. "Lieutenant, jay-gee Harris, Colonial Forces, Vanguard." She confirms bringing the brushing hand up to her forehead for a casual salute. "I was on the boat, so I managed a few extra things in the raptor." Is her quiet explanation as she sizes up first Gage, then the other two Marines. Her mouth screws up thoughtfully and then she begins to dig through the olive drab sack atop the pile. "What do you guys need? I have a few bars of soap, some biscuits, uhm. magazines... candy, nuts. An extra shirt."
Geoff approaches Irene, too, since Gage is going over that way. "I want the shirt," he says. "You got any scissors?" Then a look at Gage. "I don't know your face, do I?"
After a glance, Gage nods towards Charlie in that silent acknowledgement way marines have. His gaze goes back to Irene. "Figured you were an officer. Aint any but them ever look so... neat," the marine says, wryly. He glances at Geoff, with a shrug. "Seen you on the boat. Tomak, of the Timber Wolves. Lately," with a grimace, "Of the Vanguard, too." While Irene digs through the sack, he says, "Just looking for something that doesn't chafe," he says, with a twitch of lips that acknowledges the blandness of his statement, one hand pointedly adjusting his sweatpants around the groin. "And some cigarettes, if you have 'em."
Marines don't know the meaning of 'neat.' Charlie's got her dreads gathered up in an elastic; the sweats she's wearing are a bit too big and frumpy; the sleeves are pushed up to the elbows. No neat and orderly here. She deals with an iron once in a blue moon. The woman gives the upnod in return to Gage, taking another bite of her sandwich as she steps up alongside the engineer. After swallowing, she asks him quietly: "You seen Calhoun, by chance?" The Scorpian marine did return a couple days back, but her schedule and his have been at odds; they haven't seen one another yet... and then this happened. It might be part of why she's got a touch of that 'distressed' look to her. Because Wagner? Usually manages 'composed' so well. Instead, she just leans up on her toes to look: "Any of the usual uniform stuff... In my size."
The shirt is easy enough to find, so Irene pulls that out first and underhands it to Geoff. As the tightly folded packet sails his way, she gets back to searching, smiling faintly as she does, explaining, "It's required learning at the academy. You don't graduate if you don't pass neatness." The next thing to come out of the sack is a dark blue, practically black, garrison cap of Virgon design. That's obviously hers though, since she quickly places it atop her head at just the perfect angle without an apparent thought. It's reflex. Beneath it is a pack of cigarettes, luckily enough, so that goes to Gage. "Scissors... clothes." She reminds herself under her breath, seeing what she might have to satisfy the requests.
"I'm running low on cigs, too," Geoff pipes up after Gage. He glances at the chafed marine. "Seen me, huh." He looks to Charlie and advises, "Get extra clothes if you can." He snatches the shirt out of the air.
Gage seems to take a moment to consider Charlie's question. "Haven't," he reports, after a moment. "Don't mean they aren't keeping him busy somewhere, though. Lot of that going around. Busywork." Pretty much marine life 101. "Keep an eye out for him for you, Wagner," he adds. Irene's talk of required learning for officers earns a snort of amusement from Tomak. "Aint that much of a secret. Shit!" the latter is surprise that there's cigarettes, and gratitude, too, as he takes it from Irene. "Thanks. Hey, you're all right." For an officer, might be the implied addition, though he's thankful enough for the cigarettes -- which he quickly tucks out of sight into a pocket, that he doesn't voice it aloud. "Owe someone," he says to Geoff. "Can give you a couple?" with a tilt of head.
"There's cigarettes in the shops, too." But those will likely go fast. And who knows if who has cubits on them. Charlie's not being very helpful; her mind is elsewhere. She nods, distracted, at Gage's words. "Thanks." Instead, she just finishes off her sandwich as she waits to see if Irene has anything suitable in her size. She can't live in ill-fitting Picon sweats forever, afterall.
"You're welcome, but you two will have to share those, or fight each other to the death for them. That was the last pack." Irene says matter-of-factly with a sympathy frown for Geoff, doubled, when she comes up empty on fresh scissors too. "Will you settle for a razor? I have a couple of those left. And..." Lastly, she shuffles some of the contents around and pulls out some duty greens that look just her size. That might be problematical in itself, so she flaps out the top and holds it in front of Charlie by the shoulders to see if she'll fit in it. "That might work? We're about the same height, at least."
Geoff doesn't demur, he turns up a palm to Gage to accept the cigarettes he's offered. But hey, he doesn't complain either. In fact, he smiles at Irene. "I'll take a razor," he agrees.
"Free cigarettes taste better," Gage tells Charlie, with a grin. This is undoubtedly why he's always mooching off Aleksander during missions. He frees the cigarette packet just long enough to tap out a couple and offer them to Geoff. "No spare underwear?" he asks Irene, wryly. "Figures. Maybe I should take Calhoun's style and just go commando for a while."
There's a squint at the greens that are held up. Partially because, well, often marines are about in khakis instead of greens, but also because it's not often that someone sizes you up in quite that way. Finally, Charlie just reaches out to grab at them. "If they don't fit," she decides, "I'll find someone they do and pass them off." At the very least, she's going to try. She misses her BDUs. There is a sad sort of look to the pile. "No tanks?" Because dual-tanks, well, they're where it's at, you know? She does glance to Gage and blinks. "Reminds me... he hasn't had a chance to make right on his bet. Maybe we oughta find some real nice lingerie in one of these shops."
"Here, take the trousers or you won't match." Irene insists, maybe not picking up on the fact that the Marine would prefer khakis to the much neater greens. She's just doing her part to pretty up the rank and file. Next, razor for Geoff and the underwear, that'll take some digging so she gets at it, stopping only to throw a packet of biscuits up in the air for anyone to grab. Free goodies. "No tanks, sorry. I thought I had another but I must have given it away... oh here." Underwear! They look just a little bit too small, but snug is better than none? "Alright, I think I've exhausted my cache here."
"I don't think she's your size," Geoff jokes to Gage as he takes the cigarettes, slipping them in a pocket for later. He looks at Charlie. "Are we dressing your boyfriend in lingerie?" he asks. Apparently it's 'we,' now. He pockets the razor, assuming it's packaged safely.
"You never know," Gage says to Geoff as he tucks the cigarettes safely back into a pocket, fairly smirking at Charlie's reminder. "I'd be happy to help you pick out something for him. Lacy, didn't you say?" He eyes some of the nearby shop windows, grinning. He glances back as Irene finds some underwear, glances at the sizing on them, and shakes his head. Smaller is definitely his problem right now. "Thanks anyway. Hey, you come up with a new stock of items, feel free to swing by bunk in the barracks first, eh?" he'll even give Irene a brilliant smile to try and make it worth her while. Worth a try, right?
"He's not my boyfriend," Charlie responds back to Geoff; as much out of reflex as anything. There is, however, a bit too much additional bite in the response. Someone's testy. "He lost a bet is all." She does grab the trousers, also, tucking them under her arm. There's a glance to Gage, then the closed storefronts. "Lacy, yeah. We'll have to go around tomorrow." Anything to keep her mind off matters. There's still people coming in injured. Counts not yet finished. She hasn't had it in her to check lists yet. Lists of names. The lists you don't want to read.
Geoff smiles and shrugs at Charlie. Then he fishes out one of those cigarettes he just carefully put away and lights it up with a cheapo lighter.
The smile doesn't seem to invoke the intended response from Irene, instead she narrows her eyes, pushes her lips to one side and holds up a finger. One second. "Sure, but keep your teeth clean, marine. Dental hygiene is extremely important." With that PSA given, the smart blonde hands out three toothbrushes, still in their packages. She may be out of other stuff, but definitely not toothbrushes. "Right. Take care. Brush your teeth."
Gage half eyes Charlie at the bite of her tone in response to Geoff, but doesn't say anything. Not for niceness or anything, probably. "Sounds like a plan," is all the engineer says to the sniper, with a grin. There's a somewhat rueful grin from the marine at the response from the officer, not exceptionally deterred by that response. "Can't argue with an officer handing out presents." Even if they're not very exciting ones. He takes one of the toothbrushes, using it to give a loose salute to Irene.
"What, you mean I don't just fine some vodka to rinse my mouth out with?" Charlie might be joking. Might. Either way, she accepts the toothbrush and wedges it into one of the pockets on the duty greens she's been handed. The whole bundle is wrapped up into the neat package that marines are capable of making. Turning it into something far smaller than one might think possible. She takes a few steps back, looking to the closed storefronts once again. "Speaking of... could really use a drink or five right now."
Irene leans the cart back onto its two wheels and pushes into it, "It's better than orders, right?" She jokes lightly and once the cart has found its balance, she spares a hand for a return salute. The academy trained salute is surely something, even casual, she makes it sharp. "Alright, I'm off. I'll let the higher ups know about the underwear shortage." An unofficial sort of smile is flashed and then she pushes off and down the concourse, headed for the next clutch of refugee marines.
Geoff takes his toothbrush. "Thanks," He says to Irene, cigarette already in his mouth. Which isn't necessarily the best for oral health. "If y'all find booze, don't hold out on me," he mumbles around the cigarette.
"I'll drink to that," Gage tacks onto Charlie's words, completely un-ironically. He grins after Irene, watching her depart unashamedly for a moment. "Gonna go see a man about a horse. You find anything to drink, Wagner, hit me up?" he says, as he heads off in the other direction.