2237-07-22 - Makeshift Arguments And Courts

Arguments are had, and a makeshift pyramid court begins to take shape.

Date: 2237-07-22

Location: Biscayne Starport

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 306

Jump to End

The starport tarmac isn't anyone's idea of a desirable place to spend an evening, but with temporary barracks set up and a lack of private space, Priya has found herself outside. Perched up on a stack of supply crates, she leans her face into a hand looking up at the stars she hasn't seen in so long. They're different here. Different on each planet.

Camila, too, is in search of stars. The short marine has traced a meandering path through a tangle ramshackle tents and a maze of Vipers in various stages of disrepair, a cheap holorecorder clutched tightly in her left hand. She's narrating the scene in fluent and fast Leonese that carries a bit too loudly once she reaches the largely empty tarmac -- where she swings her camera upwards to take in the panorama. "<<I think I see you>>," she says, her voice light. "<<One of those bright big dots, right?>>" So consumed is she by her project that she doesn't notice the supply crates behind her, over which she's like this close to tripping.

"Watch it!" Priya's voice breaks across the shipyard with an edge of command to it, even as it comes from behind Camila. "You're about to crack your head. Not that marines need it, but..." Enjoy that bit of snark on the tape. Swinging a foot, she turns her head back up at the stars.

<FS3> Camila rolls Dexterity: Good Success (8 7 6 6 4 1)

The camera jerks twice -- Marines are too poor for steadycam -- as Camila flails, the back of one foot catching on the side of a crate. But she's sufficiently graceful that she manages to twist her body in such a way as to suggest said foot-catching was merely a prelude to sitting. Which she does, with an easy smile. "Hey, sir. Say hi!" Her holo-hand swings over to Priya, catching the officer in profile.

It's not the most attractive profile with Priya showing some scrapes from the combat the last few days, but the zoom catches the strong lines of the Tauron officer's face. She lifts a hand in a wave, features looking put upon at the request. "Hey."

Camila gives the other woman a thumbs up. "That's Ensign Tarsis. She flies. From Tauron, I think? Crazy, isn't it. The unit's just like the Legion, but, like, with more than poor people from Scorpia." Thanks, the Marine mouths. And with a satisfied sigh, she leans back into the larger crate behind her and toggles her camera to panorama mode so she can catch the blue-white engine flashes of the CAP overhead. One callused thumb mutes the microphone before she speaks next. "You all right?" she asks. "Looking kinda banged up."

Priya chuckles to herself at Camila's description, leaning her elbow on a lifted knee and going back to her star gazing. She lets the other woman tend to her video. "Eh?" That she's being addressed seemed to surprise her, drawing her eyes downward to the Marine. "Yeah. Find. Damn sight better than some of our folks and the ships."

"Mmf." Camila waves a hand in the vague direction of Biscayne Bay, whose famous skyline has been darkened to avoid Cylon raids. Only the looming shadows of tall skyscrapers are visible through the night -- some of which are missing their tops. "Shitshow out there, too. Street fighting's a total bitch. Doesn't help that I managed to grab the only dud grenade in the armory." She shivers. "Good thing your assault rifles still work." The woman pauses. "Been on the front long?"

There's the hard thwack of boots hitting wood as Priya hops down from the supply crate she was standing on. Brushing a lock of hair pulled by the wind back from her features, she follows Camila's gaze out towards the darkened skyline. "Frak do I ever believe that." There's a wince for the dud grenade. The question - of all things - makes her laugh roughly. "I'm from Tauron." She starts and stops. "The Agricultural bits, not the city bits. Everything has been the front since the day they decided we'd be better dead."

The Marine clicks the top of her tongue against the top of her mouth. "Heard it's rough out there. We managed to cordon them off on Leonis. Kind of." She speaks of the planet with odd affection notwithstanding her accented Standard, which bears the trademark musical lilt of Scorpia. "Turns out the best way to stop them from taking over a thing is to blow the thing up yourself." One heavy boot traces a circle on the dusty ground. "I am Camila, architect's worst nightmare, destroyer of worlds." And her ponytail bobs up and down as she laughs. "Figures that my new ship goes boom like less than a week after I get on board."

"You've got a gift," Priya says dryly. "Apparently it's explosives. I can respect that."

"Hey, job's a job." Camila clicks off the camera and stows it somewhere in one of her many pockets. "This is more fun than cowering in Mama's apartment in Yparana. Pays better, too."

Lifting a shoulder, Priya's mouth curls in a upward motion as she joines Camila in leaning against the crates. "I have a respect for things that go boom." In many ways. "Ain't got nothing left to cower in back home. Better to be doing something - they were looking for anyone who could fly anything on Tauron."

"Let me guess. Cruise liner? I know that's true for at least one of you." Camila tilts her head sidewise so she can actually look the other woman in the eyes. "Apparently she flew a party bus from Cap City out to, like, everywhere."

"Cruise liner?" Priya's brows lift in mild disdain. "Nah. You're thinking of Soundbite. Blonde. Caprican." They've probably met if only in passing. "Crop duster." She wasn't kidding about that agricultural thing. Meeting that look, Priya's eyes are dark and sharp even with the seeming quiet of the hanger base.

"Seriously?" Camila barks out a laugh that probably comes off a lot worse than it's meant to. "Like, those little planes they used to pull drink-special ads above beaches during Vernal Break?" She draws her knees up to her chest and rests her cheek on top of them. "Shit."

"The what during the what?" Priya blinks in Camila in blunt confusion. "No. Like, seeding a field. You do the drop." She snorts at the lingering surprise. "Don't worry, we won't drop your ass. They do make us go to flight school."

"Honey, where I'm from, a field's something you kick a ball around on, and if you're lucky it goes into a net." Camila smiles fondly at the memory. "And no, no -- no offense meant. Just saying it's weird to spend your life, like, trundling around the sky at twenty klicks an hour and then, boom, here you are in a six-trillion-cubit war machine shooting rockets at things."

"Well... we do that too or did on the ones we weren't farming," Priya points out, Tauran accent thick on her words. It's almost intentional, playing to the roll that is expected. Shifting in the night air, she rolls back her sleeves to expose her tattoos before jamming her hands into her pockets. The Marine and the ECO stand leaning against a stack of crates in the ship yards, talking quietly. It's weird, but something that Camila says causes Priya to laugh and the sound is nothing but bitter. "There isn't a frakking normal thing about any of this. One day we were farming, the next day we were torn apart by the damned equipment. I don't give a shit about the difference so long as we're tearing apart as many toasters as we can."

Tavo does not have the use of his left arm at the moment, a sling binding it tight to his chest. But what he does have is a pyramid ball clasped in his left hand, a roll of glow-tape balanced atop it, and a tall, narrow crate with a couple of holes punched in one side of it in his right hand. That is to say, the necessities to make a very, very rough pyramid court. The crate scrapes a little, and he bows his head a little in greeting to the two women, "'Scuse me. Sorry. This area been pretty quiet for a while?"

Rothschild is just a few meters behind Tavo, arms crossed and her expression amused if not a bit exasperated. She is dressed in her PTs with loose pants and layered tanks beneath a simple jacket with holes in the sleeves and sneakers on her feet. Her dark hair is drawn back into a short, bobbing ponytail. She spots Camila and Priya as they approach, and she nods to the familiar and yet completely unknown faces of the pair of women. "He's seeking a place to set up a Pyramid court," she supplies in hopes of giving context to Tavo's slightly ambiguous question.

Camila allows herself a little "Mmrf" that she does her best to inflect with sympathy. It instead comes out like an ordinary "Mmrf." The short woman shifts on her crate to scratch an itch on her back. "You gotta admit, though. There are some nice things about this war. Toasters don't scream when you shoot 'em. It's just like, bzzt, bzzt, bzzt, error syntax error 404 life not found poof dead." The Marine's expression darkens, her expression turning severe below the throbbing red lights of a nearby DRADIS dome. "Call me crazy, part of me's kind of glad the Cylons went mad. Otherwise we'd be killing each other. And that's a lot less frakkin' clean." Beat. "Part of me." Only then does she acknowledge the newcomers. "Weather's fine. If you don't mind getting run over by a Raptor."

Logan appears to be exploring the area a little moving quietly around taking in the area. He blinks in surprise as he watches glow tape and a pyramid ball. He cheers at the sight of t his, "Now that's someone who has priorities right. Now all we need is a still." He says brightly as he makes his way over and he tries to snag the pyramid ball. He nods to Tavo grinning, "How can I help?" He asks cheerfully clearly perking up at the sight of the pyramid necessities but only threatening to hijack the activity a little bit. Priya and Camila get a bright nod and a grin but it's clear the pyramid crafts are his priority. Rotschild gets a grin, "You say that like you've seen this play out before." He observes.

Dark eyes narrow at Camila's suggestion that this war is somehow better for it being toasters. "Yeah. Tell that to all my frakking people who are already in the ground," Priya counters sharply, voice rising in anger. Stepping away from the other woman, she spits and flaps a hand at Rothschilde. "It's all yours. Any Raptor hitting you won't be ours." Turning on a heel, she pivots to leave.

Tavo hears the last of Camila's words to Priya, and he grunts with understanding and agreement and notes, "Scorpian." It's a 'yeah, me too' sort of thing. And then he nods to Rothschild's amused comment, "Yeah..." he's about to say more when Logan arrives. Tavo opens his mouth to respond, then blinks, "Huh." There's a pause, then he adds in, "You're Logan Lindus, aren't you?" There was another comment in there too, "Oh, I've got a couple flasks back in my kit." He lets the crate settle upright at his side, glancing back to the arguing women as if trying to decide if this is a good place, or if he might indeed be clobbered by a Raptor.

"Oh, I haven't seen him try to makeshift a pyramid court, but his obsession runs deep." Rothschild narrows her eyes slightly at Logan when he comes into closer view, and she is about to say something when she belatedly catches on the tensions building around the two women. She casts a glance toward Tavo before she holds up her hands. "Sorry to interrupt," the Leonese woman's expression remains soft and serene now, losing that humored edge. "Stay," she encourages Priya. "I'll let you beat up the Scorpian."

Camila opens her mouth -- and then very deliberately closes it, instead flowing forward from her post by the box with serpentine grace. One hand slips into her pocket to reveal ... a holocam and not, thankfully, a weapon of some sort. "Leonis, actually," she says. "Foreign Legion. 8th Parachute Engineers, 3rd Battalion, 1st Marines." She flicks her camera on with a touch of her thumb before adding, with evident reluctance: "Formerly. Hey. You mind if I record a bit of this? Rhea wants a record of what shit's like on the front." Her dark eyes flick over to Priya's back. "This front, I mean."

Stilling for a moment, the tension in Priya's shoulders is like iron as she leaves her back turned to the party. "Appreciate the offer, Staff Sergeant," she says slowly, accent thick and harsh. "But I think the CAG'll have my head for in-fighting when so many are in medbay." That said, she slips off into the shadows, departing the group.

Logan considers Tavo and then shrugs, "That I am." He says and he grins, "Well a couple flasks isn't going to last us long. We need to be able to resupply." He suggests and his head tilts towards the women seeming trying to decide if he should interrupt. Eventually he lifts the pyramid ball bouncing it a few times and then he grins, "Sounds like a discussion best resolved in comp.." But then things don't seem to turn out well and ther'es a holocam. He takes an immediate step back from it as if wary but then realizes it's not really the sort he's used to and just shakes his head, "Odd." He declares and he looks to Tavo and Rotschild, "So are there standing teams on the ship or more ad-hoc?"

"Hey!" Tavo protests at Rothschild's offer, the tape slipping off the pyramid ball as he does and falling to the ground where it rolls a meter or so away and flops over on its side. "I'm already plenty beat up." Still, he lets a small smile linger at the corners of his lips, although his brows rise at Camila's response to him, and he looks back to Rothschild, "One of yours then." He frowns in faint confusion as Priya slips off, then looks back to Logan, "Tavo Delgado. It was fun watching you kick Eshfield's ass back in secondary school." He shrugs one-shoulderedly at the question about the holocam, although he does shift around a little to let Rothschild and Logan have the spotlight, such as it is. "I've got the rest of the baby cask if we can get back to the ship." And then he points to Rothschild, "And half of hers." To get away from the camera, he moves around to fetch the tape again. "Ad hoc though. Been working on getting a league together."

At the news of another Foreign Legionnaire, Rothschild arches her brows and attempts to fit Camila into her memory. She is not familiar despite how close Eudora is to the Legion, but she nods gently. "<in Leonese> There are quite a few fronts, aren't there?" Then she resumes in Standard, her Leonese accent a bit thicker after the backwards slide into her native tongue. "Record away." She upnods toward Logan, and starts to chuckle slightly. "Ad-hoc, but just barely." Her dark eyes slide toward Tavo and then back to Logan. It is only then that she crosses her arms, smirking slightly. "Now, I remember you on my list, but I could never find the time to make an appointment." The Praetorian turns her smirk toward Tavo. "One of mine? Gigas -- " 'Giant' in Leones. " -- I'm not the Collector of the Leonese Marines."

"<<Quite a few fronts>>," Camila responds in her rapid Leonese, without any hint of the Scorpian lilt that wends its way through her Standard. She gives the other space and leans back against the crates, fiddling with the zoom settings on her camera. "I shipped out of Languedoc a couple of weeks ago. Not much of it left. Burn the village to save it, you know." Her easy smile is betrayed by her slightly sagging shoulders. "Anyway." She gestures grandly, muscular arms sweeping outwards. "Play on. I won't say shit unless someone scores a sweet golazo." That's Scorpian.

Logan inclines his head to Tavo and smiles, "Happy you enjoyed it. I had a solid team and we had their number that day." He says as he glances between the two drifting between languages blankly. He shrugs and he moves over to take up the tape to begin marking out the court. It's clearly the part he's most excited about and he seems a little vague on some of the back and forth. He then asks of Tavo, "Did you play? You have the size for it seems." He suggests brightly.

Tavo glances back and forth at the exchange of Leonese, although he doesn't look confused or lost by it. Finally, he ends up with a simple, "Bullshit," for Rothschild, "You've known every one that comes aboard." Tavo offers out a strip of the tape to Logan, then grasps the remaining tab between his teeth so that he can peel an arm's length of tape free of the roll and start to lay it down one-handed from the other side of the base of the crate. To Camila, he chuckles, "I don't do that in public." And that's dirty Scorpian slang. It's enough that Tavo glances down at his tape-work again, clearing his throat. It's hard to tell in the dark, but he's even blushing a little. The awkwardness clears away a little at Logan's question, "Yeah. At university. I enlisted right before I declared." For the pyramid draft. "Just how life goes." The grunt that follows is somehow both wistful and accepting.

"I have a deep affection for my Colony and those who swear to protect it," the Leonese noblewoman protests soundly. "But, yes. I do." She looks apologetically to Camila. "You slipped past my radar though, darling." She says that diminutive in the same quality one might provide any friendly, companionable term. "Or I would have said hello far earlier." Rothschild provides zero assistance to the pair of ex-Pyramid players, sliding herself up on a crate to watch the pair with those thoughtful dark eyes. When Logan asks if Tavo played, the Leonese woman carefully trains her gaze on the man in wait for his response. "Tavo keeps us all quite informed about the goings-on when it comes to Pyramid, though."

Logan raises a brow at the exchange between Rotschild and Tavo. He looks curiosu but again doesn't seem to have the background so instead he works deftly taking up the tape and moving to set it up laying it out with obvious familiarity. "Pity I'm sure it would have been interesting playing against you with a full team. Ah well we can make up for it now." He just seems happy to find another Pyramid player, "Well we all ended up in the same place it seems. How long your arm laid up?" He asks indicating the sling for the other man even as he returns for another strip of the tape. Logan seems one of those terribly upbeat types.

"Not your fault." To Rothschild, from Camila, as the latter stows her camera -- perhaps realizing that the only footage she's going to get in the next couple of minutes is the picture of a large man putting tape on tarmac. With a grunt, she plants her back against the side of the crate on which the other woman is sitting, her own eyes scanning the sky. "I got here a few days ago. Spent ninety percent of my time filling out paperwork and ten percent of the time getting shot at." Her chuckle is low; rough. "Bureaucracy and bullets. Bullshit." Ahem. "Sorry. None of you know me. I'm Camila. Camila Ines Aiuru de Silva, if you want to be formal about it. They had to give me a new form so I could put both surnames on." Not clear if joking.

Tavo is distinctly slower than Logan in setting up his part of the court. In his defense, he's only working with one arm. And his mouth. He's going to be tasting glow-tape for hours. "Pyramid shouldn't be missed," he responds in a tape-free moment, "Not even by heathens who don't follow it." His tone is light, teasing, and he corrects himself, "Sorry, didn't follow it." He nods at Logan's words, "Yeah. I'd have liked to go pro too." There's a bit of sadness there, and then he looks down to his sling, shrugging a bit with just his right shoulder, "The docs say one or two more weeks. Dislocated it crashing one of those flying deathtraps, but not too bad. Plenty of other people around who like Pyramid, but no pros besides you." Camila's introduction draws another nod, "Tavo Delgado." He glances over to Rothschild, but seems content to let the others introduce themselves.

"Mmm." Rothschild watches the two set up, but she does glance sidelong to Camila. She offers her own introduction after her usual moment of hesitation. After all, at the start of the war, her face was on almost every recruitment poster for the Leonese military forces. "Eudora Rothschild, though everyone calls me Roths." Which is quite a lie, but she's trying to sell it. She then smirks toward Tavo. "I found the Kobol Cup to be quite entertaining, though you certainly got tired of pointing out the rules over and over again. You should have just let me be wrong, Gigas."

Logan offers to the group a bit belatedly, "Logan Lindus." He says as if he's unsure if he needs to introduce himself. He grins at Tavo, "That's why we're supposed to stick to marching I guess." He shrugs, "Been awhile since I've played professionally. Besides it's not exactly like people around here are going to be slackers or out of shape. I'm sure we can get some good teams going and exhibition matches." He says delightedly. He looks to Rothschild and inclines his head, "Pleasure to meet you Roths." He says brightly looking between the two, "The Wolves sure are a mixed bag." He declares and then glances to Camila, "And you... at least the bullets didn't find you. Maybe all that paperwork shielded you."

"Oh shit. Knew you looked familiar, Roths." Hey, Camila has no way of knowing true from false. "You were on that -- " She snaps her fingers a couple of times before the light bulb goes off. Her expressive face makes the moment of realization clear, showing a glimpse of white teeth, but, having failed to come up with the name for 'recruitment poster,' she draws herself up into a crisp salute that matches Ye Not So Olde Poster perfectly. "Who'd you piss off to end up here?" Everyone else gets nods of greeting. And then she lopes forward to grab the tape from Tavo's arm (singular). "Seriously? We're gonna let the guy with a bum wing do this himself?" Logan's gibe is, for the moment, ignored.

Tavo groans at Rothschild's mention of the Kobol Cup, "You just liked watching me bitch about those second-rate," literally, in several cases, "assholes on the Stingers." He nods slightly at Logan, "Maybe. Problem is duty schedules. Even when no one's..." he gestures to his sling-wrapped left arm, "banged up, duty rosters change every damn week. Was figuring on just getting one-on-one or two-on-two matchups going. But some scrimmages, I bet we could at least do that." He gives up the tape to Camila easily, gesturing over to Logan, "Lindus helped. But she," he points to Rothschild with a grin, "just likes watching me work." Looking back to Logan, he adds, "And yeah. The Marines spend entirely too much time in Raptors. Give me a good truck or a hike any day."

Rothschild laughs at the miming, and she nods gently. "Mmhmm. After the battles in Luminere, I got picked up to help increase recruitment efforts." Her voice takes on an airy lilt to disguise the bit of disgruntled reflection on those memories. "The Colonial Forces brought me on soon after that." The question draws a sudden laugh from the Leonese woman, and she shakes her head. "Oh, no... I pissed off no one. No. I twisted their arms until they put me back into the thick of it." There might have actually been some blackmail involved, too. Then she holds up her hands at Camila's words and Tavo's rejoinder. "I did not want to make your lines crooked." Though she is at least peer pressured into sliding off her crate and moving to help with the tape. She glances over toward Logan as she approaches. "We are quite a mixed bag, but an effective bag." All she does is snort at Tavo's complaint of Raptors however.

Logan glances around and then offers to Rotschild, "It appears... you succeeded on getting into the thick of it." He says in amusement and then he cheers as they get the whole group setting up lines. Logan is quick to pace them out moving quickly and deftly with his side of lines. He snorts at Roths comment, "Duly noted." Tavo gets a nod, "Fair enough but no team every plays at a 100 percent. Doesn't mean you shouldn't play and set things up. Should be fun. Maybe some half squad games." He chuckles softly, "Well the Raptors are useful but hiking tends to be more interesting. On the bright side they've got atmosphere. Now a truck that's spaceworthy... I'll take it."

"Arm-twisting, huh? They just asked me. Guess I checked two boxes in one." Camila grins toothily as she shreds long pieces of glow-in-the-dark tape with precision born of compulsion. Identically sized strips are handed to Rothschild for subsequent action, because -- "I don't even know what a Pyramid court's supposed to look like. That's all you, honey. And yeah, I'm with Tavo. Space is weird. Like, where does the gravity even come from?" Only then does she realize her hands and sweats are now covered in fluorescent goo. "Shit. This brings me back." Her hips sway to a techno beat only she can hear, her arms raised above her head.

Tavo nods his thanks to Camila as she takes over his part of the taping, glancing around, "We'll have to find some more crates for backboards. Once we empty them out." He nods to Logan, "Might work. You're the pro. And yeah. Don't get me wrong, I'll put up with the Raptors 'cause they get us where we've got to go, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to gripe about it." He looks sidelong at Rothschild for a long moment, considering her response to him, then swallows his words, chuckling a little to himself. At Camila's admission that she doesn't know what the court looks like, Tavo glances over to Logan and raises his brows, then shakes his head in mock pity, moving over to start scuffing lines on the tarmac with his foot to guide the layout. He points at the former Foreign Legionnaire at her question about gravity, "Not that I could understand the science anyhow, but yeah." The one-woman rave draws a chuckle, "Man... bad memories of university." There's a pause, and he glances over at Rothschild again, "And some good ones."

"If they weren't careful, I could have made things very uncomfortable for some of the higher-ups." Whatever that means. Rothschild continues along, following directions as she goes. She keeps her focus on setting up the court, even while she listens to the back and forths between the Scorpian, Leonese-Scorpian, and Aerilon. Overhead, she looks up once as a Viper streaks in with its wing, and then she is back to her work. She starts to hum some Tauron jazz tune as she works -- something deep and soulful. It only mostly connects to Camila's body-swaying, and she casts a glance the woman's way before she starts to chuckle. The glance from Tavo her way is met with an arched look. "Hmph," is all she responds before she brushes her hands together. "Alright, I'm on duty stations for the next few hours, so I leave this to the rest of you." Then she grimaces. "And I'll even come play when I'm off duty." See? She can try new things.

Logan blinks as their nice wholesome pyramid court prepped is turned into a silent rave. He stares balefully at Camila and then looks to Tavo as if this is somehow his fault. "You know... this is why we need a stil." He informs the other man, "I don't know how to deal with this otherwise." He says indicating the oddly hip swaying woman. He waves at Roths, "Should be set up and worked in by the time you get off." He says brightly and returns to taping and then he offers to Tavo, "Think maybe we should have cheerleading squads?" He asks jerking a thumb towards Camila.

Camila's got moves to match Rothschild's jazzy music, never fear. But at Logan's words, she stops short. "Last rave I went to was in high school," she says, sharp eyes flicking toward the big (and substantially bigger than her) man. "But give me some glowsticks and some shitty rum and I'll remember how to start a bar fight with an asshole." Beat. "Maybe you can find some forms to use as a shield." Then, deliberately, she places two pieces of tape on the vertex Tavo has traced before chucking her glowing roll of tape over her shoulder in Logan's general direction. "Anyway, gotta go get some more footage before shuteye. Nice to run into some friendly faces, though. Don't be strangers."

Arching his brows in nearly-innocent question in the face of Rothschild's harrumph, Tavo chuckles and shakes his head, "Yeah, we'll make a fan of you yet." Logan's dire look draws a one-shoulder shrug from the Scorpian big man, "I say go with it. Tomorrow we'll probably be fighting again. And I say no cheerleading squads. Teach them to play." The comment about shitty rum, however, causes him to scoff, "Hold out for the good stuff." He nods a farewell to Camila as well, waits a beat pause after she starts moving away, then looks back to Logan, "Tiny." Another pause, "but fierce."

The Leonese noblewoman shakes her head with a wry smile tugging at her full lips. "Now I know who to take with me when we're on leave next and I need to dance." She winks to Camila before she starts to step away, handing off the neon tape to Tavo. She lingers long enough to squeeze his forearm in perhaps her most affectionate public exchange to date. Then she nods to Logan. "Don't let him use that shoulder, no matter how much he tries to wheedle you into it." She starts to head off in the opposite direction of Camila, waving her farewells in her direction too.

Logan grins at Camila, "I look forward to seeing you relive your memories. Nice meeting you." He doesn't seem particularly upset or concerned about Camila's response if anything Logan seems generally amused as he catches up some of the tape bending to pick up what was thrown at him. He nods to Tavo, "Well I suppose that's fair. Can we at least give them outfits." He says and then he grins at Tavo, "That seems to be the general model here. We seem to be the outliers." He says in amusement, "So far I'm pretty sure my own squad finds my presence suspect." He then inclines his head to Rothschild, "Wouldn't dream of it. Like he said we'll be in the thick of it again soon enough." He says wryly and he gets back to just setting up the court.

To Rothschild: "Count it." To Logan: frosty silence. And to Tavo, from a couple of feet away, with a grin invisible in the darknight and her trademark barking laugh that pierces it -- "Fierce is right." Then off Camila goes, last word had.

Tavo snorts at Rothschild's claim to Camila as a dance-friend, taking the tape from his fellow gunner, and then smiling at the squeeze on his forearm. He nods a little, swallowing the griping he had been able to voice -- until she warns Logan, when he grunts in disappointment and protest alike, but again doesn't gripe. Maybe he actually knows he shouldn't be using the shoulder. At least not yet. Instead, he shakes his head at Logan, "Oh, there's a couple more big guys, and some other tall women too." The fact that Camila heard his comment causes him to wince just a little, which in turn causes his shoulder to come up, which in turn causes him to wince harder and press his right hand to his left shoulder, "Ow. Frak it." Looking back to Logan, he shakes his head, "Didn't you ever use pyramid to pick up women? Gotta get them into trainers and shorts. Cheerleaders don't body up." Before he can embarrass himself further, a medic wanders into view, "Staff Sergeant... I'm pretty sure you're supposed to be on light duty." Tavo grimaces, handing over the tape to Logan, "Busted." And then he starts after the medic. "I'll catch up with you later, Lindus."


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