2237-07-29 - A Garish End

A group of wolves shop at the boardwalk. Some tastes are more garish than others.

Date: 2237-07-29

Location: Boardwalk

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 352

Jump to End

The sun is shining, and it's a warm day over Argentum Bay -- totally suitable for sunglasses, and not to hide a killer hangover, or anything, nope. Gage is taking it easy, strolling along the boardwalk, looking casual in khaki shorts and a white t-shirt that doesn't cover the tattoos across his arms and neck. Despite casual look, there's still something that screams military about him, undoubtedly in good part to his close-shaven head, but also his walk. He's pausing now and then at each of the tiny, niche shops, a brief conversation before moving on, like he's searching for something.

Speaking of sunglasses, Irene is in the process of being robbed, er, shopping for new ones at one of the little shop stalls that spill out onto the boardwalk. It's got all the good tourist essentials beyond just shades, such as hats, towels, Argentum Bay t-shirts, shell necklaces, carved driftwood things, the whole deal. She's already found the hat with possibly the widest, floppiest brim on the whole planet and is trying on sunglasses that are also going for some kind of record themselves. They are massive. Truly.

Gage steps up to the same shop that Irene is at, with a little visible grimace as his gaze goes across the wares. He says something quickly in Tauron to the shopkeeper, who shakes her head -- she doesn't speak Tauron, apparently -- and with a grunt, Gage turns to leave, slowing as he spots Irene. "If you're trying to go unnoticed, big hat and big sunglasses is a dead giveaway," he observes.

Irene checks herself out in the tiny mirror on the rotating sunglasses display, kissing the air between her and her reflection to see if her selection is compatible with like smooches and stuff. She's not convinced and is about to take them off when the unnoticed Tauron half startles her. Her recovery is quick and her smile small, but absolutely brilliant. "I just want to keep the sun off, and I didn't want anyone to notice if I was sleeping during long trips. The ECO likes to drive sometimes." She explains, putting the giantnormous shades back on the rack, "What were you looking for?"

"You doze off during long trips?" Gage's expression is, well... he looks like he's trying to settle somewhere between impressed and alarmed. "I suppose you're obligated to give your ECO something to do," he finally settles with, grudgingly. Folding arms across his chest, he glances back down the board for a moment, like he's coming up with a suitable story. "There's this root that grows on Tauron, <<Leadtail>> -- not really a word for it in Standard," he allows, after slipping into Tauran for a moment. "It's mostly considered a weed. My grandma used to let it dry in the sun in our house, grind it up into powder, and make my grandpa drink it after a heavy night. Best hangover cure I've ever come across. Of course, it tastes like shit, but..." he gives a shrug, as if to indicate that's the price you pay. He keeps his sunglasses on. Must've been a heavy night of drinking.

Irene slowly spins the display, even though she doesn't really look at it much while she's watching and listening to Gage. It's more her fingers that choose the next pair than her eyes. This time it's a more proper size, but the lenses are heart shaped and the frames bright red. She puts them on with the most prefunctory of glances first. They're very dark, which will be great for sleeping undetected... if she was serious. "No?" She answers before considering the problem at hand, "Oh, you know what's good for that? More beer, or you suck on a stone and stand barefoot in a wet patch of grass."

There's a snort from Gage as he eyes Irene's newest fashion accessory; he seems to think that reaction suffices for an opinion. "Hair of the dog is tempting, but I've got marine quals tomorrow. Ought to be sober." His head turns to study the passing crowds. "If I can't find any of this stuff, maybe I'll settle." Irene's latter offering earns a grunt, dismissive. "Old wives tales. Is that what you did this morning?" he asks, "Or did you escape your date early enough to not need it?"

"It totally works. Especially if someone is around to administer the last part." Irene insists, but she doesn't press beyond that. The heart glasses go back in their spot and the carousel is spun slowly around as she merrily continues, "I couldn't escape, so my drinking was almost completely curtailed. The very important people tend not to like when you're blowing whiskey in their faces with all the flattery. Makes it seem less sincere." She touches another pair, but loses interest before even trying them on. "I take it you drank all the shots."

Maybe the hangover's making Gage slow; he pauses for a moment, seemingly looking back at Irene. "The last part?" he asks, then grimaces. "What, tipping cold water over their head so they're in a puddle?" He shudders at the thought. "All the shots," he confirms. "That other girl with you -- she drank like a marine. Former marine," he grins, abruptly, before it fades. "Uh. What was her name again?"

"Well, on Virgon you just get hit with a green switch, usually across the back of your knees." Irene grins, pleased he more or less figured out the trick to the 'cure'. The rest is answered only after she picks out some mirrored shades that reflect Gage right back at himself in a silvery chrome. "Faye! She's alright. I met her on the beach yesterday after I tried to punch her in the head." And she says that like it's just the sort of thing that happens, how she usually makes friends.

Gage grunts. "And they call us barbaric," he mutters, only half joking. He seems to favor watching the stall itself, probably because it's less bright than outside, though he does squint at Irene when she picks her new sunglasses. "Those're the ones." He doesn't specify why, just lends his approval. "Faye, right," with a brief grimace, like he's trying hard to remember this time. He runs a hand over short-shaven hair. "You do that kind of thing often?"

"I try not to. It was just that I was playing ball in the water with some Marines and this Hibernian tried to drown me so I came up swinging." Irene explains, adjusting the glasses until they're just right and having a look for herself. She can't just trust Gage on matters of fashion. It's too important. "How do you meet people, then? Do you have lots of friends already?" She asks, not quite badgering but in rapid fire mode, softened by that charming smile of hers. There's a reason she's on recruitment posters back home.

"Sounds legit," though Gage's dubious expression -- somewhat masked by his own sunglasses -- might suggest he believes otherwise. While Irene examines her sunglasses, the engineer glances down the street, like he's considering the best way to bail and continue on his hunt for his elusive hangover cure. "Aint really here to make friends," he finally says, kind of shortly. "Gonna," he gestures vaguely down the boardwalk, shifts his weight and steps away. Maybe the fashion got to him, maybe he's uncomfortable with the question, or maybe he really needs that hangover cure, who can say.

"Hold on." Irene commands, slipping by the big dubious marine with the hangover to drop a stack of cubits for all the stuff she's bought so far. There's some conspiratory whispering with the woman at the counter too, but she doesn't take forever and a day at it. Hopefully Gage will still be lingering, or within chasing distance in the street by the time she's done and tracked him down. When she does, she presents him with a woven bracelet of colored string. "Here. It's a bracelet you give to Marines who don't want friends. That's what she said. So. I thought it matched your tattoo. You're welcome." She smiles.

As she's saying 'hold on', Gage is already a few steps out of the shop. Maybe he's heeding her request, or maybe he's just that slow; he's only two shops down -- getting another shake of the head in refusal -- by the time Irene emerges with her purchases. He turns, and stops when she presents him with a... present? One might get the feeling the marine's look would probably hold more weight if he weren't wearing his sunglasses, but he's unwilling to lift them in the brightness of the Scorpian sunshine in order to convey his dubiousness, so she'll just have to make do with his furrowed brow. "Uh-huh. Did she sell you a rock that brings you luck and a feather that brings you love, too?" He doesn't take the offered present. Rude!

Irene keeps holding the bracelet out like she just assumes the guy is a bit slow, on account of the hangover. Maybe if it sinks in that he's just flat out being rude, she'll punch him in the ear for it, but not yet. At the question, she actually looks down into the fabric tote hanging off her shoulder, filled as it is with her beach stuff and the random stuff she's already bought here. Thrifty, she most certainly is not, at least when it comes to buying touristy stuff. "I forgot what she said the feather does. Is it for luck in love?" That does make it immensely more interesting to her.

Leave is leave, and Aleksander is one to fully enjoy his before they are thrown back into the meat grinder, that is the life of a Marine. Barefeet, swimming trunks, a short sleeved shirt with the Foreign Legion emblem on the left breast, a pair of reflective shades, and of course, his treasured Legionnaire beret. No cigarette between his lips as he is walking down the stretch of sandy beach, enjoying the sights, whether it be the calm waves, the sand, or hotties that may pass by. Life is good for the Tauron right now.

That tableau remains for moments longer, while Gage tries to decide whether Irene is putting on an act or not. Finally, he takes the path of least resistance, taking the bracelet from her. Instead of putting it on, though, he stuffs it into the pocket of his shorts. Definitely rude. "That or being light as a," feather, presumably. He gives her an up and down, or presumably does, behind his shades -- which he doesn't dare lower -- "Don't think you've much need for that, though." He takes a step onwards, towards the next shop.

It is sort of annoyingly difficult to tell if Irene's just playing 'Daisy', or being serious. She was an actress before all this, after all. "I'm going to try the love angle." She decides aloud as her now emptied hand reaches up to hold onto the massive brim of her sun hat. It's big enough that she's already had it jostled by passersby. The last shoulder nearly took it off. Without much of an invitation, she strolls after Gage, looking ahead helpfully for the hangover cure store. The one that doesn't exist. "Hey, do you think pilots can do the marine qualifications? I think my uniform would look better with maybe four or five more badges."

After peeling his gaze off of two ladies in swimsuits that walk past, the looks being returned before the pair giggles to each other and continues on, Aleksander looks ahead again. That is when he catches sight of the other Marine, the one that always takes his cigarettes, though things are pretty square now with the delivery of new cartons. The woman with the giant brimmed hat next to Gage is not recognized, since her features are hidden behind the aforementioned headgear. "Corporal Tomak! I see you made it out from last night's event alive, yeah? And who is this young lady that you are accompanying?"

Gage seems to have settled with the 'no point arguing' level of resistance with Irene, which might explain why he doesn't object to her walking with him. Some of the stalls he passes by entirely, only a few here and there making him slow and throw out Tauran, <<Do you stock any leadtail?>> which is generally answered with a shake of head for lack of understanding rather than a direct answer to the question. After a moment, Gage glances at Irene, considering. "No harm in you qualifying for pistols, for whenever you get shot down," That's inevitable with pilots, right? "Or when you land in a hot LZ." He fairly winces at Alek's greeting, solely because of the volume. Someone's still got a hangover, it seems. He stops, waits until the other marine gets closer, and nods, "Davy. Thought I drank a lot last night, you don't recognize Harris?"

"I'm a good shot, but that's what I thought too. Not that I've ever been downed." Irene nods to herself thoughtfully, making the standard finger-thumb gun gesture as she reveals her mad proficiency with pistols. Real ones even. Hopefully. Her enormous hat is bumped again, so solidly this time that she half spins and falls a stride behind the Corporal she's tagging along with. She only catches up when Aleksander stops the parade. And to be fair, she has the hat and mirror shades on, and unlike last night she's not dressed in a halfway scandalous gown. Instead it's just a Threshers t-shirt, very short shorts and some wedge sandals that boost her up an entire inch or more.

"Frak. From one ship to another.. seriously?" Beckham is dressed in his duty togs, and apparently slightly lost because he turned the wrong way to try to find the rides heading towards the Dauntless. "Go away for a few months and someone goes off and wrecks the damn ship." he grouses mainly to himself, but loudly enough to be heard. To those that served on Galactica or the early days of Vanguard will recognize the medic.

"That's what happens when you don't moderate yourself when it comes to alcohol," But smoking a ton of cigarettes is just fine, isn't it? Aleksander says with an amused smirk at the hungover state that poor Gage is currently afflicted with. He then looks to the large hat and arches a brow, "Oh, sorry sir, it was the uh... hat." Plus she looks very different compared to last night, when she was in an eye catching red with some sort of Adonis at her side. "It's a very nice hat, sir." Perhaps trying to smooth things over with the officer for not recognizing her, since she may be their transport pilot in one of the near future missions." Being one of the newer transferred Marines, the Tauron does not recognize Beckham though his gaze does catch the rather lost combat medic, an amused smirk appearing.

"Not even while sleeping on the job?" Gage replies, wryly, to Irene, watching her thrash around with her overly-big hat for a moment, maybe a twitch of lips appearing, if briefly. "Good to hear, I guess. Just try not to outshoot the marines. It'll make 'em stroppy." Note that his phrasing seems not to count himself amongst that number, either because he's sure he'll outshoot her -- judging by the finger-firing -- or because he's not that egotistical. He grunts at Aleksander's words. "Weren't gonna let a flyboy outdrink a marine. Even if she's a former marine." He doesn't seem to recognize Beckham either, but then, he's stopped distractedly looking around.

"Thank you!" Irene replies cheerily enough, removing her sunglasses as she does, to fold them up and hang them by the arm from the collar of her shirt. Nothing like compliments about her giant hat to warm a girl's heart. "And not even." She briefly grins at Gage, taking her hand from brim to lay it flat and let it slide through the air - describing how smooth she keeps her flight, even asleep behind a dark pair of shades with the back of the bus full of nervous marines. The other Tauron is inspected after a few blinks against the blinding sun, "You don't look nearly as hungover as this guy. He wouldn't take the Virgon cure, either, has to find the herb thing from home or nothing at all." She too notices the uniformed lostie, brow arching mildly as she spares a few looks his way as if he may be familiar. She does fit the criteria, Galactica and Vanguard duty, but being a busdriver she's taxi'd quite a few faces around already.

<FS3> Beckham rolls Alertness: Good Success (8 7 6 5 4 4 2)

Beckham, however, did catch enough snippets of conversation to find a hook. "Weapon quals? Timber Wolves? Heard they were tomorrow evening." he offers, before putting on a thin smile. "Sergeant Beckham Dorn, formerly of the Timber Wolves, and returned again. Was trying to find the bus going to the new boat, but apparently.. just a little of course."

When Gage speaks of out-shooting the Marines, Aleksander laughs and shakes his head, "Talking about the qualifications? What a waste of time, just for a shiny little pin." The Tauron says as he turns his attention back to Irene and his smoker-in-arms, "But Tomak has a point, some care a /lot/ and if you wound their pride, you may see a tear form in the corners of their eyes." As for not being as drunk as the combat engineer, the ex-Legionnaire could only shake his head, "I didn't drink as much as he did, was... occupied." There is a pause before he levels his gaze at Gage, "You /didn't/ lose to the ex-flyer, I hope? If you did, you are banned from my cigarettes." He also asks his fellow Tauron Marine in their native language, using what is probably the same term for the hangover cure that the other man is looking for. When Beckham approaches though, Aleksander arches a brow before inclining his head to the other man as introductions are made, "Corporal Aleksander Davion. Welcome back to the fold, Sergeant."

"It's a root, not a herb," Gage corrects Irene, with a dissatisfied grunt. "And your cure is obviously dumb. Clearly Virgons don't get hangovers nearly as often as Taurons." He, notably, perhaps, doesn't bother with the 'sirs' that his fellow Tauron does. Beckham is eyed as he approaches, then given a nod. "Tomak," the marine says, briefly. "Aint due on the tin can for a couple more days at least, I hear." Hence why he's out in the sunshine, presumably, despite a Gods-awful hangover. "I'd call it about even," the marine grins at his fellow corporal. "On balance."

"But I want all the shiny little pins." Irene notes, damn the fragile egos of any marines that get in her way. She even draws a line below her collarbone across her shirt where all those magnificent pins and ribbons will eventually go. "You guys must have... delicate constitutions." She teases a bit, smile veering towards the realm of crooked. She might have gone on, too, but there's a lost medic. She lifts hand to brow in an informal, off-duty sort of salute. "Lieutenant J-G, Irene Harris. Welcome back, sergeant... I'm pretty sure I've seen you around." She adds after a sideways look at him.

"Prolly. If not me, my wife was a Timber Wolf as well." Beckham offers with a casual smile. "Nice to make your acquaintances." The sergeant considers for a moment, before giving a shrug. "Didn't mean to interrupt anything, if someone could point me in the direction of the port so I can catch a ride shipwards, I'd appreciate it."

At the mention of delicate constitutions, Aleksander can only smirk and shake his head, "I could care less about the qualifications, if you want, sir, you can take mine for me." It sounds like this particular Tauron is not planning on qualifying for any weapon. No shiny pin for him. "I was made a Legionnare and that is all I need." Seems like despite being in the Colonial Forces, the newly promoted Corporal is still very prideful with his military origin. Aleksander then turns his attention back to Beckham and looks down the beach, then up the beach before pointing in one direction, "Raptor pads are down there, in the military compound. It's a long walk though, so if you can, take the Q-Line one street over and it will drop you off one block away."

"Delicate constitutions, delicate egos," Gage is in agreement on that assessment, if perhaps just as a suitable distraction. He spots something across the way, and hastily steps away from the group, without so much as a by-your-leave. Maybe he needs to pee? Maybe not -- since he stops at a small stall. There's a brief, animated exchange -- the animation more on the shopkeeper's part than the marines, exchanging Tauran -- before Gage hands over some cubits and receives a small, wrapped package in turn. He doesn't quite hug it to his chest, but he does look pleased.

"With all the new birds they'll be running steady back and forth to the Dauntless." Irene helpfully notes, and after a breath she's positively beaming, "I finally even have a raptor with my name on it... and Wooly, my ECO too. I've caught him polishing it with his sleeve, but he won't admit it." She rolls her eyes, like he's just the silliest ever, after Gage with all his rudeness. She sends a look after him, but probably assumes he's finally found his remedy and lets him off the hook. "He would be so jealous on the inside if I had a pistol qualification. He's like you, pretends he's not into shiny pins."

"Go for all the shiny and colorful pins." Beckham offers. "Makes the stories for your grandkids better." Nodding to Aleksander, the medic offers a quick, "Thanks!" before he's turning to head off and giving them back their privacy as he turns with a slight stiffness as he heads off towards the bus line.

A nod is offered to the departing Sergeant before Aleksander watches as Gage jogs back towards them with a precious package in hand, "So you'll live, it seems, Tomak." He says with a grin before reaching into his pocket to pull out a lighter and a pack of smokes. Opening the pack, he shakes out a single stick and pulls it out with his lips. Then he lights the smoke and takes a couple of quick puffs, making sure the tip stays lit before he puts the lighter and pack away. "I'm going to miss this place when we are scheduled to ship out."

Instead of immediately returning to the group, Gage heads towards a stall with a variety of colorful-looking drinks. He picks the plainest-looking one, and spends some time mixing whatever-he-bought in with the liquid. Maybe longer than necessary, and the reason why is obvious in his disgusted expression as he chugs down the entire thing. For a moment he looks like he's going to be ill, but that passes, although there might be a sheen of sweat visible on his forehead as he steps back into conversational range. Strangely enough, he doesn't even try to immediately purloin a cigarette from Aleks as is his usual practice. He does, however, nod towards the other marine in agreement after a moment. "We never get deployed to beaches," he says, a typical complaint on his part.

Irene reaches into her tote and pulls out the pair of heart shaped, garishly red framed sunglasses she'd tried on earlier. She just couldn't resist them it would seem, so on they go, even though she still has the mirror ones hanging from her shirt collar. She watches the pair from behind the hearts, smiling without any particular focus to her expression. Dreamyland. Her only other motion is to reach up and hold onto the brim of her hat again after yet another bump. People are really not respecting her personal hat space bubble.

"I'm glad we haven't, I don't want the toasters to ruin beaches for me. Cylons in bikinis are not exactly my cup of tea." Aleksander says with a shake of his head as he takes the cigarette out of his mouth so he can talk. He was about to put it between his lips again for another puff when he watches Irene pull out a pair of very tacky sunglasses. When she puts them on, the Tauron looks aghast, "Really?" Is his only question, shaking his head again and now takes a puff of his deathstick.

Gage gives a snort at Aleksander's words, pauses for a moment, and grimaces. "Yeah, I hear that," he concludes, obviously thinking of some specific occurrence. Wiping a hand across his brow, the marine seems to be relaxing by measures. Maybe whatever he took is working, or maybe he just thinks its working. Either way, he's looking a tad more chipper. Although that's relative, with this marine, since he eyes Irene's sunglasses with a grimace as Aleksander draws attention to them. "Now that I know those sunglasses are your sleeping sunglasses, you know you can't get away with wearing them around me," he observes.

"I still outrank you. I'll order you to ignore my tactical naps." Irene decides, keeping the tacky glasses on and trying them out properly by looking directly at the sun overhead. Then down to Gage and Aleks, then back up at the sun. When she lowers her gaze again she finally notices a novelty t-shirt stand ahead that she hadn't until right that second. There's a soft gasp from her, enough to be vaguely startling and/or confusing, and then like a distractable hummingbird she slips between the two Taurons with a sideways bounce and heads right for that incredibly awful selection of tops.

When the Lieutenant bounces off towards the vendor that sells the eye-wounding shirts, Aleksander only has a look of disbelief before he looks over to Gage, then back to where Irene ran off to. "I think... I'm going to go find a bar." Perhaps he is in search of some alcohol to rub his eyes with at this point, with what the Raptor pilot is trying to torment them with. The Tauron looks back to the combat engineer, saying, "You know she's doing this on purpose now, right?"

Either Gage is feeling better, or it's worth the pain of lifting his sunglasses to the comparatively-blinding sun to give Irene a flat sort of look. "I'd like to see you try," he throws out, like a challenge. Except then she's off, to look at fashion. Gage exhales, rolls eyes skywards, and slips his sunglasses back down. "Gotta spare one?" he asks, of Aleks. Definitely feeling better now. "How'd you go finding your Leonese Princess, by the way?" He looks envious as the other marine mentions a bar. He's trying to be good. As Aleksander mentions the officer, he glances after Irene. "Yeah, figured. Kind of interested to see how far she'll take it though," with a sudden grin.

The color choices alone could cause some severe visual trauma. If the shirts aren't black or white, they're a shade of eye blistering neon almost to the very last. The few that aren't are tropic beach-y pastels, which are almost as bad in a way. Irene is down with all of that, but then she has her sunglasses on so they must offer some modicum of protection. That or she has a very specific form of fashion blindness. She takes a banana yellow one down and holds it up to eyeball the size, but it's big for her, and too small for the menfolk. It's put back with some sadness, but another, toxic ooze green, is held as she looks back to Aleks and Gage. It's like she's trying to size them from afar.

The request for smokes is answered with Aleksander fishing out the pack again, giving it to Gage so he can grab one for himself before taking out the lighter as well. "Yeah, minus the Princess. But found a Leonese naval officer. She drank enough where she wasn't afraid of dancing with a Marine. I think it was the beret. Women love berets." That does explain the Tauron's absence last night after he stepped out for a smoke. As for Gage's intent, Aleksander shifts his gaze from the clothing store back to the other Marine, "You madman, you just want to see the world burn, don't you." Then his attention is back to Irene as she is admiring the ooze green shirt, "No... no, no, no. She can't."

Gage definitely doesn't spend long looking Irene's way. Hangover cure or not, those t-shirts are way-too touristy colored for his retinas to handle so soon after a big night. Unfortunately this means he doesn't cotton on to what Irene might be planning with said shirts. Taking a cigarette out of the offered packet, he gives a mute nod of thanks to Aleksander as he lights up, inhales, and exhales smoke in one smooth, practiced movement. "Naval officer, huh?" he grins, clearly out for more details, judging by his gesture of go on. The latter accusation earns a brief, low chuckle. "It's the small things, Davy." He glances past, following the other marine's gaze, "What's she... ow. She wouldn't." He hasn't know Irene long, but, with a grimace. "Gods. She would."

Oh wait, maybe everyone will be spared the terrible green one. Irene leaves it and moves on, carefully reading all the super clever captions she sees, until one in particular tickles her fancy. Off goes her hat, left balanced precariously on the stall's counter and on goes a painfully hot pinky-orange shirt right over her Threshers tee. Since it fits, she puts some cubits down and goes back to shopping with her new score, hat returned to head after the exchange. "Blue or purple?" She eventually calls back to the pair.

When the crazy Lieutenant moves on, discarding the green, Aleksander releases a sigh of relief, as if a grenade landed in their foxhole and it turned out to be a dud. With a shake of his head, the Tauron takes back the pack of cigarettes and lighter, stuffing them back into his pocket. "Was just a good time, we went to the beach, was cooler outside. She's shipping out... tomorrow I think? But she had to report back to her ship today." Davion is certainly not going into any particulars, a gentleman never tells, right? "We both knew what it was going in, she in the navy, I'm a Marine grunt." There he shrugs before his eyes brighten, "Oh! While we were there I saw something... /unexpected/. A group were having a wedding on the beach too, further away."

The temptation to call out, neither, is clear for a moment in Gage's expression. But he knows this freight-train cannot be stopped, and so he replies, "Blue," albeit grudgingly. He blows smoke, as if to vent his frustration, although Aleksander's words are suitable distraction. "Shame. Could write her?" with a grin, "Or not. A wedding?" his brows go up, shaking his head. "Didn't notice it while we were stumbling back to the base. Don't remember, anyway. Anyone we know?"

Electric blue. Oh yeah. Irene can dig it. That's another purchase, and she gets a sickly purple one too, just because. What's a few more cubits in the pursuit of fun? She carefully places both on top of everything else already in her bag and mosies on back to the pair of Taurons. Now she's blinding. That shirt of hers is a work of art, dominated by a pleasant oceanside beach at sunset scene in a circle frame with "Beach, please" following the curves. So tacky. She doesn't even say a word about it, but stands there, smiling contentedly as she perks her ear to the trailing bits of the conversation she's able to catch

The suggestion of writing her has Aleksander laughing, "No, we both knew what it was going in, Tomak. Shore leave, a Colonial Fleet celebration. If she was a Princess though... I may have written a letter." The rifleman does glance back to where Irene was purchasing a shirt, not calling out a color as he knows it was futile if she wanted to blind them further. "Might have been a couple of wolves, saw some recognizable dress uniforms out there. I didn't venture too close, looked like a private affair, not my place to interrupt." Not to mention he was a bit distracted himself. When Irene returns, Aleksander looks back at the Lieutenant before quickly averting his gaze, "Oh Gods, my eyes. Tomak, I think they need to give us a Sacrifice Medal for this."

"Guess we'll find out soon enough, if the gossip flies as quickly on the Dauntless as it did on the Vanguard," Gage says, ruefully. The LT's return definitely requires sunglasses down, Gage grimacing as he does so. "Any brighter, you're going to flag down passing ships to land nearby," is his way of welcoming back Irene, by way of an opinion on her pinky-orange addition. He blows smoke, but not in her direction. Rude, but not that rude, and less so now he's feeling better. "Lean into it, Davy," he advises, in an undertone.

Irene glances down, realizing that her sunglasses are now making her cool new shirt look all bulgey at the collar. That won't do at all, so she fixes that, by plucking them out from underneath and putting them into the bag with whatever else she's got. It's starting to look a bit heavy, what with the new T-shirts, towels, and probably a few black market toothbrushes. "Thank you! And really? No letter if they aren't royalty? You two are real charmers." She playfully admonishes as she pulls both sides of her hat brim down with either hand to squeeze between the marines.

Hearing Gage's words, Aleksander can only scowl as he pretends to look up into the sky, as if on the lookout for passing Raptors, "I swear, if a bus lands on us... I am going to file a complaint with the Air Wing." Then the cigarette is placed back between his lips as he takes another puff, away from the Lieutenant's direction before an eyebrow is arched at her words, "What? I'm not courting anyone. She probably already forgotten my name." Truth of the matter is, he had already forgotten hers, but there will be no mention of that of course.

"Davy's the one that has a minimum Princess-level before writing requirement," Gage, such a friend, is thumbing the accusation at Aleksander. "He can have 'em all, far as I'm concerned." An amused snort follows Davy's glance upward. "On the upside, bus lands on you, guess you get to stay here by the beach for a bit longer." He seems, if anything, bemused at the way Irene squeezes between them, politeness, if nothing else, making him ease back to make room for her. "You done for the day?" he tips his head towards Irene's bag. Surely full hands means shopping's done, right?

"I can't speak for all busdrivers, but we generally avoid the bright colors." Irene solemnly notes as her hands drop from the brim and it springs up with enough spring that it looks like she might fly off for a second. She needs both hands to check her bag, and sort through the contents with care, taking full inventory. There's a sharpish nod when she's satisfied. "I am done, unless I see something really amazing on the way back." And she probably will. "So. I'm going to find a bar, and find a prince who wants to write me letters. Coming?"

Aleksander immediately snaps a glare at Gage when he is tossed under the path of a Raptor that is taking off. As Irene squeezes in, the rifleman just sighs and turns his gaze towards one direction, in the base's direction, "Was that what you two were doing? Shopping for ridiculous items? What else does she have tucked away in that satchel?" Then he looks at the shorter Raptor pilot that stands between them, arching a brow, "What, aren't you supposed to land where the person who wears that super bright shirt, waving the two bright lamps, tells you to?" It looks like Davy has seen one too many movies. As for finding a bar with a Prince, Aleksander snorts, "I could use for a couple of cold brews. You alive enough to drink some more, Tomak?"

"Do you?" Gage squints at Irene. "Do they test you for color-blindness, too?" he wonders, blandly. He glances at Aleksander, then back to Irene. "I'll come, but just for one drink." Maybe he'll last one round before giving in to a second, or a third. He gestures with a thumb towards Irene, "She was shopping for ridiculous items. I was looking for much needed hangover cure, which I am bringing on the Dauntless with me." He pats the package tucked and bulging in his short pocket as he starts moving.

"Raptors land wherever they want." Irene says quite seriously, but she's soon smiling like little Sally Sunshine again. Especially when Aleks takes even a passing interest in her bag of ridiculous tourist items. It earns him a drinking mug, emblazoned with 'Shells Yeah! - Argentum Bay, Scorpia' and a line drawing of the beach, more or less. "Here! You can save it for when you meet that special woman and really want to impress her, or keep it and use it yourself." She's okay with either option, and especially okay with hunting down a drink and a prince. Off she'll go, squeezing in between the two guys again, and staying there this time.

Shaking his head at Gage, Aleksander says, "We probably won't need much of it on the Dauntless, I have a feeling they're not exactly going to allow us to drink like we did last night." When Irene begins producing items for the Tauron, he looks at the mug and then a drawing, as if completely puzzled by why he has them now, "Er... you can have these back, I have no where to put them." And there is no way in Hades he is going to be carrying the two tourist items around, especially if they are going to hit up a bar.

"I'm sure there'll be some need for it. One reason or another." Gage's mouth thins briefly. "Haven't heard anything on where we're headed next. Back to Picon, or somewhere else." His brow quirks, as if inviting the other two to offer up any gossip they may have heard. He sets an easy pace, not often easing out of the way of traffic coming in the other direction, angling for a bar at the corner up ahead.

Irene just slips her thumb under one of the tote bag's straps to lift it off her shoulder and opens it up. Aleks can drop the mug back in, she'll only be mildly upset on the inside and probably won't shank him later. "Alright. If you don't want it, I'm sure Wooly will." She says, leaning a bit to try and read some of the signs above her that her hat brim is mostly blocking. Bar? Nope. Bar? Nope. "I thought I'd heard Picon again, but who knows. Has anyone been watching the news?" She clearly hasn't, judging by the tone she poses the question in.

"Doesn't matter where they send us, Tomak. One place is just like another, the only difference is the color of the ground and sturdiness of the terrain. Wherever we go, there will be toasters for us to blow up, simple enough." Life is simple for a Marine, especially for a rifle. He just points and shoots. Easy peasy. When the tote bag is opened up, Davy places the items back inside, a quick peek taken as well when the items are deposited. "Who's Wooly, your pet dog? And I live a simple life, I find no need to decorate my bunk with these... items." A rather spartan set up if anyone checks. The question about the news, Aleksander shakes his head, "Nah, I avoid stuff like that. Information that we don't need, really."

"Deliberately avoiding it," Gage says, on the subject of news. "Didn't want to ruin the leave. I'll catch up on them before he leave dock." He exhales briefly, blowing smoke out before taking a last drag on his cigarette, slowing behind the other two to crush it out underfoot. "Not sure the Dauntless will be able to go as under the radar as the Vanguard did, if we're heading back to Picon. But maybe the bombing of Isleboro and the Bay was the last straw." He glances vaguely towards the docks, and muses, "Maybe they're sending the new Battlestar along with us." At Alek's words, he shakes his head in disagreement. "Matters, if you're running with people that have family here. Walker's family is on Picon."

"My ECO." Irene sneaks in there, clearly amused by the guess. She doesn't explain why the guy is named Wooly, but those guys all have weird callsigns. "I imagine, given all this new firepower, we'll be going somewhere dangerous. That's how it works. The worst place possible? That's our next destination. That's how it always went in the Virgon Royal Navy." Not that she's overly upset, mind, but her smile does get a little washed out.

There is a slight shrug from Aleksander as he doesn't disagree with Gage, "True enough, Tomak, but for me, I don't look at the news at all. It can only distract you from what you're supposed to do." A simple philosophy from the ex-Legionnaire, one he is more than willing to share with the companions at his side. When Irene clarifies that Wooly is her ECO, a simple 'Oh' comes from Davy, as he realized he may have just dubbed an officer a dog. "Well, you guys in the sky have new firepower. On the ground, we have the same guns, same grenades, same armor. But I'm glad to know that we have more teeth if we have to dance with a Basestar again."

"Worst place?" That needs only a moment's consideration from Gage. "That'd have to be Aquaria. But doubt they're sending us there. Word is command's given up on it." It's, perhaps, merciful that they reach the bar, Gage pushing inside rather than holding open the door for the other two. It's cooler and darker inside, both welcome, and it allows the marine to push sunglasses up onto his head as he glances around for a spot to claim. He smirks a bit at the confusion about ECO/dog. "I'll stick with my surname. Less confusing. I see a table. Someone get drinks?" he makes a beeline for a table.

Irene sucks a breath in through her teeth, as if she's pained by even the thought of going to Aquaria next. Maybe she'll just stay here in this nice, cool bar in beautiful Argentum Bay. It has its appeal. The table Gage picks is clean enough, and there's room enough for her bag on one of the chairs so she dumps it and rolls that shoulder. It was getting heavy with all that touristy junk in it. "I'll have something sweet, please." She requests, implying that Aleks is on the hook for getting the drinks, or at least this first round. She smiles at him so nicely, how could he possibly refuse? She'll even add an excuse, "I just need to freshen up first." So she wanders off.

Aleksander also removes his sunglasses though his beret remains, the eyeware being hooked onto the color right by his neck, so it sits in the middle of his shirt. Since Irene volunteers him on the drink, he begins heading in the direction of the bar. Pushing up to it, he squeezes himself into an opening and waves down the bartender, either ignoring any protests from others who may have been waiting or daring them with a look to do something about it, wielding intimidation like a valuable tool. "Two cold ones and one... drink that is sweet and obnoxiously colorful please. As bright as you can make it." Cubits are placed on the counter, a little bit extra for the special request.

Gage hunkers down onto one of the chairs -- or rather sprawls and spreads out his legs by way of claiming the table. Maybe he peers into Irene's bag, out of curiosity, or so he knows what horrors await should he happen to see them in future -- the bright colors a little less offensive to his eye in the dimmer light of the bar. He straightens marginally and eases back when he notices Aleksander returning with the drinks. "<<She's a force of nature,>>" Gage observes to Aleksander in Tauran, amused. Maybe even a little admiring.

The drinks are made and pushed over to Aleksander, across the bar counter which the Marine says his thanks. He isn't bothered by those near him that were waiting, perhaps a grouchy word spoken here or there, but no fights break out, the Tauron behaving for now. The handles of the two beers are grasped in one hand while the super colorful drink is taken by the other. Then Davy makes his way back to the table that Gage had picked, setting the beers down for them while the empty seat that is supposed to be Irene now has a colorful drink sitting in front of it. Hearing Gage using the Tauran language, Aleksander can only smirk again as he grabs a seat and relaxes as well, <<I think you are over-estimating how strong nature is, compared to her. At least she isn't like some of the officers though, with a stick shoved up their asses.>> Sounds like he feels the latter is /much/ worse.

Giving a nod of thanks towards the other marine, Gage reaches for one of the beers with a tip of mug in silent toast to the other Tauron. He takes a deep, appreciative drink, gulping down a good quarter of the mug in one hit. "<<I don't know. My father used to warn me about women like that. Said they'd roll over you before you'd even realize what happened. Never understood what he meant by that before.>>" He smirks, briefly. "<<Not like other officers,>>" he agrees, equally unsettled by such a thing, but that doesn't mean he doesn't use it as an excuse to toast.

After a time, Irene returns, sans tacky glasses and down to single t-shirt, the new fantastically extreme pinky-orange one. The well worn Threshers t-shirt is just a folded square of grey that she tucks into her bag before she sets the whole deal on the floor and claims her chair. Her face looks a little damp, her cheeks and forehead a touch red, probably from the all the sun and heat. Virgon isn't known for it's tropical clime, after all. "Oooh!" Is the very first thing she says, because of the drink. She approves. "Thank you. I take back what I said earlier, at least one of you is a charmer."

Hearing that, Aleksander can't help but laugh as he picks up his own mug, <<Question is, do you understand what he means now? That's what's important.>> Amused for sure, he brings th beer to his lips and begins draining it, half of the beer gone before he pulls it away with a satisfied sigh. Luckily he had already swallowed the beer or he would have spit it all out when Irene appears with the pink-orange monstrocity. <<I don't think even your father knows of this kind of terror, Tomak.>> Is the last thing Davy says in Tauran as Irene rejoins them at the table. "Your new shirt puts it to shame, Lieutenant." Losing the battle of colors with the drink he picked for her.

"<<Think you might be right,>>" Gage says, with a twitch of lips as he jerks a thumb at Aleksander in response to Irene's words. Because Davy's the charmer, presumably. He grimaces a little when he sees that Irene's kept the bright-as t-shirt. "<<See what I mean?>>" he adds in Tauran to Aleksander, amused, as he takes a gulp of his beer, relaxing back into his chair. That's not at all a cough trying to hide a grin, no. Just a downed-it-too-fast-cough, yup.

Irene settles in, a brow slowly rising as the Tauran is exchanged. Even if she understands it, she probably doesn't get it. She did miss the majority of the talk already. She'll just look at them with vague suspicion, rub the stiffness out of her shoulder where the bag straps were digging in and watch the pair. Something's up. "It's funny how alike you two are, in a way." She notes, smile half flattened out, stronger at one corner of her mouth than the other.

No more Tauran from Aleksander though there is a shake of head to Gage before he frowns when Irene compares himself with the other Marine, "Alike? I'm a Legionnaire, he's not." Well, he's technically not one at the moment after his transfer to the Colonial Forces but that is something that no one will ever convince the Tauron of. "Plus, he knows how to blow stuff up and... architecture?" A wild guess at the civil engineer's ability. "I know how to shoot straight." Which could easily be incorrectly inferred that he means Gage can't.

"Not sure what you're getting at," Gage replies, deliberately blandly, at Irene's observation of his and Aleks' similarities. He stays away from the Tauran as well now, as likely as for the LT's looks as for the uncertainty about whether she understood any of that or not. He gives a snort at Aleksander's list of their differences, though doesn't disagree. "Just because we're both Tauran..."

The not as bright as her shirt drink is reached for once the Irene's shoulder is softened up enough. The responses obviously amuse her to no end, as if somehow they've proved her observation, despite the sundry list of differences given. "You're both cute in a weird way. I mean, in a very brawny and serious manner." She offers with a soft laugh before lifting the glass for a wordless toast and a long sip. It passes. So she has another. "I hope you're both forgiving too, because I'm going to have to drink and dash on you. I have to report to the Dauntless shortly."

The compliments draw another frown, a look of suspicion from Aleksander at what Irene is preparing for this time. It does make him look a little bit more serious but when she says that she will have to depart soon, his expression relaxes again. "If duty calls, then duty calls." Lenaing back in his seat, the Tauron goes back to drinking his cold brew.

The bland look Gage gives Irene suggests that neither 'cute', nor 'weird' is taken as a compliment by the Tauran. "I'm forgiving, as long as you take that with you," he's gesturing towards Irene's chest. Or, presumably, the garish t-shirt she's wearing. He gives a nod of agreement to Aleks as he downs another quarter of his mug.

"I'm glad I didn't get you a matching one, Tomak." Irene yawns behind her glass which she then presses to her cheek for a moment to soak up what little chill is left in the drink. Not enough. She tips some more back before calling it good enough and rising from her seat, scooping her bag up from the floor as she goes. "Thanks for the company. Hopefully I won't be landing a bus on you any time soon." There's a flash of a smile, the bag is swung onto her shoulder and she heads out with a completely informal sort of salute at the pair.


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