2237-07-29 - Meet Mom

While Evan is out, his mother stops by to meet the 'new girl.'

Date: 2237-07-29

Location: Evan's Loft

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 370

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It is the morning after the ball, where the forced dress up was followed by good partying. That evening Evan had kept Charlie out for awhile, then they came back to his loft where the rest of the evening progressed until the early morning light had finally crept through the windows. His collection of gentle kisses had come with him dozing off in the gentle sun as it snuck in through the window.

He had awoken a short time after lunch, whispered to Charlie he was going to run out and get them some lunch, or brunch, something along those lines and had departed to let her continue with her morning, be it sleeping, lounging, showering... whatever it was that would entice her. Evan had been gone now for about 35 minutes when the sound of the door opening downstairs was heard and a female voice; older, could be made out talking to someone over a wireless.

There were tired protests at the thought of Evan leaving, but food was enticing. Charlie lazed about in bed for a bit longer before getting herself through the shower. She's only half-dressed (the lower half; in shorts) when the door opens. "I hope you got us something with a lot of protein-" she calls as she starts down the stairs from the loft above, only to then realize it's a female voice. Not Evan. Definitely not Evan. With a sound of surprise, the sniper sort of backpedals into a retreat so she can quickly find herself the rest of her clothes.

"Evan's not here," she calls down, digging around for a top and quickly tugging it on. One of the plain halters she's been wearing this week. "But he should be back soon!"

The woman's voice can be heard on the wireless, "I'll call you back in a second." There's definitely a humored tone to it as she looks up. The first announcement from Charlie about Protein was enough to draw the woman's eyes that direction, then seeing the Marine scurry off and well, she is simply laughing.

The woman is short in stature, slim as well with brilliant red hair and sharp eyes. For what appears to be 50 she still has a fetching look but a stern demeanor from having to deal with an army of children. The woman matches a few pictures around, probably easy to piece together that it's Evan's mother. "Who the 'ell said I was 'ere to see him, hmm?" Her accent is thick and tone very amused as she calls back up the stairs.

With braids still damp from her shower, Charlie appears at the top of the stairs again. There's a quick glance to the door before she starts down them; feet bare, but otherwise at least modestly clothed. Her scars are visible and the halter? Well, with the tie behind her neck and the fabric crossing low over her back... that tattoo will be visible. She was only thinking of being dressed: not the new ink. "Well, I just figured..." Once she's down to the main floor of the apartment and better able to take the other woman in, the Piconese woman offers a hand out -- albeit sheepishly -- to the redhead. "Charlie Wagner," she offers in greeting. "I'm... guessing you're Mrs. Calhoun." She's spent time going over the photos, of course, and having Evan point out his siblings. Sometimes multiple times. It took her a while to remember who was who.

"Mmmmhmmm." The woman says with a warm smile and reaches out for Charlie; oh no, she's a hugger. A hand shake simply won't do. "I know who you are dearie. It's hard not to know who you are considering the way my boy dances around it like he's trying to hide the fact he took something from the cookie jar." Leaning back now, she looks up at Charlie, yes she's shorter. "Let me get a look at you."

"Oh-" A hug. Charlie looks a bit surprised, "We're doing this." But she doesn't fight it, she's just awkward as hell about it. At the very least, she doesn't just stand there. She's just not full-embrace-in-return about it. More gentle, unsure pat on the back in return until she can lean back on her heels. "I, uh, think he was just, well... I mean, he had to come home because of some pretty..." She cuts herself off and takes a deep breath. "It's not like he was home under the best circumstances, m'am. I wouldn't hold it against him that he didn't want to discuss me." She tries to put on a smile, but being examined by your boyfriend's mother is strange. Especially considering it's something she's not used to. In the least. So she just adds, quietly: "I'm sorry for your loss. I would have come with him if I could." That much at least is true.

The woman nods, smiling a bit (her name, as given by Evan is Erica). Looking over Charlie she backs off a bit and starts to make her way to the kitchen, taking a moment to sort of gather her thoughts at the mention of his visit. "Well, it is what it is." Erica affirms after a moment, starting to sift through Evan's cupboards, seeking. "My husband, Lords rest him, was told to stop eating certain things but the lunk head insisted and ... well it caught up to him." She pauses then and smiles, "I appreciate the words lass... and offering to come with. That's --" She trails then, a studious look on her face. "Evan didn't talk about you because of the situation dear. He didn't want to talk about you cause he's embarrassed." Erica, clearly, is blunt.

"My father is much the same. He's had to stop eating red meat. Fortunately my mother does all the cooking." Charlie offers a small smile, slowly following the woman towards the kitchen. She tucks her hands into the pockets of the cut-offs she wearing, elbows winging out to the sides a bit. There's a slow sigh from her as her chest deflates some. "Well, he, ah- he told me what his brother did. Said." She looks towards the door, hoping a bit. Now would be a good time, Evan. "I'm.. not entirely surprised he was embarrassed."

"Hmm? Oh that whole mess, well yes. If it makes you feel any better Evan gave him a good pummeling. But no, that's not what he's embarrassed about deary." Erica claps her hands, apparently having found what she was looking for. A bottle of whiskey is pulled out along with a pair of glasses that she begins to fill. "No, he's embarrassed because he went and fell in love with someone." There's a soft chuckle from the woman, definitely not girlish either. "His whole time growing up, 'Ma I'm not going to fall in love, so stop asking 'bout family and other shit'." Erica's immitation of Evan isn't half bad.

"Ah." Charlie doesn't know what to say for a moment. She does look a bit relieved at seeing the whiskey. Alcohol makes everything easier. And better. And easier! "Well, that sort of makes two of us. Only I was never vocal about it. I just... didn't see it ever happening." Leaning against the breakfast bar as she watches Erica, there's a small shrug from the woman. "So I guess I can see where he's coming from in that regard."

"Mmmhmm." Erica affirms, sliding one of the glasses of whiskey to Charlie before taking a sip herself from one. "Pretty girl. Not afraid of a fight if those are an indication?" She nods towards some of the scars, "Definitely not his type, that's for sure. That boy was all about the little princesses and those... horrible trampy sorts. You know the ones? Hang out in bars and just... ugh." There's a genuine dislike from Evan's mother when mentioning some of those types of girls, and a matching warmth in her eyes while talking to Charlie.

Extracting her hands from her pockets, Charlie reaches for the glass. There is a sort of self-conscious glance towards her scars- especially when the mention of Evan's usual type comes up. "Wouldn't be much of a marine if I shied from a fight," she quips, putting on a brief smirk before she lifts the drink. A good half the glass is downed in one fell swoop. Sure, it may still be early in the day, but she has nerves to settle. "Sure, I know the type. Surfing was... well, fairly dominated by them. It's part of why I quit."

"Surfing, hmm?" Erica asks, eyebrow quirking up some. "Yeah, I can see that type. All... yeah." She shakes her head then moves to get some ice for her own glass, apparently liking her early afternoon whiskey on the rocks. "So from surfing to Marine. Quite a change there. What I'm not, is a fighter. Well, not like that. Always kept my nose out of the clan business, tried to keep the family noses out too except for that boy." She indicates Evan's loft with a sweep of her hand. "He never understood until this last visit."

"It's the adrenaline," Charlie answers, tapping a finger against the side of her glass. She only briefly looks up from it to Erica, watching the woman. "Surfing and... well, being a marine. They both have it. And-" she casts a glance around. "I... think it's the same reason Evan is one, too. I... didn't expect a war- I mean, none of us did, but I know it's why I enlisted. Why I ended up in recon. It was a different kind of rush."

Erica studies Charlie in turn for a few moments before she walks back to the breakfast counter and leans on it, "How much has my boy told you about his past? Before the war, what he used to do?" She doesn't sound conspiratorial about it, but is measuring.

"Not much," Charlie admits with a small shrug. "But... I haven't told him much about mine, either. We tell each other stories sometimes. I figure he'll tell me what he wants, when he wants." She looks to the glass before taking another sip; not nearly so much this time.

"I went a good chunk of my life not knowing all of Earl's life. It wasn't that he kept it hidden from me, but instead I just didn't care. That's what love does. It blinds us to things that don't matter as much. At least, I think it does." Erica seems to be waxing poetic for a bit, contemplating before she looks over at Charlie, "If you ever ask him anything and he won't answer, beat him."

"I like not knowing all at once. Gives us things to talk about." Charlie's lifting her glass for a drink when Erica mentions beating Evan and she sort of chokes on the whiskey, snorting into the glass. The woman goes into a bit of a coughing fit, but laughs through it as she sets the glass heavily on the counter. She coughs a few more times as she gets through it. "Yeah, I'll just-" She clears her throat. "I'll just make sure next time, it's not in front of half the ship."

Erica smiles, warmly, as if relieved that Charlie did in fact beat up her son at some point. "That's good lass. That's good. Knowing how to keep them Calhoun men in step is a delicate act you know. They're stubborn, always trying to take on too much. Sometimes a soft touch is needed, and when that fails, the hard end of a boot. I must have busted Earl's nose a good half dozen times in our years when he forgot that this was a partnership."

"I... I think he's well-aware that I'd kick his ass if I had to, m'am," Charlie offers after she clears her throat at least once more. "It's the recon way, after all. Wouldn't do for my reputation if I didn't." She offers a brief sort of smile before straightening, once she's fully recovered. "Can't, uh, say I'm very good at the rest of it, but I at least know how to make sure a man doesn't forget when he's wronged me."

"He will deary." Erica says with a sad smile, "And you'll wrong him too. It isn't the wronging that's the issue, it's how you cross that bridge when you come to it. Very few things, I suspect, are truly unforgiveable and those that are... well, they are. But if it's not on that list; it'll hurt but truth is darling..." Erica trails, looking a bit wistful for a second, "Truth is the toughest, bravest thing anyone can do is to put family first. That's the true test of someone."

There's a flash of uncertainty and fear across Charlie's features. It's something she tries -- very quickly -- to hide. Taking her glass, she moves to the whiskey bottle and pours more. She even offers to top off Erica's. "We're honest with each other," she says, opting to ignore the 'family' part of that whole statement. Just sliding along as if she didn't even hear it. Nope. Nothing about family there. "But I'm doing my damndest to not frak up. I warned him I probably would, 'cause that's just what I am, but I'm... I'm trying."

"That's all anyone can ask." Erica says with a grin before she finishes her whiskey and sets the glass down. "Alright deary, you'll need to excuse me." Turning, the woman starts down the hall for the restroom.

As soon as the older woman is gone, Charlie upends her glass and downs the rest of it. Sure, it might be a bit early in the day to be drinking, but she needs it. 'Meeting the parents' is wholly new on her. Completely. Sure, Evan went through it, but not as an out-and-out boyfriend. He didn't have to go trough any full discussions with either of her parents. That she knows of, at least. Certainly not with her mother. Setting the empty glass down, she leans her forearms on the counter and hunches over, closing her eyes as she takes slow breaths. "Frak me," the woman mumbles under her breath.

Erica is gone for a few minutes and then she returns shortly after, starting into the kitchen and heading towards where she had set her purse on the counter. "Well then darling. Any idea when the lot of you head back out?" The tone is conversational as she sets about checking through her purse for keys and other items.

As soon as Charlie hears the woman returning, she straightens and gathers herself back together. Smoothed expression, casual body-language. It's not just a recon thing; it's a Charlie thing. "Just another day or two at most. There's people already moving onto the ship, so I'm sure word will come any time now."

"Hmm." The woman observes the nods, "Probably not enough time to get the family together for a dinner, perhaps next time." She doesnt' sound overly disappointed, almost more amused. The woman is clever enough to know when her son is dodging her. "Well, it was nice meeting you Charlie Wagner." Erica pauses as she turns to grab her bag, eyes looking at Charlie's shoulder for the first time, "That new?" She asks it with more amusement in her voice.

"Perhaps next time." Because now that they know about her, Charlie is sure that she's not going to get out of it. And that if she joins Evan in weaseling her way out, there will likely be hell to pay down the road. At the very least, she can imagine that she'd want to knock someone upside the head for doing so and she doesn't even have kids. When Erica asks about the tattoo, she suddenly remembers not only its presence... but that she's wearing something that shows it. Some color does show across her cheeks. "...yes, yes it is," she admits after a moment, with a sidelong glance to the Calhoun woman.

"And... you chose that?" Erica asks with a tilt of her head. "Because it looked nice or for some other reason?" There's definite curiousity now, enough that she's paused her depature enough to hear the response.

How to answer this. Charlie drums her fingers briefly on the breakfast bar, looking down at its surface as she thinks. "We... had been drinking," she says finally. That, at least, should come as no surprise. "And Evan wanted a tattoo for his father. I... decided to get one as well and I... guess there was a bit of a... miscommunication with the artist as to- uhm, certain... specifics in regards to mine."

Erica cannot help but chuckle at that as she swings her purse over her shoulder. "It isn't anything bad. It's just very... clan based is all. A lot of tourists get them. But I suspect, if you went to where Evan took you, it wasn't meant for a tourist. Humor me, what do you think it symbolizes?"

"Well.. I'm our squadron's designated marksman. Our sniper." Charlie turns from the counter finally, looking to the woman. "I wanted a tattoo that represented that. I... watch over the others and-" She shrugs, finally. "I take out the Cylons before they can get to my team mates." Pause. "Or try, at least. I don't remember much, but I remember trying to get that across to the artist and I'm not sure how good a job I did, to be honest. But so long as it's nothing bad, hey, I'm doing better than a lot of marines who got tattoos while drunk."

Erica laughs again and nods, "It's not exact translation of course. But the jist, at least if I were to glance at it? Would read kind of like, protector of the blood that is not my blood. Which makes sense when you explain the meaning you wanted to get across, hmm?" Slinging her purse, the woman opens the door, "Tell my son when he comes back hello for me?"

"Well, that's..." Charlie processes that for a moment, blinking. "To be honest, that's a lot more poetic than what my drunk ass was probably thinking." Lords know what she was probably intending and thank Kobol she didn't get it. Even if she won't live this down in its own way. There's a nod after a moment with the request. "Of course."

A warm smile, and Erica makes her way out the door of the loft back to whatever errands she was planning on running; or more likely, finished with the only errand she had that day. Meeting this mystery woman.


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