2237-07-29 - Smoke And Musings

Micah and Aubrey meet over cigars on the beach.

Date: 2237-07-29

Location: Beach

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 351

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Aubrey left the party a bit early last night, after whatever she and Addison discussed went downhill quickly. With the move to the new ship on the horizon, she's trying to soak up at least a tiny bit of beach time on the sandy expanse in front of the hotel resort. The Picon girl has been in the water, though she didn't really get a chance to rent a surf board this time around. She walks up out of the water, in a pale purple bikini with a cheery tropical orange flowers on it, and heads for the lounge chair where her towel and sunglasses are parked beside a beach tote.

Micah was likely one of few Timber Wolves not nursing an outrageous hangover this afternoon. The tight lodgings in the bunk houses seems to have spurned the nomadic side of the tall pilot. One of the few places he'd found to wander happened to be the beach at Argentum Bay. Dressed in white board shorts with black and teal trimmings and a light grey v-neck, his long legs make easy work of the sand squeezing between his toes. His hand, not the one holding discarded flip flops but the other, rises to adjust first his aviator styled sunglasses, and then the strand of hair that thought it was it's mission to obstruct his vision. Sight of Aubrey emerging from the water gives him a bit of pause, though, and a tip of those sunglasses. "Aubrey Naxos? Seriously? Is this unit collecting models?" His voice carries a bit, holding true to that Caprican accent.

Aubrey pauses at hearing her name, and she turns to give Micah a looking over. "So it is Micah Knoor. I thought it might be you dancing with Abs last night, but I had a few drinks so I couldn't be sure." She plucks up her towel, "She must be over the moon. She used to have your posters all over her walls," she quips with a small smile. She spreads her towel out on the lounge chair and sits down. "I remember my dad working with you on something or other. What brings you to the Timberwolves? Besides the plethora of models and actresses and singers we seem to have accumulated." She rubs unconsciously at the broad, jagged scar marring her right thigh. Doesn't look like she'll be doing much swimsuit modeling in the future.

"Vipers. I was in the 131st Caprican and my number came up. They gave me the choice and I wanted into the first Colonial unit they could find." Micah motions back toward the spaceport. "It seems the Wolves was place to be." The former rock star smiles dryly at reference to Abby and her posters. "Walker's an incredible girl. I think I nearly had to call a medical team when I saw her for the first time." The memory transforms that smile into something a little more genuine, his chin motioning to the chair beside her. "Mind a little company?"

"Not at all. Make yourself comfortable," Aubrey insists, as she plucks up her sunglasses and puts them on. "I don't think I've been this pale since I was born. Two months on a ship with no sunshine is hell on a surfer girl." She settles back on her chair and looks at him. "Abby and Addy are like siblings to me. We grew up together in Biscayne Bay. Our parents were close, and we were one big family more or less. I was the little kid following them around all the time. They were two years older," she explains.

"Ah." Micah breathes, stepping over the chair before sitting. He leans forward instead of back, stretching. "I saw you dancing with Addison before I left. It looked like you were... Is 'not getting along' the politically correct term?" When he does lean back, Micah smooths his hair from his face, shifting slightly to get comfortable. "And yeah, sorry, I think your Dad was supposed to be organizing a commercial shoot or something for me. It was an effort from my agent to make me work on my holiday in Picon. I'm sure you know how that goes."

"Yep. I can sympathize with that," Aubrey says with a smirk. The mention of Addison has her scowling though. "Flyboy seems to think I'm still a 17 year old girl, and felt the need to lecture me for being in a bad mood. The things that happened on Picon were rough for me. My dad got hurt during the attack on the Bay." She begins braiding her hair into two tails absently.

"Lecturing you?" Micah repeats, his eyes closing against the warmth and comfort of the sun. He shifts his head slightly, after a moment of that, looking somewhat in the direction of Aubrey as he speaks to her. "Big brother lecturing or actual lecturing? I give my kid sister hell all the time. Doesn't mean I don't want the best for her." He pauses, eyes searching that scar for the first time. "I'm sorry to hear about your Dad, though. From what I remember, he was a great guy. Very patient with a young man who absolutely did not want to work at the time." A hand raises his sunglasses a bit to take an unshaded look. "Attack on Picon?" He asks and drops those shades back into place.

There is a second scar, albeit a smaller one, on her stomach. They look fairly recent, though fully healed. Aubrey snorts. "Bit of both in the lecture department. And yeah, we were defending Picon for the last two months. It was hit really hard ever since the war started, but the Bay had been safe until last week," she explains in a quiet tone.

"They sent bombers to the factory district, but ground troops to the Bay. Dad's condo was hit by rockets. It's totaled. He's going to be ok, just needs to take it easy for a while, but he's staying with friends until insurance gets sorted out and he can find a new place." She finishes with the braids and grimaces over at Micah. "I hadn't seen how bad it had been on Picon. I signed up shortly after Hyperion. My mother was there, at the fair with her students." No need to point out her mother died there. Pretty much everyone died there.

Micah nods grimly. "I never thought the war would make it to the Bay. But I read the reports of what happened out there. As well as what happened in Hyperion." He chews his lip. It's a habit from way back, born out of thought. "I used to go to the bay as a retreat. There was a little villa out on the south shore that the owner rented out by the month. That place was perfect. It's hard to think it could ever be any other way." When she mentions her Dad, he nods again, seeming to relax a bit and lay his head back down. "Things can be replaced though, right? But... I wouldn't hold my breath for the insurance companies. I'm willing to bet they're up to their ears in claims." It makes you wonder if they'd even have enough money to pay them all out?

"That's what I'm worried about. If I'd had a little more time there, I could have tried to salvage what I could from the condo for him. I hope they don't let him poke around in a crumbling building. He's not as young as he used to be, and he has been a little off since he lost mom." Aubrey frowns. "But in that I guess Addison was right. I do more good here, with the Wolves, as a Viper pilot." She smiles faintly at Micah. "Doesn't make me feel less guilty for being away from home though."

Bree slides her glasses down her nose to peer at him over the rims. "So what happened to your music career? I remember a couple of your songs I think. I was pretty young back then."

Micah says, "I know a little bit about war." The Captain replies. "But my understanding is a pretty simple philosophical fact. You can't win without guns." The sun is being stubborn. It permeates Micah's sunglasses just enough for his eyes to be visible behind the lenses. They seem to be downcast, looking at his feet while his mind turns over possibilities. "Salvage personnel can be hired." He looks over to her again, pulling his own sunglasses down his nose and offering her one of those million dollar smiles. "Wolves can't.""

Micah says, "I know a little bit about war." The Captain replies. "But my understanding is a pretty simple philosophical fact. You can't win without guns." The sun is being stubborn. It permeates Micah's sunglasses just enough for his eyes to be visible behind the lenses. They seem to be downcast, looking at his feet while his mind turns over possibilities. "Salvage personnel can be hired." He looks over to her again, pulling his own sunglasses down his nose and offering her one of those million dollar smiles. "Wolves can't."
"I think 'implosion' was listed as the official cause of death for my music career. I let myself get sucked into a world I wasn't meant to live in." He smirks, his shoulders rising and falling in as much of a shrug as the chair allows. "It's weird. I simultaneously miss it and am glad it's over. Playing, though? Gods do I miss playing."

"Yeah. I guess so. But you can't hire family," Aubrey points out. "But it doesn't matter. I'm a Wolf. I don't get to just traipse on home when I feel like it. Ironically, it turns out I'm way better at shooting Raiders out of the sky than I was at modeling or acting. Life is strange."

She arches a brow at his explanation for the end of his career. "Yeah, I get that. I was lucky, I got into the business via my dad, and he made damned sure no one took advantage of me, and that I didn't get into anything over my head. Not that I was always a good little girl but, I never got in too deep either."

Aubrey purses her lips. "You can still play. There's a few Wolves with musical talents. Geoff can sing. I think Nova does too. One of the new guys too, Paquette." She ponders. "I think Pi plays drums even. Tucker played piano but, well, we lost him over Picon."

"Sorry to hear that. I have a soft spot for other folks who know their way around the ivory." Micah's jaw sets into a grim line. "I don't get behind the mic much anymore, actually. It's hard to do when you're used to the life, the party, and the trouble. One feels like it has to come with all of the others." He smirks a bit to himself, his dark grey eyes passing back over to her over the rim of those sunglasses. "And some of the trouble is not exactly fitting for a navy Captain."
"Having your Dad to guide you in the business must have been a hell of a good time. Well. Except that you literally have a parent chaperoning you at all of the industry parties." He blinks. "And screening all of your jobs. Wait. How did you both make it out of that alive?!"

Aubrey chuckles. "Dad only chaperoned til I was nineteen. Then he watched me punch some creepy guy in the nose when he touched my ass, and decided he'd taught me all he could. I was tougher than I look. Plus, Dad knew that I was a surfer, and none of the other surfers would stand idly by if something bad happened to me. It's a sort of family of its own."

She handwaves the behavior talk. "The Wolves are a bit more lax than most units. Especially when it comes to fraternizing. I bought earplugs this leave, just in case my new rack is next to one of the 'couples'."

Micah actually laughs at that. "The joys of a military at war, hm? Sex, though, is not the only demon who rides the train of rock and roll. It's better for everyone, I think, if Micah Knoor the artist and Micah Knoor the Captain meet only as ships passing in the night." Still chuckling, he shakes his head. His blond hair immediately releases a strand that comes to rest directly across the pilot's nose. "Noise canceling headphones. Trust me. I was bunked in the same tent as two couples during my last few months on Caprica. It's incredible how lax certain regulations get while you're waiting for CAS missions on the front."

"Who was the creepy guy? There used to be this photographer on Picon... Lords, what was his name? Something Skarin. Lark? Or Jay? Guy had more women on his lap than Santa Claus. Everyone in the industry thought he was an absolute creep." Micah, thankfully, was never asked to partake in THAT particular game. "I thought about relieving him of a few teeth myself once or twice."

"That would be him. I bloodied his nose good. That's when I stopped getting as many modeling jobs, and moved on to the music videos," Aubrey smirks. "So I went from the bikini girl to such impressive roles as," she airquotes each one in turn, "the 'hot bikini girl', 'the alcoholic girlfriend who burns down the singer's house' and 'the crazy chick who gets into a guns shootout with the singer."

"Don't joke about alcoholic girlfriends who try to burn down the singer's house. The struggle is real." Micah grins. "I've seen a couple of your videos, actually. If you'd been a couple years older, you and I probably would've crossed paths a hell of a lot sooner. I imagine my producer would've had you pretend to beat me to death with a stick or something stupid like that. That reeks of his style." He shifts on that lounge chair, turning a bit more in an effort to get a better look at the young woman. The violent streak seems to have him impressed. "Skarin deserved it and more. I wonder if he's still around? Gods, he'd probably be fairly old by now too. That'd make it so much worse."

"Gods I hope he isn't still around. Not that I'll be going back to modeling anytime soon," Aubrey states, rubbing the mark on her stomach. "Or ever. Too expensive to edit out all the scars when bikini models are a dime a dozen." She gives him a small smile. "Probably. I was the 'it' girl for that stuff on Picon for a little while. At first I didn't get what everyone got all hot about seeing a woman being violent. Then I got into a Viper and it all made sense." She laughs lightly.

"I have to admit. There's something about strong women... who don't... try to burn your house down." Micah offers, pulling his sunglasses up onto his head. They, thankfully, contain his rebellious hair. He leans forward in that chair again, his hand gingerly rubbing the music themed tattoos that go up right right arm. They hadn't seen sun in a while. "Really though. I think some men just want a challenge. Violent women, or those who can pretend, provide that. And you think THAT will keep you out of modeling?" The singer chuckles, shaking his head side to side. "We're about to enter a generation where vast percentage of the adults actively fought in a war. You earned those scars. Put a little swagger with them? You'll have people falling all over you for jobs. Everything about you still screams the look. Own it."

"I think men think that's what they want. But when they encounter an actual strong woman, one who isn't afraid to bluntly state what she wants, they turn tail and run," Aubrey quips. She smirks at his assessment of her modeling future. "Believe me, my swagger is broken these days. I'd rather be behind the camera than in front of it anyway. Thankfully my camera made it off the Vanguard in one piece."

Micah considers that for a moment. "In some cases, I agree whole heartedly. But I know quite a few men who would throw themselves off a bridge rather than be coupled with someone meek." Those talented hands, so used to the ivory of keys, draws a cigar tube from the pocket of his shorts. He almost absently removes the cap, freeing two short, slim, Caprican cigars. "Challenge is what makes life worth living." He grins, offering one of the fragrant cylinders and a worn silver lighter over to Aubrey. Her words about swagger draw a careful nod, though one eyebrow remains arched. "It sounds like you need a way to fix it. And I swear to the gods, if you take pictures of me, Naxos..."

Aubrey looks over and smiles faintly at the cigar, as she accepts the one offered, and waves off the lighter. "Shouldn't use a lighter. Always use a match. Preserves the flavor." She pulls a small book of them bearing the hotel's logo from her bag and lights one, waiting for the head to burn down on it before she lights her cigar with it. She takes a puff, then offers the matchbook over. "Yeah, I need a way to fix it. Not sure how though. And I'll definitely take pictures of you. I take pictures of everyone, usually when they aren't paying attention. Except Lindus. I got a posed shot of Logan Lindus from the Aerilon Threshers the day he came on board. Guy is gigantic."

"At the rate I use them, we'd have to start match rationing." Micah chuckles. He takes the offered book and follows Bree's example. He holds the smoke in a long time before exhaling, causing those broad shoulders to slacken. "Lindus? Seriously? I'm starting to think that Colonial command is up to something with these crew assignments." He tosses the matchbook back over to her, causing it to land somewhere on her stomach. "Pictures, though. I'll give you a free pass on three. After that? There may be a reward issued for the recovery of intelligence. A handsome reward." He puffs.

"You have to see me take it to know I did, Knoor," Aubrey points out with a superior look on her face. "And yeah, about the assignments. Want your mind blown? Lindus is a marine. A recon marine. Guy that size is apparently quiet as a mouse in the field. Who'd have thought?" She sticks the cigar in her mouth and folds her arms over her stomach, crossing her feet at the ankles.

"You're frakking kidding." Apparently, Micah didn't leave his mouth in the old days. "Recon? Is that because 'Heavy Utility Vehicle' wasn't a valid job title in the corps? That guy could put his shoulder through a brick wall." He smirks and shakes his head. The cigar finds it's way back into his teeth when his right arm raises and tucks itself behind his head. "See you....You know I'm going to be looking now, right?" A promise and a question. The cherry on his cigar glows bright red, followed by another trail of smoke. It'd been a long time since he'd simply sat back and enjoyed the beach.

"You'll forget, they always do," Aubrey teases around the cigar in her mouth. She plucks it from her mouth and gestures with it. "Though I guess Lindus as recon is no weirder than a couple bikini models doing demolitions and piloting Vipers, eh?"

Micah is silent a moment, considering. "Engineer fits Abby. She's has that personality. If she hits a problem that doesn't move, she goes through the center of it." His dark eyes fall back on her when the former rocker turns his head every so slightly. "And I think pilot might fit you. You strike me as a person who can adjust course to track a target." In life as well as in an aircraft. "But Lindus is no mouse. Physiologically. Like, not a thing. I detect witchcraft." His head shakes again, that smile emerging once more at the corners of his lips. Another puff of smoke surrounds his head for a moment before it dissipates. "A swaggerless Viper pilot. I feel like we need to do something about that."

"Oh I have swagger aplenty in the cockpit. Just back on terra firma I seem to have lost my mojo. I got shot down by guys twice at the last awards party. That's more than I've been shot down in my bird." Aubrey chuckles at that. "It's always been kind of that way. Abby has that something that draws people to her. So does Addison. I think I've lost that, if I ever had it to begin with." She seems to be at peace with it at least. "But like Flyboy lectured me last night, there are much more important things at stake than getting laid."

"Amen to that." Micah removes his cigar from his lips. He touches the butt against his forehead in a mock salute. "Swagger aplenty? The next time we go out, look for me. I'll take your six." The pilot pushes himself up, flexing his abdomen and reaching his arms behind his head. Strettttccccchhh. "Addison seems like an absolute force of nature. And Abby?" He actually has to think about the marine for a moment, replacing the cigar in his lips and chewing. "There's no denying that she's... definitely something." A pause. "Frak the people who shoot you down. Life's too short. This whole war's an enormous lesson in that, isn't it?"

"Oh, I don't think my wingman would be ok with that, but if he's on another assignment, sure. Jigger is my wingman and he's the best there is in that regard. Always has my back, in the air and on the ground. And yeah, the twins are forces of nature. I had a crush on Addison forever when I was a kid. They exude some crazy kind of charisma." She sits up to let the back of the lounge chair down, then lies on her stomach, to cook evenly on both sides, propped up on her elbows to continue smoking. "And life is definitely too short. We took some hard losses this campaign."

Micah says, "Jigger? Don't know that I've had the pleasure thus far." Mic finds his way to his feet, letting out a small sigh and removing his cigar. "If he'll let me, even once, I'd jump at the opportunity to watch you fly. I have a feeling that your kind of moxy is hell behind the stick." She earns another of those smiles, even as the sunglasses are lowered back into their proper position. "Unfortunately, now I have to go get stand before a paintball firing squad. Something about being executed for my crimes. It was really great to finally meet you, Aubrey Naxos.""

"You too Micah Knoor, and just a tip. If you hurt Abby, I'll shoot your balls off." Sparkle smile. Waggle of the cigar. Bad Aubrey.


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