After the marine qualifications, some of the Timber Wolves go for beer and socialize.
Location: Oceanside Bar
Related Scenes: None
Scene Number: 355
It's a beautiful, sunny afternoon, and surprisingly, the Oceanside Bar is actually oceanside. Most of the tables are outside, open to the pleasant breeze, with a shade overhead blocking out the worst of the bright afternoon sun. Gage doesn't need much time to change or indeed, pretty himself up -- and so he's one of the first to arrive. He's managed to stake out a large table -- claimed by dint of his pair of sunglasses -- and is just in the process of carrying a pitcher of beer and some glasses back towards it.
Logan is similalry a quick shower and switch to civvies as he drops into a seat and he grins as he takes some of the glasses from Gage setting them out for the other man to pour. He looks around slowly and whistles after a survey, "Not a bad spot... not a bad spot at all."
It takes longer for Charlie to reappear. She's been staying off-base, so further to go. When she does, it's in sandals, a pair of those cut-off jean shorts, and a bikini top. She's wearing one of Evan's hats and has a pair of sunglasses on, too. Definitely in 'bar' mode, that's for sure. The tattoo on her upper back is healing well, but still red enough around the edges that it's still obviously new. And, well, still obviously very Scorpian and not something a Picon would generally get. Locating Gage and Logan is easy; they're big dudes. She makes her way over, grabbing a chair to drop into. "It'll be a damn shame to leave. I could do with another week of this."
Looking comfortable in khaki-colored shorts and a plain blue t-shirt, Gage gives a nod of thanks towards Logan when he helps him with the glasses. "Could get used to this," he agrees with the recon marine, grinning as he starts to pour the beer. "Don't ever get deployed anywhere like this, though," he adds with a grimace. He pushes a glass towards Logan, first, and then Charlie, as she arrives. "I'll toast to that," he says, lowering the pitcher and lifting his glass. "Any sign of the others?" Hard to tell whether he means the other marines, or the other pilots, glancing past Charlie as he lifts his glass.
Logan glances over at Charlie and grins at her, "Show off." He accuses brightly but then he catches tattooing and he leans over to check it out curioussly. He shrugs, "People can actually enjoy it now we know we're shipping out. People we're getting pretty riled up when we first got here." He lifts his beer for a cheers and glances around, "I'm pretty sure they'll be able to find us. Besides. You know...sometimes They can take longer to get ready." He pauses a beat without looking at Charlie, "You know... Pilots."
"Show off?" Charlie takes mock offense as she accepts a beer with a grin to Gage in appreciation. "For what?" She settles back in a chair, crossing one leg over the other. "As for the others, no clue. Not staying on base. I did leave word for Evan to join us once she can." She takes a healthy sip of the beer, snorting in amusement at the mention of pilots being slow to get ready. As for the tattoo? It's those dark, edged lines that... well, only make sense to a Scorpian. It'd mean something specific to one of them, likely.
Irene loses the all the dirt and her duty greens somewhere between here and the base, looking squeaky clean and casual when she blinks into view from the glare and heat rippling up off the street. Her outfit isn't much different from Charlie's in style and intent, being short olive drab shorts with barely useful pockets, wedge sandals and a clingy, horrifyingly neon cyan sleeveless scoop neck shirt. It's a tourist special, with a simple tri-color image of the setting sun over the waves lapping onto a sand beach. Above the circular framing is 'Life's a Beach' and below 'Argentum Bay, Scorpia'. The white ties of a bikini top are knotted together neatly at the back of her neck, and shading her face is an overly large pair of sunglasses with rainbow-on-chrome lenses and pink frames. She's going for full tacky.
Gage downs a good half of his glass, exhaling. It's only when Logan leans over to look at Charlie's tattoo that the combat engineer notices it, and leans to look, too. "Nice ink. Get it done locally?" he asks. "I was thinking of getting some more ink, but couldn't find a Tauran tattooist I was happy with." Read: he's picky about his tattoos, or about who does them, anyway. He grins a little at Logan's words about how long a pilot takes to get ready. "Important to look good in their flight suits, you know..." he begins, before he catches sight of Irene. Hard to miss her arrival, really, in that shirt. He winces, reaches for his sunglasses on the table, and puts them on, before he pours another beer for the arriving pilot. Priorities, man.
Logan studies the tattoo for a few moments before shrugging and moving on he glances to Irene and blinks slowly, "Huh. How... do you possibly have that." HE asks indicating her frames. His amusement is evident as he gives an appreciative look to the outfit and then glances to Gage grinning brightly as he takes a long sip of his own beer. "I think that's why they give them flight suits. Otherwise they'd probably be trying to wear some weird outfits." He says grinning stretching out against his chair (which creaks at the action).
"Uh, yeah." Charlie takes a longer drink of beer, as if it might hide the fact that she's blushing a bit. "Long story." Ahem. As for a Tauran tattooist, she shakes her head. "You wouldn't find one here, but I hear there's at least one in the Wolves. One of the pilots, I think? Tauran, does tattoos. You should ask around. I bet she'd be willing to help you out, there." The reminder of her own ink makes it itch and she reaches her hand back to place fingers cooled by the glass over the inflamed skin. There's a look to Irene, then quickly away. Bright.
Irene finds a chair more by touch than vision as her eyes need a second or two to adjust, especially once she pushes the ridiculous sunglasses up and back atop her head. "They're the best, right?" She grins, like she very geniunely believes them to be. She probably thinks her eye searing shirt is also, the best. Gage's theory that she's color blind might be on the money. "Ooh, tattoos!" She enthuses, having at least caught part of the conversation on the way in. Her tote is hung off her chair before she sits and looks around, checking everyone for ink.
Tapping at his nose, Gage grins in agreement with Logan's guess about pilots. "I can only imagine," he says, with a turn of his head that probably involves him eyeing Irene's outfit behind the safety of his dark sunglasses. His brows go up at Charlie's reaction, as if surprised. "Aint going anywhere," he says, when she indicates it's a long story. "Huh. Hadn't heard that. I'll poke around for her," he says, with a grateful nod to Charlie for the information, "Looking to add some more after Picon," he adds, taking another pull of his beer. Like Scorpians, Tauran tattoos are as much a story as decorative art.
Logan laughs, "The best... of what?" He asks of Irene dubiously but clearly amused by it and then he takes another sip and he shrugs. His t-shirt and shorts don't reveal any obvious tattoos. He's apparently wholesome like that. He grins at Gage, "Just remember to have her do it on a place you can see. Trust but verify." He says brightly. He extends a hand to Irene, "Logan Lindus, by the way. Recon. Callsign Titan."
"Went out drinking with Calhoun earlier in the week," Charlie tells Gage, leaning back in her chair. She takes a long drink of beer. "We went out, decided to get tattoos." As you do. "Apparently the artist thought..." Here she looks a bit strained, glancing sidelong at Irene and Logan briefly before looking back to he engineer. "...I was a part of his clan." There's a bit of a sheepish expression. It probably doesn't take too big of a leap of the imagination to guess how someone might have thought Charlie was a part of the same clan as Evan. "Didn't even realize it was there until the next day. Honestly thought maybe someone had cut me in the fight we were in."
"Lieutenant j-g Irene Harris. Raptor pilot. Callsign Iris." Irene replies in kind, reaching across to put her much smaller hand into Logan's temporary care. She beaming, obviously, stupidly beaming. "You are Logan Lindus! Godsdamn! I'm a huge Threshers fan. My mum's from Aerilon." It's not a complete tumble of words, those, but close. She's not telling tales about being a Threshers fan, the excitement is real. How she doesn't fly off to the ceiling and bounce off the walls like a deflating balloon is hard to say. Physics, probably, but if it weren't for those she'd be a bouncy blonde rocket.
Gage snorts briefly, but replies to Logan: "That's exactly why I only trust a Tauran to do it." Because if you can't trust your own people, who can you trust? The twitch of his brows is visible above his sunglasses as he listens to Charlie's story. "Huh. Well, no surprise. You two are pretty glued to each other," he gives a shift of shoulder that's a half shrug, as he leans forward to refill the sniper's glass, then everyone else's, before his own. Irene's gushing earns a brief grin from the engineer as he settles back with his refilled glass.
Logan points out, "I mean... he was wearing your underwear. Makes sense they got confused." He says brightly and then shakes Irene's hand carefully. "I am!" He grins, "Yeah? Good for you. It's easy to be a fan of Winners." He says brightly clearly enjoying the attention but not taking it too seriously. "Be interesting to see what happens this season a bunch of us enlisted. There were a few of us seeing if we shouldn't get some more regular Pyramid games going. I think there was some discussion that I might have to ref or coach though." He says sounding a little disappointed with that.
"Zeus' tits, Titan-" Charlie rolls her eyes at Logan. "That'll be for one showing. And it hasn't even happened yet. Do you even know how bets work?" The woman rolls her eyes over her beer, taking a long drink. To Gage she gives a bit of a sheepish shrug. "Yeah, we... we've kinda worked that out now, I guess." No more vehement protests on that front. She takes another sip before nodding towards Iris. "Charlie Wagner. Spectre. Also recon. Not as loud as this guy-" she cants her head towards the ex-Pyramid player.
"Pssh." Irene responds, clearly not happy to be misidentified as a bandwagon rider, but not overly offended. She'll let that pass with only a clarification, rather than a balled up fist applied vigorously to Logan's throat, "I've been a fan since I was like, knee high and making mud pies in the backyard." When she gets her hand back she settles down into her seat properly and reaches for the nearest glass that looks unclaimed. She's not too picky. As for the regular pyramid games, she nods like she's in favor, "I'd play. I've got the moves." Maybe? She did do alright on the course earlier so maybe she's not even exaggerating much. But, not to be too rudely hyperfocused and fangirl-y, she slowly looks aside at Charlie and across at Gage, then back to Charlie who she extends a hand to. What she's picked up from the talk is obviously confusing, but she's going to just roll with it, "Hi, yeah I guess we were never formally introduced. I hope the trousers fit! I'm sorry I didn't have much of a selection. Just like a million toothbrushes."
"He was?" Gage straightens, looking disappointed as his gaze flickers from Logan to Charlie at the former's words. "Thought you were going to parade that shit through the ship?" His disappointment fades when Charlie confirms he hasn't missed it. "Think everyone else came to that conclusion before you did, Wagner," he says, with a twitching of lips and a tip of glass towards her in a silent salute before he gulps down a few mouthfuls of beer. The engineer doesn't jump into the talk of pyramid, but he's half-listening, all the same. He glances Irene's way, asking, "So, Harris, any idea what happened to your fellow pilots? They get waylaid, or can't hold their drink?" He rubs at his chin. "Couldn't remember what the quiet one's name was. Seen him around the Vanguard a bit before, though."
Logan grins at Charlie, "I know how bets work. Do you know how rumors work?" He asks with a grinning counter-point, "It's not easy to start rumors and you have to keep at them consistently." He informs her as he gestures to Gage, "See this is why you have to encourage rumors." He smiles to Irene then considering, "Oh?" He asks and grins, "Even better. Threshers will need you more than ever when the season starts up again. The supporters is what makes it all go. And I look forward to seeing your moves. "He says with clear amusement again. He's probably only teasing her a little. "We should play some time though we got a little court going on the hangar. There seems to be enough people interested in it. It'd be good to start getting a feel for the range of skills of the people interested in playing." He glances to Charlie, "You're playing right? We'll just people to wear cups."
"It worked well enough. We weren't there too long, thankfully," the sniper answers Irene. For Gage, she just rolls her eyes a bit. And then there's Logan. Scoff. "I think I'd rather my boyfriend not be known as wearing my underwear on a regular basis." And then Charlie pauses and makes a bit of a face. Chances are, it's the first time she's wholly acknowledged Evan as such out loud. She just looks over towards Gage and then shakes her head slightly before lifting her beer to down a good bit of it. She'll just reach for the pitcher to refill the glass. They'll need more soon. "I'll play. And I won't even go for the groin unless you ask me nicely, Lindus."
"I'll give it 110 percent because there's no 'I' in team." Irene promises Logan, in solemn, but gently mocking pyramid playerese. As for where the rest of the pilots went, she's just as curious as Gage. So curious, that she twists around in her chair to look out onto the street for any sign of them. There is none. "Faye was at the hotel with me... Razor? He is quiet, but a nice guy. I feel terrible for him." But she doesn't specify why, or imply by tone that there's something fundamentally wrong with him that deserves her pity. "It looks like I've been abandoned."
With roll of his eyes, Gage responds to Logan with a bland, "Frak rumors. I just don't want to miss seeing Calhoun pay up," with a sudden grin that might become a smirk at the look he gets from Charlie. After another gulp of beer, "Heard the new tin can might be big enough to have a proper court. Haven't gone to look yet, myself." He nods as Irene mentions the pilot's callsign, like he's trying to remember that for later. Her words evoke a curious lift of brows, visible above his sunglasses, though instead of asking, he says, "Guess you'll just have to become a honorary marine. You did pass basic, after all -- did better that most nuggets," with a tip of glass in her direction in a mini toast, before he takes a gulp of beer.
Logan shrugs to Charlie, "Should have thought of that before you made the bet. Now the rumros out and getting wider." HE says smugly and then he nods to Charlie, "That a girl! They won't know what hit them." HE says as Charlie agrees to playing. He glances to Irene then and smirks, "Something like that though eighty percent can be great as long as it's good." He says with a grin. "It's alright you upgraded your company. And there you go. Honorary. That means another beer." He says and he drains his and hops up, "I'll get another round. And yeah that'd be awesome if we can get a full court."
"Pilots have to pass basic for Academy. I'd hope they can make it through a course! Now if they'd have to do the second part with us-" Charlie waggles her eyebrows at Irene, but it's really good-natured in the end. They may have bitched, but it's a marine's Kobol-given-right to bitch. At any and everything all the gods-damned-time. She sips at this beer, looking out to the beach. "We should go surfing tomorrow," the woman decides, loudly. "Won't be as good as Picon's beaches, but damn if I haven't had a chance yet."
Irene twists herself back around the right way, but leaves her one arm draped over the back of her chair and stretches her legs out beneath the table. Comfortably, if precariously sprawled with ankles crossed and her feet hopefully out of everyone else's way, she smiles lazily, "Thanks! If I could shoot even half as well as Wagner, enjoyed forced marches with full kit and forgot how fun flying was for some reason, I'd consider a transfer. And yeah, the second half would probably kill me dead. My brother said it nearly did him in and he's like a solid slab of muscles with ears and a haircut. I've never even seen him cry in my entire life, and I made him eat a few mud pies when we were little." But surfing, that has her suck a breath in audibly, "Oh, I would love to go surfing. Are you really good? I'm kinda terrible, but it's fun."
Gage tips his glass towards Logan in approval when he indicates he's getting the next round, and in preparation for that, drains his glass, sets it down empty, and leans back, relaxing as his gaze wanders to passersby. He makes a face as Charlie mentions surfing. "That means getting up early. Pass," he says, with a surety. "I plan to enjoy beer, and sleep, in some combination, for the rest of our leave." With a flickered grin, he adds to Logan's words, "Just don't go 'round telling all the other pilots you're an honorary shitkicker, or they'll all want in," he warns Irene.
Logan returns carrying booze and he chuckles, "Surfing huh? How far is the nearest beach?" He asks curiously and he shrugs, "I'm game." He admits agreeably, "I don't mind surfing a bit but man some people go out the whole day. I enjoy chiling on the beach." He admits and then pauses, "Oh yeah definitely don't tell the other pilots got to be our secret eh?"
"Uhm." When Irene asks if she's any good, Charlie looks a little awkward for a moment. But then she can't not say and then go out there and... y'know. "I... was sort of professional before I joined the marines." She lifts her beer to drain the rest of it, shrugging towards Gage in a 'your loss' sort of way. However, by the time Logan returns, she looks from him, to the ocean they're sitting by, then back. "You mean the beach, or a good surfing beach, because how the frak did you play pyramid while that blind, Lindus?"
Irene zips her lips and throws the key off into the street, "Not a word then." She promises. With the key being kicked around and surely lost out there underfoot of all the tourists, she fills her now empty hand with her glass. "What? That's cool. No wonder you look like you could outswim a fish. I would be eternally, eternally grateful for a few pointers." That said, she grins at the exchange between Logan and Charlie, keeping well out of it and eventually hiding her amusement behind her drink.
"Didn't know that," Gage says, when Charlie admits she was a professional surfer. "Huh. Was that you they were watching footage of in the Vanguard a few weeks back? Heard about it." In the vague sort of way rumor spreads on a small ship like the Vanguard. He chuckles briefly at Charlie's words to Logan, pushes his empty glass forward for a refill. "I mean, he's recon, Wagner. Probably can spot a sniper a mile away, but can't see a relationship when it's staring him right in the face for months." He's definitely talking about her though.
Logan bahs and waves a hand at Charlie, "A surfing beach." He says grumbling, "You all know what I meant. Besides I don't need to look around that's what we have you for. You just tell me where to go and I get to deal with whatever problem you can't handle." He says smugly and then raises a brow at Gage's commentary.
"I can give some pointers, sure. So could Walker. Her family owned a surf shop." When Gage brings up the videos, Charlie sort of cringes. "Yeeeeeah... Folks wanted to see and Abby revealed she had a whole bunch. She was, uh, sort of a fan." More beer, for the love of Kobol! At Gage's jab, she grouches and kicks out at his chair, mumbling something about "We had our reasons." enough that she doesn't even respond to Logan.
Life's a beach. Irene's t-shirt says so. Listening to the banter she doesn't interject much, aside from an appreciative, if soft, "That would be amazing." The pointers would be. In the short interlude she tosses back some of her beer, eyes eventually settling on Gage. Uh oh. "So what's your secret shame and or talent, Tomak? You were... a classical singer in your previous life? If it's tragedy all the way down, I apologize. I'm just curious."
Despite the fact that the sniper successfully kicks Gage's chair, jerking him a little, he looks pleased. "Uh-huh," he grins, good-naturedly. He reaches for the pitcher, and maybe in mute apology, he refills Charlie's glass first, before anyone else that's empty, or even half-empty. "Might come watch, if you're still at it by the time I'm up." Because sitting on a beach, watching others expend energy doesn't break the rules of his shore leave, apparently. "Aint anything special," he replies, blandly dismissive, to Irene. "Not all of us can be professional athletes, whatever. Some of us were born grunts."
Logan shrugs his shoulders and lifts his beer up to cheers Gage, "We're all grunts now. Whatever our backstory. What we do next is probably the more critical thing." He smiles though and glances towards Charlie, "Banshee revealing a whole bunch of videos is a terrifying and exciting prospect. I need to consider that." He says in amusement. He pauses and then offers, "We should tell everyone he was a professional singer. What type?"
The beer is an acceptable apology and Charlie gives Gage a nod with it, taking a sip. "If you do, you should bring beer and... hot dogs or something. We can turn it into... I dunno. Lunch, if not a full party. Dinner on the beach? What do y'all think?" She leans back, glancing towards Logan- who she nods to in agreement. "I still enjoy surfing, but it's not who I am anymore. This is. I love my work."
"That's true." Irene readily agrees with the big recon marine and Charlie too, her smile fading and her expression becoming as grave as her firm expression, "We've got to put aside our differences and play as a team now, completely focused on our one goal, winning this war." She has a sip of her beer after accepting a refill from the Tauron boomgineer, adding a quiet and rapidly spoke addendum to her inspiring speech, "...and totally not spreading rumors about Tomak being in a Caprican boy band."
"You got a real hard-on for rumors, Lindus," Gage observes, dryly, though doesn't seem that worried about whatever rumor the group might cook up, at least until Irene's suggestion, jaw visibly tensing. "Frak, no," he says with enough vehemence that it might feel personal. Maybe it is -- Tauron hasn't exactly the fondest of relationships with Caprica. Focusing on consuming his beer for a moment, he finally gives a nod to Charlie at her suggestion. "Sounds like a plan."
Logan nods to GAge, "Yeah. I'm what one would call a shit starter." He admits ruefully and he shrugs, "Hey you never know how something may impact the war effort. Sometimes you need a little PR. And this boy band thing could really be the boost that recruitment drives need. Sometimes you just have to stand up and do what you can to help." He tells Gage with mock seriousness. He nods to Charlie, "Lunch sounds good. Serious surfers can get there earlier. Rest of us can show up late get food ready and maybe surf a bit and then barbecue something up."
Draining the rest of her beer, Charlie rolls to her feet. "I think I'm gonna go scout out the spot now, actually. Make sure it's still good and not overrun by dicks." She grins at the others. "Y'all have a good night. We'll make sure we party hard enough the ship's first day out is staffed entirely by hangovers." A wink over her sunglasses, the sniper ambles off.
Oops, that was a nerve hit. Irene isn't blind, or deaf for that matter. She lets Logan apply salt since he's a gajillion times bigger than she is and doesn't try to needle any further on that line herself. Caprican boy band is not a go. She doesn't exactly pout, since that's not her style, but she frowns thoughtfully at the reaction and goes immediately quiet on the subject, picking up instead on the surfing plans. She approves. "Surfing and a nice meal on the beach sure beats getting all maudlin in a dark bar somewhere on the last day. A cookout would be amazing. Don't they do something here with the big leaves they wrap around the stuff and then they bury it all in the sand and cook it with hot stones? Or is that on Canceron?" Well, whatever. She lifts her glass to the departing sniper-surfer, "See you!"
"Bullshit is what I would call it," but Gage's tone is relatively even, eased off perhaps by the deep draught he pulls from his glass before he says it. "I'll leave the PR to the pretty faces," with a jerk of thumb towards Irene. When Charlie makes to rise, he drains his glass, too. "Think I might walk back with you, Wagner." Nevermind he'll break off halfway to wherever Charlie's going. It's an excuse, and he's taking it, with a nod for those remaining.