2237-07-31 - Sing A Song Of Nothing Good

Too drunk to hold her tongue, Astraea lets slip some things better left unsaid. Emrys... does much the same.

Date: 2237-07-31

Location: RP Room 4

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 364

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Emrys rolls Singing: Success (8 8 5 4 4 1)

It's very, very late and Emrys is staggering back in to Air House. He smells of cigars, more than anything, but he's clearly also a little intoxicated. He's singing, but at least it's not completely awful and he's doing it quietly. "Oh I'm a squared away sailor, who loves to go get trashed. And if I'm really lucky, they'll send me to Captain's Mast..." It's one of those charming little ditties that tend to circulate around militaries, Virgon being no exception apparently.

Astraea rolls Singing: Success (6 6 4 4 4 3 2)

The party the rest of the Timber Wolves got up to was a hit as well. Astraea left in just her bikini; the sarong got lost somewhere on the way. So did she, in fact. The woman didn't actually close the place down, as it were, but it took a while through the streets to figure her way through the base to Air House. Ships are so much easier... but also involve much less drunk time. She did manage to abscond with a bottle of rum and has been working her way through it. As the Raptor pilot approaches the house, she picks up on the thread of Emrys' song. Mostly. The only real hitch in singing along is that she's not entirely familiar with the words, so it takes a moment for her to pick up on the chorus. But hey, at least the Scorpian doesn't have a bad voice.

It takes Emrys a minute to realize someone else has joined in, and then he trails off and glances over to see who it is. "Oh, hey Nova." His tone is far too casual for the man, very relaxed. And then it dawns on him. "Oh. Hey Nova." He looks like a kid who got caught in the cookie jar, attempting to straighten up. So far the bikini goes uncommented on, beyond "You look like you had a good night."

"Hawk," Nova says, after another drink of rum. If she notices the level of 'drunk' around the Virgon pilot, she doesn't really seem to entirely notice. She's probably far too drunk herself. And that bikini? White and strappy. It stands out against her darker skin and does a fine job helping show off her Scorpian tattoos... and the broad collection of scars she has. More than most pilots and almost entirely shrapnel related. "Good?" She considers a moment before shrugging, aiming for the door still. "S'ppose so."

"Seeesh, Nova, you look like you fell on a grenade." Hawk comments, as he too heads toward the door. Because he's tactful, right at this moment, and far too honest. Pause. "You didn't, did you? Cause I'd feel really bad if you did and then I said that."

"Huh?" Nova's hand lands on the doorknob as she processes that before looking down. She blinks, contorting a bit to see one of the larger scars across her hip. "Oh." There's a drunken laugh. "More like a buildin' fell on me." And without any further context, she falls into the house.... just about literally. The woman stumbles a number of steps before she catches the back of the sofa in the lounge to right herself.

"A building fell on you? Sounds like a hell of a story." Emrys laughs in return, closing the door behind them in that 'I'm doing this really quietly' volume. He takes a moment to lean against it and steady himself. "That's hardcore, though. Don't reckon I'd be in such good shape if a building fell on me."

Leaning against the sofa, Astraea lifts the bottle for another long drink before thrusting it out in Emrys' direction in offering. And she's actually drunk enough to answer. A rarity, really. Usually, this is a topic she'd keep fairly, well, mum on. "Well it was a while ago. B'fore th'war an' everythin'. Almost didn't, but I guess Apollo was lookin' out for me. Survived th' bomb an' buildin' an' all."

Emrys takes the bottle. "Thanks." There's a long drink, and he makes a face. "Someone bombed the building you were in? That's rough. I'm sorry 'bout that. We had...similar problems on Virgon and Hibernia. The 'troubles' they called it..stupidist euphamism I've ever heard."

"Weeeeeeell..." Astraea leans back and ends up leaning too far. She topples back over the sofa. Both legs in the air for a moment before her knees bend and her sandals drop off to the floor. She just sort of stays there; flopped and feet akimbo. "I sorta bombed it," she says to the ceiling. "Th'timer went off too soon. Couldn't get out in time." Her voice is going wobbly.

Emrys blinks at that, taking another long drink because there's no way he could have heard that right. "You bombed it....and the timer went off too soon?" His voice is confused, disbelieving. "What were you doing bombing a building, Nova? You look way too young to have been a marine in a past life."

"I'm twenty-seven," Astraea protests... a bit too loudly. Hopefully no one had too early of a night. "Totally coulda been a marine then OCS an' flight school. Frak's sake, you can enlist at seventeen afterall." And she's only a jig. But she's in too deep now and she's sobered up just enough to realize what she's said. Righting herself a bit, Nova puts a hand to the back of the sofa to drag herself upright a little. She reaches a hand out towards Emrys in indication that she'd like the bottle back now, please. "An' either way, Scorpian clans don't give a frak 'bout all that. I was just... makin' sure my family had a home is all."

"Oh, I thought you were younger than that. Yeah, you could totally have been a marine." Emrys agrees, at the revelation of her age. The bottle is passed back. "So you were making sure your family had a home...by blowing up a building?" His mind is trying to make sense of it all, and wishing it was clearer. "But there weren't people in it, right?"

"Wouldn't've been iff'n th' timer had gone off at th' right time." Astraea takes the bottle back. She has a long drink, closing her eyes for a moment. "Was takin' out a rival's business. Shoppin' center here in Argentum, 'bout... five, six years ago? Go in, plant th' thing-" she takes a moment to recover as the room spins, closing her eyes. Another drink and she offers the rum back to Emrys. "But th' timer was frakked. There were still people. Lot of 'em. Didn't... have enough time to save 'em or even warn 'em b'fore it went off."

Emrys takes the rum back. He definitely needs a swig after that. Then it's passed back, wordlessly. "Yeah, they targeted malls in the troubles. Anywhere there was a decent sized civilian population." There's the sense of a drowning man clutching straws, as he struggles to make sense of what he's hearing. "Frak, Nova. That's...frak. You're...frak."

Taking the bottle, Astraea winces at the last words that Emrys gets out. Her shoulders sag and she just sort of sinks into the couch, looking away from him. "I know," she mumbles, words slurring together. "I'm a murderer. S'why I'm here. I'm tryin' to make up for it all. Th' more cylons I bring down, th' more people I protect, th' closer I get, y'know? Mebbe someday I'll feel better 'bout it all."

"I was gonna say something else. Not sure it's better or worse than murderer, but I dunno that it would be fair." Emrys admits. He's swaying, as he tries to leave. "Frak, Nova. I don't know what to say. I'm gonna sleep, and we'll talk about this tomorrow." He pauses, though. "I think, though...I mean, you didn't mean to. And you're doing something. Those have gotta count for something, right? Right." It's like he's trying to convince himself, the look on his face that of someone who has been burned with knowledge he neither wanted nor can process right now.

"Right." Astraea looks towards her room, but doesn't seem like she can really move from the sofa right now. No one's using it at current time anyway. So she just curls up with that bottle and will likely polish it off before passing out right there. It's only once she figures Emrys out of earshot that she mumbles. "Terrorist. I'm a frakkin' terrorist, I know."


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