For one last 'hurrah,' the Wolves gather at a small surf spot to hang out before they ship out.
Location: Luna Cove
Related Scenes: None
Scene Number: 365
Luna Cove is not one of the more well-known surf spots, but largely due to being a smaller one. There's no huge waves to be found here due to how they break on the barrier reef further out. However, this makes it a perfect place for a gathering and for beginner surfers. The road above has a broad shoulder perfect for parking and the path winding down has become hard-packed by years of foot traffic. Massive cliffs and ruddy-brown rock faces give privacy from the road for anyone gathering down by the beach proper while also soundproofing the area. It's just you and the waves... or you and the music plus all of your friends.
There's a massive bonfire, a large grill (or two), and a hodgepodge collection of blankets and chairs. The place has been clearly readied for a last hurrah of the Timber Wolves before they ship back out. There's beer, meats of all kinds, and someone procured a stereo. Surf boards (and other flotation devices) are on hand for those that want to try their hand at the waves. There's even a couple Pyramid balls for pickup games in the sand.
There's a massive bonfire, a large grill (or two), and a hodgepodge collection of blankets and chairs. The place has been clearly readied for a last hurrah of the Timber Wolves before they ship back out. There's beer, meats of all kinds, and someone procured a stereo. Surf boards (and other flotation devices) are on hand for those that want to try their hand at the waves. There's even a couple Pyramid balls for pickup games in the sand.
Balls. Erin likes them.
Specifically, she likes playing with them. On the Pyramind Court. Where she can shake that awful rumor about her bookishness and participate in rigorous competition.
Since her last mission, the recon Marine has been a veritable recluse. Now, she appears to be closer to 'herself', for those that know her. It is evident in her beer-swilling braggadocio. And in how she's been on the court playing for, what, maybe half an hour now without a break. Her sundress and boots are left by a bench near the sand's edge, so that those don't get messed up.
\Aubrey has been out surfing since early that morning. She hit the bigger waves elsewhere, before heading to the Cove for the party. She looks at home settled on a towel with a rented board stuck in the sand nearby and a short-sleeved rashgard, currently unzipped, to show the pale purple bikini with orange tropical flowers worn beneath. She has a beer in hand and is sipping from it as she watches how the waves break here.
Anyone who said that one should never eat before going in the water is a dirty, dirty liar. Clearly. Or else Abigail doesn't give a damn about safety, as she carries a plate weighed down by as much barbecued meat as she can fit, with a few cobbs of corn, and squirrel away towards a small seating area not far from the bonfire. She's clearly got enough for two, though she wandered in by her lonesome. Maybe she just need extra sustenance, before her 'shift' giving surfing lessons. She's wearing a simple boyshort style bikini, her top covered by a bright white rashguard.
Geoff slinks toward the beach looking like he hasn't had too much sleep lately. Perhaps he's been burning the candle at both ends trying to make the most out of the last precious moments of shore leave. He's wearing that tank top that he's fashioned out of a touristy t-shirt, altered with strategic slashes and weaving.
Recently in off the waves herself, Charlie is looking flushed, but happy. The woman has been out here all day and it's just pushing sunset now. She's spent a good part of the day teaching various people how to surf. Or trying, at least. She's not the most patient of teachers, having been one of those who took to the board like a fish to water. Surfing came natural to her; there was little to no learning curve. In many cases, she had to just splash off and shout for Abigail to take over. Sure, these aren't her preferred waves, but she promised to put this shindig together, so she's stuck by it. She was here bright and early to oversee the surfing portion of the day and the lazier marines were tasked with beers, food, and grill for the latter. The bonfire, blankets, and other ephemera were just collected later on.
The sniper's own bikini is some black, strappy thing and she's shedding her own rashguard -- something also black -- is shed as she returns to the towel she's claimed, snatching a beer from a cooler as she goes. "Abby," she says to the female of the twins, "I am so sorry 'bout missing your party last night. Got tied up elsewhere."
"You know if you had shown up, I would have thrown you ass back out, Wagner. You had better things to be doing..." There's a smirk, at the end of that. "Although, Calhoun might have enjoyed the jello wrestling."
Irene can be seen out in the surf, sitting atop a surfboard where she's collecting herself after a spill and dunk, which looks like the last in a series of many. She's tough to miss, given the sleeves of her rashguard are hot pink and the rest is an even split between black and blinding cyan. Which is good, since she seems really determined to drown herself out there. She had been picking up some pro tips from Charlie earlier, but she isn't going to be earning her expert surfing badge any time soon - despite her best efforts. Kicking her feet slowly beneath the water, she rakes her hair back out of her face and spares a glance over her shoulder at the beach, perhaps considering a retreat to dry land.
Emrys wanders down to the beach, dressed in a way that suggests he doesn't intend to go into the water. He's just here to hang out, eat some food, maybe socialize a little. As he approaches the group, his eyes flit about as though looking for particular individuals.
Calliope is soaking up as much remaining shore leave as she can. Tonight, that means making her way down to the cove. She arrives dressed in pink floral shorts and strappy red tank top. Neck cranes to watch the surfers, though she doesn't look like she's come to participate in that. Firstly, she heads bonfire-wards.
Micah looks like he belongs on the beach. Or in a poster with one somewhere in the background. The distant background, as it were, because he doesn't seem terribly interested in swimming. The newest Captain to add his name to the roster of the Timber Wolves wanders onto the beach with thin cigar clutched between his teeth, smoking like it's one of the few pleasures in his life. He's dressed in a simple pair of grey board shorts and a dark blue v-neck. He does hold a bottle of water, though. Because when smoking? Health is extra important.
"Heads-up!" A shot, launched, deflects off of an opponent. Erin's warning is brief, but loud, as the Pyramid ball nearly beans Charlie as she gets a beer from the cooler.
It was probably a mistake. Probably. But, upon closer review, maybe the ball didn't deflect off of a hand. Maybe Erin just hurled it at Charlie's head, missing narrowly. Because raccoons are assholes like that.
"Hey, hey, hey." Now, Erin's got an excuse to sidle up to Chuck and Abby. "What uuuuup?" She grins widely. "Hi."
\Aubrey gets up off her towel and heads towards the grills, to find herself some grub. She smiles at people as she passes. "Hey Charlie, great party," she notes to the sniper as she piles up a plate. Her wet hair is back in a messy braid that mostly keeps her hair out of her face when she's surfing.
"It's old news by now, Wagner. You're in the clear! On to juicier, more exciting things. But next time? You're mine." A grin, which expands to include Erin, as the trash panda wanders over, and Abigail holds up the plate, "Snack?" her eyes do glance across the beach, noting the arrival of a new new and at least one familiar face, and she lifts a hand in the blonde captain (not the brunette one)'s direction, waving in a general sort of, 'everyone get over here', gesture.
Irene lets the waves wash her closer to shore as she gives up on trying to tread in place, coasting in like a neon bit of blonde floatsam on the rented board. In no great hurry, she watches the horizon bob, even while tipping her head in a vain attempt to coax some of the water out of her ears. She doesn't look anywhere else, really, until she finally runs aground in the sand and can plant her feet on the bottom. That's when she takes the time to stretch her arms langourously overhead and properly check out the growing crowd on the beach.
Emrys looks relieved when he spots Micah, and begins to drift over to the other man. "Busker." It's an easy greeting, little more than the callsign and a nod, but there's warmth in his tone. He's obviously pleased to see the other.
"For me?" The fingers on Erin's hands curl and wiggle in a grabby sort of way. "You're too kind. I'm famished. I could eat it all. But I won't because, you know, that's bad manners. But first -- " She jogs over to where the Pyramid ball landed, and hurls it back into the Court. " -- I'm taking a break!" she yells towards the competitors there, and someone takes her place.
"So, so, so -- what's this about a party?" Erin snags some bit of cooked meat off of Abigail's plate, and gnaws on it absently. "I was doing some, uh -- physiotherapy. Whatever. I was in sickbay. My entire groin still stings a bit."
"Well, I figured none of us are quite ready to head to the new ship and that pilot out there-" Charlie indicates Irene, "talked about wanting some surfing tips-" she shrugs, tucking her beer between two fingers as she loads up her own plate. "One last night of freedom, yeah?" She looks back at Abigail, scoffing, "It's like everyone was gossiping instead of drinking!" Or that everyone already knew and it was just a 'thank Kobol' moment. Once she's got her plate, she makes her way back in the general direction of the bonfire and 'gathering' proper to plunk herself down on a blanket... and within reach of one of the coolers. Best to be able to grab a beer as need dictates. When Erin mentions being in therapy, Charlie winces a bit in sympathy.
"Hawk. Good to see you." Micah's infectious smile manages to appear despite the cigar. His feet stop churning sand as soon as he reaches his fellow pilot. It's Abigail's wave that draws his eyebrows into an arch, though. "It seems as though I'm being summoned... But." A beat. "Why don't you join me? I think between you and them, the average age might be somewhere near my level."
When Charlie responds she gives a chuckle and a nod, Aubrey gives Abby and Erin a smile and a little wave as she grabs utensils, then she heads back to her blanket and her beer. She keeps an eye on Irene to make sure the pilot doesn't drown out there. Lifeguard duty.
"I see you managed to avoid falling into a brig on the way home." Emrys grins at Micah, before nodding agreement at the talk of joining him. "Certainly, I'd be delighted."
"Eat to your heart's content, Erin, you know I know how to get more." Indeed, Abigail is only too happy to play living serving table, so Erin can grab some of the food she's piled on there. "I was wondering when you were going to get your kinks worked out. So, everything back in working order then?" Once she sees Micah joining up with the brunette, Abigail settles for giving both of them a once over, "Wagner, did you bring extra boardshorts? Anyone, Anyone?"
Irene rubs her shoulder absently, gives it a roll when she's done and comes to the slow realization that she's turning into one big goosebump. It could be the shivering that tips her off. There's a final look out onto the waves before she bonelessly slides off and into the ocean. A second or two later she's on her feet and wading onto the beach, board under her arm. The heat of the bonfire seems to be her destination, only deviating off that line to plant the board in the sand with a few others.
"I guess," reports Erin to Abigail, shrugging her shoulders. "I mean, there's permanent damage." She doesn't elaborate. "Movement-wise, I could use a bit more therapy, but -- " Another shrug. " -- I'm good to go, combat-wise, and that's important, right? Shoot a gun, kill for fun -- all that jazz." A third shrug, followed by a large grin. "Just what the doctor ordered, I guess."
And, Erin takes another chunk of meat. She looks over her shoulder at Charlie, but says no more. Because she's eating, and her fingers are reaching for more of Abigail's food, whether Walker wants her to or not.
"I think some of the guys did, in case folks didn't have any-" Charlie hooks a thumb towards a pile of towels, spare rashguards, and the like. "Dig through there?" When Irene approaches, she lifts her beer in greeting for the Raptor pilot. "Eat! Drink!" And in a more sobered voice: "You did well. The new ship has a pool. We can practice some moves in it if you want sometime." She does, mutely, lift her plate in offer to Erin for the raccoons perusal.
"Well. We'll see after the headlines of the paper come out. I may have some folks on to me." Micah moves with a lazy gate toward the camp fire, content to enjoy the evening air and the company. "I meant to thank you for picking up the tab, by the way. That night... Well, I think the three of us should form a committee or something. Officially, of course. Why settle for a party when you can settle for a party AND an OER bullet?" Finally, his steps bring him within range of the crackles of fire, the food, folks, and Abigail. "Abby? You've met Hawk before, I assume?"
Once Irene is out of the water, and no others are attempting to surf just yet, Aubrey gets up and heads over to the bonfire with her food and beer. The self-appointed life guard is off duty. No one drown in the meantime. She sends a wave towards Emrys and Micah before plopping down on another towel.
"True. We could always use more OER bullets." Emrys agrees as we wander over that. "And headlines in the paper are one thing. It's actions lead to a three hour safety brief that really get up my nose." Priorites, people. Irene's wave is returned, and then he's being introduced. "I don't believe we've met, actually. Hawk." He holds out a hand.
"Oh, is it more therapy you need? You want I should start putting out feelers with the incoming contingent of marines? I've seen a few who might....might, I say, be available for therapy." Again, that smirk, as Charlie too, brings offerings to the trash panda, "Hey, Micah." There's a slight warming to her voice, and a friendly smile for the man beside him, "I have not. But now I have," She risks loss of limb, as she moves the plate towards the two men who've arrived, and farther away from Erin's reach, freeing a hand to shake, "Abigail Walker. Pick a name, abbreviate it, run with it. I answer to practically anything. You should change Paddleboarding lessons in thirty."
"Thanks! I wanted to keep going, but my arms feel like jelly." Irene smiles at Charlie, demonstrating with a noodle-y, weak shake of said arms. They dead. "I think I've got it though, what you said about where your point of balance should be. Helpful." When she's at the hot edge of the fire she sticks out her hands and tries to warm up some. Shiver shiver. She looks around at everyone else gathered, lifting her hand to anyone familiar and pairing it with a tired, but content smile.
Erin sort of makes a face at Charlie. Sort of. It's a grumpy expression, then a self-deprecating smile, and then something else that's vaguely disturbing only. "Yeah, I somehow doubt any of the newcomers would be particularly interested in me," she tells the other recon Marine with a mock note of sadness. "Honest, down there, it looks like a seam of a Pyramid ball. Wouldn't know how to penetrate it or eat it." She squints. "It also sort of, like -- I don't know -- you know how it's supposed to look like a flower?" Beat. "Yeah, mine sort of looks like the jowls of a bloodhound. I'm guessing no one bothered to figure out how it was supposed to appear when they sewed me back up. Either that or scar tissues a frakkin' harsh mistress."
"You'll be lucky to keep the safety brief to three hours. Catch is?" Micah doesn't move for the plate. He does open his water bottle and take a drink. It adds a satisfying air of anticipation to his statement. "You'll be the one giving it." A smile, and those dark grey eyes turn to Abby and the surf behind her. "Paddleboard lessons. Now that sounds like a worthwhile reason for a trip to the med bay. What do you think, Hawk? How bad can water hu-" Annnnnnd Erin. We'll just say that particular train of thought was hit by a howitzer. "Paddleboard lessons sound fantastic, Abby."
"Hey Iris, you did pretty good out there," Aubrey says to the Raptor pilot between bites of food. "First time surfing?" she asks, cheerfully. "Did even better considering you were at the party last night. I think half the people who were are in comas right now."
Emrys shakes his head at the talk of him giving the safety brief. "Hell I will, and if you somehow manage to rig it..." There's a smirk of his own, as they move on to the subject of paddleboarding. "I'm not really dressed for it. And anyway..." And then Erin. She came in like a wrecking ball! Fortunately he holds his composure. "Well, I guess if he's doing it I'll do it."
"See? Wagner always talks sense. Also, no one says no to Sasha." A waggle of her brows, as Abigail sees the response from both Micah and Emrys, her grin widening, "Welcome to Marine Country." A glance around, as she looks for a convenient place to set down her plate, before she holds it out to Erin, just in case, "I need to find some shorts for Mr. Man here." She glances back at Emrys, "No way you're going out like that."
Irene is basically staring at Erin when she describes what's going on downstairs, but she's obviously missing some crucial part of the story that would make it all click together. That's likely for the best. Maybe just let the Virgan remain mostly confused and innocent. "Unmarred? I just spent three weeks in hospital having shrapnel removed." She quietly notes, neither offended nor particularly proud of the fact. No grisly details are forthcoming either, she instead grins at the other mentioned pilot and inches that way, "Thanks, Banshee. I've only tried it once or twice before... and I couldn't even wake Bingo this morning, she still had whip cream in her hair and everything. Looks like you're in one piece though."
Erin runs her tongue along the inside of her teeth. "Feel sorry for myself?" She gives Charlie a 'WTF?' face. "Look. I just have that kind of attention to my bits, all right? I'm not all right in the head, so I might as well be right in the crotch, yeah?" She pops open the offered beer. "And exactly how should I feel if a marine pulls down my shorts and vomits up his dinner. Real confidence-boosting there."
Erin's sort of snicker-snorts, before she puts on a fake, gravelly voice that sounds an awful lot like Mercer. "'So, that girl? Frak. Went down on there. Total frakkin' disaster. Man, I've seen people with faces blown off. I've seen people blown to bits by missiles. But that girl's bits?'" She shivers. "'Ugh. I upchucked my lunch. Totally horrible.'" Snort. "'Sad.'"
It's all for show, of course, but there's a note of -- disappointment? embarrassment? -- something in Erin's voice. She's kidding and teasing and making fun, but there's more to it. She's not entering a MASH-esque maudlin moment, but still. To Abby, then: "Who's Sasha?" And then, she looks to Charlie, and repeats: "Who's Sasha?"
"Yeah, I have the booze constitution of a former model and actress. Cast iron liver," Aubrey quips to Irene. "Actually I just took two aspirin and drank a gallon of water before bed. Keeps the hangovers at bay." She tips her chin towards the water. "No hangover can keep me away from that though. I could surf before I could ride a bike. Not Charlie level stuff, I didn't compete, but I was out there most every day in my misspent youth." At the mention of them being unmarred, she snorts and rubs at the nasty scar across one thigh.
"Pff, shrapnel. Just another day in the office." Or in the tree. "You lot get one wound and fuss over whether you'll ever fly again. Erin here got tased in the lady bits and practically had to be dragged back to our ride home 'cause she was still fighting." Really depends on the amount of shrapnel, one might say. Charlie sets her plate next to her and reaches an arm out toward Erin, grabby-handing at the raccoon to drag her over if she can get a hand on a limb proper to pull the other recon over to her. "Sasha," she explains between long sips of beer. "is my rifle and the number one love in my life." There's a brief pause as she squints out at the ocean and amends, gesturing with her beer. "Sorry, number two. But I haven't broken the news to her yet, so be kind once we're on the Dauntless, wouldja? She might be broken up about it."
"Why can't he go out there like that? Pants can be inflated and used as a flotation device." Micah looks between Abigail and Emrys his eyebrows up and his shoulders risen in a shrug. "Speaking of safety briefs, where the hell do you think I learned that?" He pauses. "Because if I get shot down, the first thing I'm going to think about is the proper way to inflate my pants and float on them." Sometimes, the Caprican Navy was a bit too extensive in their emergency preparedness. "Naxos?! You bring your camera?"
"I'm sure this is fine." Emrys agrees of his pants. "After all, nobody wants to see my legs, I assure you. Not if you ever want to see anything again." Micah gets a suspicious look, then. "Why do we need a camera, exactly?"
Abigail, finally, finds an empty crate, setting down the plate and with her hands free, reaches out to, for a wonder, the shorter woman, whether she gives her consent or not, and it's perfectly timed, with Charlie's grab, so that, for a moment, the three women are a pile of Mariney lovey-dovey goodness. And then Abby slips away, leaving Erin in Charlie's good graces, moving back to her two 'students', "Because, as soon as those pants get wet, the rest of us will know secrets he might not want to be known." She heads off, towards the pile, to find something that might be suitable for Emrys.
Irene laughs softly and waves off the dismissal of her shrapnel wounds for being so boringly pedestrian, "I know better than to compare scars with Marines." She'll say, admitting defeat before turning back to Aubrey. "Wow. Seriously? With all the surfers in this unit, we're going to have to rig the new pool to throw six foot breaks around." Hands toasted sufficiently she crosses her arms and takes a step back from the flames, dodging a bright red spark that pops up and then drifts lazily over her shoulder before blackening into a curl of ash.
Aubrey grins at Irene, then perks up at her name and chuckles. "I did, Knoor." She gets up and brushes the sand off her backside before crossing back to her rented board and beach tote. She digs her camera out and holds it up. "Shot a bunch earlier, still have some room left." She slides the strap over her head and snaps off a few shots of the gathering as she walks back towards the bonfire. "Why do you ask?"
"Taser?" Erin makes a noise at Charlie, and protests again. "Taser? Girlfriend, it was an arc welder. A welder. Do you know what those things do? They are used to put battleships together. Most definitely should not be used to weld meat curtains."
Yep. Raccoons go anywhere.
Still, Erin seems pleased to be squeezed by Abby and Charlie, despite her protests. "Staaaahp, frak, you'll make me look like a pansie, you tight-bodied, nubile creatures." She makes a hand-waving dismissive gesture, and then turns her attention to Emrys and Micah. "'sup?" That's her official greeting.
Logan arrives fashionably late because... well... Logan. He apparently was not the early surfboard type and so he's now just wandering down the beech. He's sipping at something in a bag. It's possibly some sort of protein shake. It's more than likely nothing so wholesome. He picks his way over towards the raucous group and catching bits of it he grumbles to Irene, "Just as long as your surfing area doesn't cut into my full-sized Pyramid court." He informs her and then he blinks at Erin. It's a long pointed blink that very clearly says... I want to know...but I'm terrified of knowing.
"You remember the guy with the cigar last night?" Micah offers Emrys by way of explanation. "All I have to say is that if anyone inflates any item of clothing, I want documented proof. Probably in duplicate." He watches Aubrey approach, removing the cigar from his lips. "I'm sure Cherry will want a copy, I owe her for showing me that cigar bar." When, finally, the model turned photographer gets a bit closer to the fire, Micah smiles at her. "How's it going? I haven't seen you around since after the ball."
Wagner is trying to help Erin feel better, but if people are hung up on shrapnel or single leg scars, however will she manage to overcome the psychological issues of much larger problems?! When Erin protests, Charlie hushes her a bit, "Careful," she muses aloud, grinning, "the delicate menfolk might get scared off." There's a grin as she lifts her bottle for a swig. "You know they can't handle when we women talk about our bodies like that." None of her own scars go quite to the extremes of what Erin had described earlier, but plenty mirror Aubrey's own in intensity... Like the one on her left arm that looks like something with teeth tried to get a bite of her.
"The pool and pyramid court are wholly separate, so I hear," Spectre assures Logan on his approach, snorting. She sets her beer aside to reach for her plate, keeping an arm on Erin. Nope, no letting the raccoon go anytime soon. "If there's any cigars," she pipes up, "I would like one."
"Hey, you're pretty spry, Lindus. You'd probably dominate in water pyramid." Irene decides, bouncing over to fetch him and drag him closer to the fire with everyone else. Or just her, because she also might be slightly terrified of the woman that took an arc welder to the crotch, and lived. She gives the big Aerilonian a brief look and subtle shake of her head. Don't ask. She's gleaned enough to know it's not good to know.
Like a woman with years of long practice, Abigail riffles through the collection of board shorts, holding up this pair or that pair, sizing them up in the direction of Emrys in the distance. Finally, she settles on the brightest, hottest pink set she can find, and then starts back towards the two pilots. "Alright, Mr. Man, drop them, I got your gear right here." She holds out the shorts, "I assume you both know how to swim."
"Well that's because you're a Captain and I'm a peon," Aubrey points out to Micah with a smirk. "And also, I'm pretty sure you've had better things to do than worry about me snapping your picture." She gives Abigail a grin at that. When the woman herself returns and orders Emrys to drop trou, the camera comes up for sure. "Come on, Uncle Hawk, no pants at a beach party!"
"I'm sure Cherry will /not/ want a copy." Emrys is quick to protest. "And it sounds like shorts are an excellent idea, bright legs or not." Having swiftly reversed his position, he's suddenly confronted with the consequences in the form of Abigail. "Well, ah..." He glances around for somewhere to change, but no such luck. And so he is forced to change right there. He wasn't kidding about those legs.
Logan grins at Charlie, "We're delicate now? Where's Calhoun?" He asks innocently. He looks from Charlie, to Aubrey, to Erin and then grins at Irene, "Pool Pyramid huh? Might be entertaining. I was just thinking, people might have a chance then. But you're probably right." He says with his typical casual arrogance. He then pauses and then he gives sad puppy dog eyes at Abby, "You took my favorite shorts." Because well...Lindus.
"Lindus, these wouldn't even fit around one of your calves." Abigail gives a snort, as she looks away from where Emrys is changing, a smile offered to Aubrey as she gets closer, "Paddleboarding. if they can stay up, might make for a nice series of shots." A wince, as she catches the glare off Emrys' legs in her periphery. "I see now what you mean."
"Well, that photo certainly didn't need a flash. Pretty sure it would come out focused even at night," Aubrey quips, due to the whiteness of Emrys' legs. "I'm not sure mom will want a copy of that unless she needs a nightlight in her rack."
Micah looks right at Emrys. Like, directly. With no humor in his eyes. "What the hell is an 'Uncle Hawk'?" And then he takes his pants off. Yeah, this is about how the pilot's week has been going. "Saving you from indecency by causing you to change in public. Are we sure this isn't sponsored by the Caprican Navy?" He looks between Aubry and Abby for answers. "You think we meet at some sort of secret 'Captain's Club', Naxos? I wish. We tried, but you know, budget restrictions."
"Pff. Delicate." Erin rolls her eyes, and snorts. "Eh. Men are men. Bless them for what they do, if not for how they smell." And, so, she seems to leave the topic about vaginas and scarring aside. For now.
With Abigail occupied, the Trash Panda (alternate callsign) snags her own plate, and then eyes what's available. For the moment, she seems to eschew the meat she was munching on, preferring to go after whatever fruits and vegetables may be around.
Except for a sausage. A nice, thick piece of hot meat, fresh off the grill. Armed with this device of substantial comedic value, Erin quietly and deftly -- on bare feet -- attempts to sneak up on Charlie. Others can see the approaching Mistress of Mischief, but the question is whether anyone will stop her from whatever she plans to do to Charlie with said sausage.
"Calhoun," Charlie answers Logan, "is prob'ly spending some time with his family. He might join us later." When Emrys seems to shy-up about changing, the sniper rolls her eyes. "Ain't nothing none of us ain't seen before! Drop 'em!" She drains the rest of her beer before leaning for another before settling back against the towel she's settled on. "Pool Pyramid could be fun. I'd be down." Because pool. Really, she's just thrilled to be on a ship with a pool again. The woman has returned to just enjoying her own alcohol and what remains on her plate. Unlike Hayes, she has gone largely for protein over fruit on her plate. Plus some carbs. To make up for the energy expended surfing since the break of dawn.
Irene ain't even phased by casual arrogance. She looks like she's got fan vision for Logan, practically complete with sparkly stars dancing in her eyes. Of course nobody else would have a chance, not against a THRESHER. "I am right. You'd totally be MVP of the semi-aquatic league," If it, like, existed and stuff. Minor detail. "With Wagner here right on your heels, so you'd have to train hard. I think she has gills, so." She's only distracted by all the changing and photos, so much to keep track of and she still hasn't found her way to food, beer or even her towel.
"The difference is, none of us are staring at you when you change. That's beaten in to you in basic. But no one is going to be looking away while you're out there on the water. So a little embarrassment now, or a lot of embarrassment later." Abigail shrugs, the expression very much, 'what can you do, before she heads off to secure a trio of paddle boards, moving them in close to each other.
Aubrey snorts at Micah. "Well I've been around. You must have been busy," she quips with a wink. "And he's Uncle Hawk because he's almost old enough to be my dad," she points out, helpfully, with a sparkle smile of pure innocence. Then she watches Erin and her sausage escapades and turns the camera towards Charlie to hopefully capture whatever hell the Aquarian is about to unleash.
"I have no idea." Emrys answers with a half-shrug. If he's perturbed by the fact Micah doesn't find it at all funny, it doesn't show. "It's what she started calling me in a dogfight one day. I should just be glad it isn't grandfather." And there he stands, in the hottest, brightest, pink shorts on the beach.
Logan blinks slowly as he tilts his head to the side and lifts an arm to snif. He takes a time considering this and then shrugs, "Fair play." He offers to Erin and then grins at Abigail, "What? You mean you aren't supposed to tear your clothes everytime you bend over?" He asks in surprise. He tracks Erin while chatting happily with Charlie and makes no move whatsoever to hinder Erin in any way. If anything he takes a half step closer to Charlie and takes up more of her field of view. absently, "Mmm fair 'nough. Look at him being all reliable." He takes another sip of his drink and then he grins at Irene, "Well I'm sure I'll need your help though. Got to have a proper team." He says brightly.
That is the origin story of how Emrys became a fashion icon. "Old enough to be your fa- He's like half a decade older than I am!" Micah laughs, though whether it's at 'Captain Flamingo Legs' or at Aubrey is anyone's guess. "We can't pick our nicknames, Hawk... Or, sometimes, our clothing. Feel like going and making fools of ourselves?" He nods toward Abigail and her single woman wrangling of the paddle boards. "What's the worst that can happen?"
"And you're almost a decade older than me, Knoor, do the math, Rockstar!" Aubrey replies, with her eye still to the camera's viewfinder.
It takes just a few seconds. Erin creeps up on Charlie, and then unceremoniously drops her sausage into the other Marine's shorts. This is followed by the sort of mad hooting that comes with pranking, along with scampered running whilst holding a plate full of food.
Naturally, this only lasts for a few seconds. Erin's a dextrous, athletic woman that can run with the best, but with drinking and sand comes unforeseen or unexpected pitfalls. That, and not having boots on, makes any Marine's life precarious, especially when running from someone equally as fast and probably as heinous.
It is with this understanding that Erin makes it to the sand, and then face-plants into it. Her food and plate go up in the air, and then land here, there, and on her head. Because that's just what happens when you're unfortunate enough to get a construction tool in the woman parts.
Not that she has to go far, considering Hayes rather handily defeats herself. However, tussling in the sand is rather required at this point.
"Nope, we can't." Emrys agrees easily enough, looking down at the hot pink shorts. He follows Micah's nod, and begins heading that way. "What's the worst that can happen? Safety brief. But sure, Busker, let's go get make fools of ourselves."
Hard to say how much help Irene would be on a pool pyramid team, but she gives Logan a double thumbs up. She's game. She's also a bit cold and still damp, despite standing as close to the fire as she can without having her eyebrows go up in a puff of smoke. She picks absently at her soaked rashguard for a while, pulling the neon material from her skin only to have it schluck wetly back into place. Maybe a change is in order, with the adventures of Uncle Hawk and Micah no doubt partly prompting the idea in her head. There's the start of a move from her when the sausage goes down Charlie's bottoms and chaos erupts. When it doesn't turn into bloodshed, she unfreezes and strolls off, laughing. Marines are weird.
Snap snap snap. Photos galore to commemorate the prank and its consequences. "Pretty sure this WILL be the next safety briefing," Aubrey murmurs. She gives Logan a pat on the arm as she passes by, heading to the shore to take photos of the paddleboarders once they get in the water.
Logan shrugs at Charlie, "I figure it's like when a guy pulls a girl's hair i..." He maintains his face as Charlie has that distinctly concerned look. He begins to grin widely as the hooting begin. He takes Charlie's beer and watches contently grinning to Irene, "This should be good." He pauses and then calls out, "Spectre, you can't just go around swinging your sausage at every guy you meet. Have some class." He says brightly as he catches said sausage and then he's considering the sausage as if trying to decide if it's still good. He then grins at Aubrey, "I'm pretty sure they know better than to put Recon in safety briefings. It just doesn't make sense." Logan is clearly amused and... Marines are weird. Recon are the Marines that the Marines think are weird. He offers as he considers the sausage thoughtfully.
Indeed, Marines are weird. Actually, that would be a generalizaton -- an unfair one. Abigail and Charlie seem quite normal. It is Erin who seems a bit off-kilter.
Falling on her face makes her laugh. Getting tackled and wrestled with makes her giggle. And then, as if it had been her plan all along, the rambunctious, undisciplined, brash, smallish Marine wrestles in earnest. Arms flex. Hands grasp. Hair flips. Sand goes up and around, along with bits of pineapple, apple, and watermelon.
Girl sand fight!
It takes some time. It probably attracts attention. Maybe even a bet or two. In the end? Erin ends up on top, hands wrapped up and holding Charlie's down. A cocky grin appears on her face, as she pants just a little.
"Say, where's Calhoun?" asks the Aquarian coyly. "Heh. Meat curtains." And then she lets Charlie go with a laugh, and rolls off of her.
"That came suspiciously close to calling me old." Micah murmurs gravely, walking backwards a few steps to maintain eye contact with Aubrey. There's a mischievous look in the smile that rides his features. The cherry on that cigar glows bright. "Pictures and elder shaming. Another strike..." When he finally turns, it's to wander toward Abigail... And the pink beacon walking just in front of him. "Yeah, I can swim. But if I die..." He pauses, glancing back over his shoulder. "Everybody BUT Naxos gets something."
"I can swim, yes." Emrys confirms, as he takes one of the paddleboards. "So...get out past the break. And then it's all balance." He echoes, as if trying to commit to memory. "If I die..." He joins in the game. "Well, I don't have anything here anybody'd want. It's all back on Virgon."
"Oh don't be cross, Knoor! You're very well preserved for your age!" Aubrey calls after him with a grin. Hey, she was, in his own words, too young to be in his music videos back then. "And lemme hang onto the stoagie, because it's not going to survive you falling off that board!" she adds helpfully.
Recon are just weird in their own way. Charlie may seem normal some of the time, but then she does things like sleep with her rifle. Then again, it's a very special rifle. The only one in the unit (so far) like it. Can you blame her? Okay, she only sleeps with it when Calhoun isn't around. The wrestling in the sand goes fairly apace with bets and catcalling... until the sand starts getting thrown. Then Spectre just starts sputtering and trying to protect her eyes. "Hey! Stop!" She spits. "Hayes!" But the ploy works for the Aquarian and Charlie loses, with the other recon atop her. "Evan," she answers, sitting upright finally to start shaking sand out of her braids, "is probably saying bye to his family. Like-" she gives Erin a long look and a wrinkled nose, "I said. "I'll see him later and we'll be on the ship in the morning." Probably last second and throwing their things onto a couple of bunks, while getting yelled at by Mercer or someone else equally in charge.
"Oh, have no fear, I have no intention of letting either of you die." Abigail, with her own gear in hand, she starts off down the beach, "Right. I'll show you how to swim out past the break, how to pops up onto the board, and then it's all balance. You can start on your knees, nd work up to standing, once you have the hang of it." Because as much fun as the party is, the water is no joke.
Irene has to skirt the girl sand fight to find her way to her stuff, so watches the epic struggle unfold. She's definitely amused and waits until there's a clear victor before finally turning away to shuck off her rashguard and wrap herself in the towel she scoops from the sand after shaking it out first. As she pads back towards the fire, she pauses to offer a hand up to Wagner, or the crazier Erin. "Anything broken?"
Oh! A hand. Erin takes it, and pulls on Irene to get herself up. She is small, yea, but she is mighty. Also, kind of heavy: muscles weighs a lot, and Erin's not exactly a wilting flower.
"Hello!" she says to Irene as she's righted up. "I'm okay. Nothing to worry about. Been hurt a lot worse, and -- " She wiggles her fingers at her head. " -- my hair's short, and sand comes out, and I'll just get another plate of food, but I can't recommend playing Pyramid here because, whew, it's all like, whoa, full of food, right, am I right?" Chuckle.
"Oh! I'm Hayes. Erin. You know Wagner here? Chuck." The Trash Panda sticks a thumb at the woman she just mounted and dismounted.
The cigar is much like Captain Knoor: expensive and Caprican. "Well preserved?! You're not gaining back points!" Micah takes one last puff and holds his breath before he has to relinquish his cigar to Aubrey. He does, though, with a smile and a wink. Abigail's words seem to sink in, however. "Swim out, pop up, and balance. Solid copy, Walker." An aside to Emrys, "Mutual agreement. No jokes about spending the night on your knees past midnight, yes? What happens on Scorpia..."
Logan continues to look thoroughly amused at the antics and takes a sip of his own drink eventually he wanders in their direction and extends Charlie's beer to Erin, "I'm pretty sure as the victor you claim the spoiles." He says waiting for her to take it and then holds sausage out to Charlie, "Your sausage." He then nods as if he's done a proper work.
"....stays on Scorpia." Emrys completes the phrase, and with it the agreement. "Alright. Let's see how this goes..." He's apparently ready to go. "Swim out, pop, and balance." And off he goes into the water.
Aubrey takes the cigar and holds it with one hand while wielding the camera with the other. She chuckles. "Oh please, you know you're hot. So does Hawk. Stop being babies." She wrinkles up her nose.
The hand from Irene is waved off, but Erin has claimed it nonetheless. Charlie gets to her feet and shakes out her hair... then unties her bikini top so she can shake that out too and a little hop for the bottoms. It's all sort of a mess and there might be a little show involved for those watching. Not a lot, but a little before she gets everything contained back in place. "You-" she points at Erin, "are helping me wash my hair tomorrow if I don't get it all out tonight." And then there's a sausage in her face. She levels a look at Logan. "You'd better follow that with a cigar, Titan."
With her two trainees in tow, Abigail makes short work of the last stretch of sand, snapping the paddle to the board, before she wades out into the water, using the board to provide buoyancy, as she demonstrates how to duck dive beneath the waves on the way out past the break, where the water is calm and gentle. A few good minutes, for instructions, before the pair are left to their own devices to practice. Abigail, for her part, is simply standing and balancing a she watches them occasionally using the paddle to guide her closer too, or farther away from the pair.
Hey no problem. Irene just leans back enough to compensate with physics where her jellified arm strength might otherwise fail her. She'll help Erin up that way, smiling at the introduction she echoes, "Hi. I'm Harris, Irene. Iris. Sure, I know Wagner. I think we may even be in the same berthing now. It's the bunk with the rifle in it, right?" She'll ask as she grabs the corners of her towel and hugs herself into it again. "I'm in five. And I don't see any blood or exposed bones, so, um. More food? Sounds good."
"Oh, I wouldn't miss it," replies Erin to Charlie's demand of helping her wash up. She even adds an eyebrow waggle for show. |"Sure you don't need help washing your back? I'll bet you need help washing your back."
Back to Irene. "Food's good. You like food? I like food." Sand clings to Erin, but she seems to give fewer than three shits about it. "Don't think we've met. Then again, did you hear? My lady parts were fused together by a helpful Cylon." Grin. "Seems that, well, if they can't kill us, they might as well stop us from breeding. Although, that might just be a personal vendetta against us recon Marines; we have a bad habit of killing a lot of toasters when we hit the ground." Which they do. And would be celebrated, if Marines celebrated kills.
Erin continues to talk at a mile a minute. "So, where you from? Around here?"
<FS3> Emrys rolls Athletics: Success (8 6 5 5 4)
<FS3> Abigail rolls Surfing: Good Success (8 8 6 4 4 3 1)
Paddle boards are definitely not as simple for Micah as a few other tasks. Playing the piano, for instance. Singing. And talking crap. But truthfully, he doesn't seem to be too bad at this alien water sport. He bobs in and out of the waves as they paddle past the break, his hair plastered against his head and his eyes adjusting to the dull glow of Hawk's swim trunks. Knoor does fall, reacting wrong to the board's wobble as his feet find it's surface. The next try, though? Sweet success.
Aubrey's photos aren't the greatest today, but passable. Considering she's drinking, and holding a cigar hostage in her off hand, is it any wonder? Or maybe it's because she looks away from the viewfinder every once in a while to see the group as a whole. She doesn't want anyone to drown out there, and she's ready to dive in if they need help.
"Gods, really? You're all sealed up down there? How do you... pee?" Irene wonders, but she looks like she immediately regrets asking. She also seems much more concerned about the sand on Erin than she probably should be, reaching out to lightly brush some of it off the verbal woman's shoulder. She's very tidy like that. "I'm from Virgon, but born on Aerilon. So half bumpkin, half insufferable snob. What kind of place produces someone like you?" She asks, tone more light teasing than anything else. Oh, cigar? "Thank you!" The gun answering to Sasha, she shakes her head to that, but she totally never tried calling it by name. Next time.
Emrys can swim, but the rest of it is a little trickier. The first time he attempts to stand, he's promptly dopped in the drink. The second time, he goes over backwards. It's the third time that's the charm, as he finally succeeds.
Erin remembers Logan. You don't forget a man like that. But she's getting food with Irene, and chatting away like crazy at her.
"Oh, that still works. Kind of." She makes a little finger-gesture. "Reach down, keep it open, or it might as well be like sticking a plastic bag at the end of a fire hose."
Moving on. "What kind of place? Aquaria. When your home gets the frak bombed out of it, well, you kind of re-assess your priorities. Me, I decided to go from awkward to awesome, signed myself up, and became a member of the Wolves' Recon Brigade." Erin starts to load up on fruits again when she's offered a cigar and questioned.
"Hey, Lindus." Beat. "Just stick that thing in my bikini would you? Pick a tit, put it in a cup." The cigar. "And as for a still, well, I found one, right?" Another beat. "But, apparently, there are regulations and things on the ship, and I don't have the authority to just order the lab to let me have a somewhat large still, which I couldn't fit into my footlocker if I wanted to, not with the way the bunk berthings are set up on the Vanguard, right -- it's totally criminal! -- so I guess there's, like, a wrench in the works, but me -- ha, you know -- or maybe you don't -- but I'll figure something out, I'll figure something out." She probably won't.
Abigail lifts a hand, marking Aubrey's study of the group. Long years working water rescue on the bar have given the pair a language of handsignals and body positioning, to help read the state of the water. Just for the right now, things are well. Emrys gets assistance when he needs, of course, but Abigail clearly believes in learning by doing, "Not bad, Hawk. Few more tries and you'll be a natural." A grin, across to Micah, "Just like vacation on Picon."
While Irene and Erin go off to get food, Charlie is happy to procure something to light her cigar from Logan and to settle back down on a towel or blanket by the bonfire and retrieve a new beer. She's getting pretty tired after having surfed all day. No, no, it's time for the sniper to just sit back and watch the party now. Plus cigar.
Logan sighs dramatically at Charlie and murmurs, "Next you're going to tell me that she has TASTE." He says in mock sadness. He grins at Irene, "Always good to have a little bumpkin in you." He says and then laughs, "I don't think you can reproduce someone like her." He says gesturing by cigar at Erin and then tucking the cigar into Erin's cleavage without missing a beat. He sighs, "Well why did you check about authority. There's got to be a loophole." He furrows his brow, "We need to consider this." Suddenly this became a we, "Maybe I can just say it's my workout gear. Probably no one will notice right?" He muses thoughtfully.
Abigail's signals are noted and returned in kind by Aubrey, as she continues to watch and snap an occasional photo.
"There are even people taking pictures of me. Awkward." Micah eyes Aubrey, all the way back on shore. He gives her the universal 'I'm watching you' gesture. The pilot even seems brave enough to risk a glance behind him to Emrys. "We need to make a gentleman's pact to steal the film out of that camera. Only one picture of you in those shorts should be allowed to exist. For humanity."
Irene's eyebrows both go way up and her eyes go round at the description, but she looks more sympathetic than ready to turn green and faint. Hey, it doesn't even seem to ruin her appetite, she keeps trucking straight to the chow, picking up the conversation after she's closed her hand around the cigar and caught the corner of the towel again with the fingertips of the same. "Oh, Recon." It all makes sense. "I know I'm in for a fun trip when you guys get on my bus." Pause, and the pilot turns to look at Logan with a flash of a smile and a thoughtful sounding reply, "I suppose it can be, depending on the bumpkin."
"I'm game for trying." Emrys agrees, as he wobbles on his own board. "But I have no idea how we're going to get it done." He's wobbly, but he's really doing it. "Yes, pictures of me in these shorts should never see the light of day. Nobody who wasn't here needs to see them."
"Lindus. It's a big frakkin' thing." Erin rolls her eyes. "People are going to notice. Important people who're supposed to make sure rules are followed, yeah? One thing 'bout being a trash-picker: you gotta know when you stop before you get caught. So -- " Shrug. " -- I figure, we find someone in the support wing, we can get this thing done. 'Til then?" She draws a finger across her neck. "Idea's dead, man. For now."
"Anyhow -- " Erin's attention goes back to Irene, briefly. " -- yeah. So, I'm from Aquaria. And I know I'm odd, but that's just it -- everyone's a little odd, and just needs to, you know, show it." She seems to be finished. "I'm going to go down this somewhere. Maybe I'll catch you inna bit? Presuming Lindus here doesn't accidentally devour you."
Erin then walks away from the group. Maybe she needs some time to think? Or maybe she knows well enough to avoid other people when she's eating. Best way to protect your food: keep it away from others.
"She has... some taste," Charlie asides to Logan. Cigar in one hand, beer in the other, Wagner settles back comfortably with an eye on the water. Mostly to see the pilots in their fumbling, but also as backup in case things go awry.
"Which you fully invited, so you have no one to blame but yourself, Micah Knoor." Abigail, moving easily, comes around behind the pair to come up on Emrys's side now, watching his technique, "Imagine you're at the range. Put a little more weight on the balls of your feet, leaning into the paddling motion." The trio are still out in the still water, maneuvering around, but not far from the shore. "Whenever you're ready, we can head back."
Logan grins faintly, "Hey we're excellent bus riders. Well most of the time." He says and then he flashes Irene a return grin of amusement. Then he smirks at Erin, "So am I." He sighs, "You've got to be more optimistic. We'll figure it out." He says waving his hand and then he pauses, "Oh... Support wing." He grins, "On it." He says as if he was assigned a mission and those wheel cogs in his brain that really doesn't get used over much start turning. He then sniffs at Erin, "HEY. I'm a very delicate eater." He says brightly and then waves at Erin, "Beware the sausage bandits." He says and surveys the area before asking of Irene, "So do you have any friends in the support wing." He really is a little direct.
Hey, Aubrey's been on her almost best behavior! She didn't even smoke the rest of Micah's cigar on him! Well she didn't, until he does that 'watching you' gesture. Then she relights the cigar and takes a puff, with a 'who me?' gesture. She's gonna be delivering mail forever on the new ship.
Irene waves after Erin, apparently just fine with seeing her again after she gets her chow down in peace or whenever. "Nice to meet you!" She calls after her with a glance at Logan, and an amused snort, "I'll try to keep my hands and feet clear." She'll then make herself up a plate of stuff, find a beer and stroll back to join Charlie and Logan there. "Support wing? I suppose there's Boots. Deck crew. My co-pilot knows a lot of them really well, since he's always bawling them out for not keeping the raptor maintained the way I like it." Saying that, she folds her legs up and lowers herself to the sand near Charlie, to also keep an eye on the paddleboarders out there.
Abigail, begins, once again, to make her way back toward the shore, bringing Micah and Emerys back with her, "Best not to do too much the first time you go out. You'll be surprised how much your arms are going to ache in the morning. No point in so much recreation that you lose the ability to do our job." And once they're back, she settles in to start working on sorting and putting together all of the scattered equipment.
Unlike some, Charlie has been out here way too long to help clean up. She is tired and she might be too worn out to do her job. She'll let some of those lovely menfolk playing Pyramid handle most of the cleanup. When Irene joins her, she scoots over to make some additional room on the blanket and offers over a beer. It's time to largely just chill around the bonfire until it's -- sadly -- time to head back to either their temporary lodgings for a final night or to a first night aboard the new ship. "So," she poses, "folks ready to get back out there?"
"She can't be that fast. And if that fails, I bet we can pay off one of her bunk mates." Micah offers to Emrys during their 'Beach Shore Return Tour'. The pair had paddled about for a while. And honestly? It had started to feel like vacations to the Picon coast in days past. "I... Am not looking forward to that. Why did I let you talk me into this again?" His smile to her is a touch more gentle, then, say, Aubrey would have received. Knoor does seem to have enough sense to make himself useful assisting Abigail in the return of equipment, though. So if a picture were going to be taken? It would be of a Captain doing physical labor.
"Fair point. We might be able to pull this off." Emrys agrees, wincing slightly at the talk of their arms being sore. "I bet we both have CAP tomorrow once we get where we're going, too." He'll help with putting things together. Two Captains doing physical labor.
Aubrey skitters over to hand Abigail Micah's cigar, then finger-waggles before she's off to gather her things and flee before they can kill her for the photos.
"Because when you're at the beach, you enjoy being at the beach. Also, because you looked great out there, and Hawk acquitted himself amiably. A nice showing, for both of you." And then all three of them turn to the task of cleaning, organizing, and eventualyly, making trips to return the equipment. Abigail, for her part, seems to opt for the hotel, slipping on some shorts, and heading that way, pulling a distinctive card from her back pocket.
Logan nods to Irene listening thoughtfully as he grins at her in amusement, "Is that the case? I'll keep that in mind. So go to flight deck and find people arguing with the ECO's most? Got it." He says brightly in clear amusement and then glances around and complains to Charlie, "But I just got here." He says even as he begins to help pitching in for cleaning up. He doesn't seem to mind overly much as he starts sealing things off and clearing out whatever needs such clearing.
Irene bounces over once to get more blanket than sand, accepts the offered beer and raises it to Charlie in thanks. The plate then is set in her lap, and cigar set carefully in the valley where her folded legs meet, shin to calf. "I sure am," She'll answer, "If I can manage to move my arms at all when I wake up tomorrow." There's a nod for Logan too, and helpful clarification, "Just look for the oldest ECO around. That's Wooley. He's a friend to deck crews everywhere."
Micah has had his cigar stolen. "Hawk. I'm going to have to duck out, my friend. I'll see you tomorrow? Probably on CAP? Or the brig, if those damn newspapers hold true to their word." A is offered to all of the other gathered masses as Captain Knoor heads off, still drenched, still sandy, and still lacking nicotine.
"I think it's about that time myself, actually." Hawk agrees with a nod. "Tomorrow it is. On CAP...or in the brig." There's a grin, as he heads off to find his pants so he can get back to base housing.