2237-08-05 - Out With The Old, In With The New

In the Berthings, there's discussion of new tattoos, new haircuts, new bets and a new type of pyramid.

Date: 2237-08-05

Location: Berthings

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 380

Jump to End

Right by the hatch again. Maybe it's a spot Astraea likes or maybe people pay her in favors to take that location which has the most foot traffic. Fortunately, in these newer and smaller bunk rooms, there's a lot less of that. The hatch can also be left closed (or in this case: mostly closed) most of the time. It keeps the noise of the 'hub' out and creates some semblance of privacy. Bunkroom A, save for a pair of marines, is a fairly specific section of Timber Wolf pilots. A younger set who often work as a specific group of wingmates. Well, mostly; one might count Astraea herself as the 'swing' party in the group, since she's often the Raptor pilot working with either Razor and Milkman or Banshee and Jigger these days. Either way, it's a sensical sort of grouping and so far, only a week in, it's working.

With a little while yet to go until she has to sit Alert, the Scorpian is hanging out in her bunk and working in her sketchbook. She's lounging in shorts and dual-tanks; flight suit hanging on the outside of her locker. There's a plate with the remnants of lunch sitting next to her. Apparently she opted to eat alone, outside the mess today.

Coming off CAP involves a well-established ritual for Alain: he strips his flight-suit, heads for the showers, dons his off-duty clothes in a carefully neat way before stopping by the mess for something hot to drink -- bringing that back to the berthings more often than not, now that it's a lot quieter within the smaller bunkrooms. His Ares tattoo is visible, healing nicely, as he steps into the berthings. "Nova," he greets with a quick, tired smile, a couple of steps taken towards his bunk, before he adjusts his path and elects to sit at the table in the center of the room instead, glancing curiously in the raptor pilot's direction. "What're you working on?"

"Jigger," Astraea offers with a look up to the Gemenese pilot. There's a small smile for him; tired, as she's been running swing shifts on Alert, plus her usual CAP. Everyone's got to do it sometimes. There's a look down to her sketchbook and a slight, nervous bounce of the knee it's balanced on. "Well, I started workin' on my own ideas for th' squad tattoo, but then went back to workin' on..." She tilts her head back and forth as she reaches for the sandwich half on the plate next to her. "Been workin' on a design for Apollo. Somethin' different than the Scorpian pieces I have."

Taking a sip from his mug -- it's probably tea, since it doesn't have the scent of coffee -- Alain tips his head. "Thought you and Hallie were working on that together? I guess it's hard, trying to incorporate everything from all the colonies..." he trails off for a moment, before her latter words register, earning a bright smile, "For yourself?" he guesses, at her mention of Apollo.

"We are, but..." Astraea smiles when he mentions incorporating things from all the colonies, nodding. "Right. So we're both workin' on various ideas an' we come together sometimes to discuss what works, what doesn't. We don't have th' time to sit down for twelve hours to hash it all out at once." The busy life of a pilot at war. When he asks about who it's for, she nods finally, glancing to the few items she has in her bunk in dedication to the god. "Yeah. I... keep tryin' to come up with somethin' that's... all-encompassin', but nothin' fits. I think I may just have to go back to th' first thing I came with."

"You mean the Colonel hasn't given you special dispensation, for Timber Wolves' pride?" Alain says with a rueful grin. His gaze flickers to follow her glance towards the items in her bunk, before he asks, "Can I see?" He doesn't move yet, waiting for her assent or otherwise, hand wrapped loosely around his mug of tea.

"Hallie is welcome to ask all she wants," but Astraea isn't going near the Colonel. Not for something non-vital! Nope. Not happening. When Alain asks to see, she does squirm slightly, but doesn't disagree; not immediately. Instead, she finishes off her sandwich and shifts so she can scoot to the edge of the bunk and turn the sketchbook. Most of what she has on the page are just loose sketches so far. A few various stylized suns. A lyre. A number of bow-and-arrow designs. She gives a small shrug, leaning over the book to look down at what she has. "None of it really... fits. I... thought of gettin' a laurel wreath sort of-" she lifts a hand, tracing around the sides of her neck, "here. An' so far that seems most... right."

From the entrance of bunkroom A there's a loud whisper, just one word, "Bingo?" Shortly after Irene leans into view to peer inside. She holds the edge of the archway as she does, so it's just head, one arm and matching shoulder she puts in frame. Seeing people she offers a polite smile before her eyes dance a look around the other bunks, evidently looking for a particular pilot. "Sorry! Have you guys seen Bingo?"

Alain shifts, leaning forward a little from his seat at the table in the midst of the bunkroom so he can better see Astraea's sketchbook. "Hm. I like this sun," he says, pointing out one in particular. "Maybe you just haven't found the thing that represents him to you, yet." He taps fingers briefly on the table, before he says, "There's this book I saw once -- it has all sorts of iconography of the Gods. I might be able to convince my mother to mail it to me, if she can find a copy they'll let go." He straightens, puzzled, at the whispered request for a game. "Uh--" and then he spots Irene, chuckling. "I haven't. Just came off CAP. Here -- what do you think of these, for Apollo?" he asks, gesturing towards Astraea's sketchbook in invitation.

"In th' mess earlier," Astraea answers Irene, with a glance up to the hatch at the other Raptor pilot. When Alain mentions the book that his mother couple mail, she bites at her lip for a moment. "Mebbe she could just get copies of th' pages for Apollo an send those? I wouldn't want her to go through a lot of trouble, but I'd really appreciate it. There's... I mean, it's... hard to put into... tangible things what he means to me." When he asks what Irene thinks, she looks a little flustered, but doesn't shy away from the question. Not completely, at least.

Irene has a funny sense of propriety about certain things, one being to never enter another bunkroom uninvited. She could be a vampire, or it wasn't acceptable in the VRN, or she simply doesn't want to see every single person in the Timberwolves naked (by accident). She ahs softly, makes a note of Bingo's last known whereabouts and slinks in, abandoning the safety of the wall and the common room. "Thank you." She smiles again as she gets close to Astraea's bunk and cranes her neck some to appraise the sketch, "For Apollo? Sure, that looks good. Did you do that yourself?"

"I can certainly ask. She likes to send me things -- I think she thinks it'll make me homesick, and want to come back." Whether that's true or not isn't obvious in Alain's expression; he just kind of smiles fondly as he talks of his mother. He gives an approving nod towards Irene, then adds: "This is Nova's work," with a gesture towards the tattoo of Ares on his upper left arm. It's still a tad red, like it's recently done, though it seems to be healing well.

Bunkroom A will probably end up being a popular place to 'crash' on any festivities due to its location off the hub. It's the fate its occupants must suffer in the long run. Astraea just smiles at Alain when he speaks of his mother and her willingness to send him things. "Well, if you ask, make sure to send my gratitude as well. Dunno what I can offer in exchange, but I'd really appreciate it if she can." She looks back to her sketchbook and the various rough ideas she's etched out for her own design. All of the work she has on her body so far is Scorpian in design; this one will, it'd seem, be different. A more clear-cut iconography versus specifically cultural. "Yeah. I'll... hafta get someone else to do th' tattoo itself, obviously. Probably Ringer," Hallie, "but I wanted to do th' design myself."

Calliope has abandoned all propriety since joining the military. If she had much before. She just wanders about, almost not evening noticing the occasional states of undress in the berhts anymore. Not that she's naked at the moment. She looks like she's recently coming off duty and is still in her jacket, though it's unbuttoned and she has a generally mussed look of one relaxing into non-working sloppiness. She's just in time to catch Alain showing off his tattoo. "Oh! Nice! That is sweet Jigger." She pads closer to peer at it.

It surely is nice work. Irene gives the tattoo a proper look as well, glancing away only when a compliment tickles her ear. "I like it." She smiles, as she tends to do, a lot. She's just a little ray of sunshine packed into Colonial greens. When she straightens, she glances aside at Calliope and offers a proper greeting to the fellow bus driver, "Hi, B- Soundbite. Still not used to your new name yet and I meant to offer, if you wanted, some media training." Might be some gentle teasing there, but she's absolutely tough to read on that count.

Aubrey makes her way in, though recognizing her might take half a second since she chopped her hair short last night. She's in a CF branded tank and shorts, looking freshly showered and well on her way to relaxing for the evening. She gets to her rack, under Jigger's, and half-climbs in to put her little shower caddy away. "Tattoo looks great, Jigs," she comments with a small smile for her wingman.

"Oh, she's happy to share knowledge. Don't think she'd expect anything in return." Plus, questions are awkward. Alain sips from his tea, turning his head to grin at Calliope as she enters. "Thanks, 'bite. Saved the other arm for our Timber Wolves tattoo," he says, as he positions his arm for her to better inspect. "Nova did good work." He grins and gives a nod towards Aubrey as she comes in -- then doubletakes. "Banshee... your hair!" A beat. "I like it."

Feeling a bit overwhelmed in the moment, Astraea sets the sketchbook aside after flipping the cover closed. "I may stick with th' first idea I had. Er, for now-" she looks to Alain, "until y'ask your mother 'bout sending that imagery over. Mebbe it was a spark of inspiration an' all. It'd be fittin'." For Apollo, after all. She tucks the book and the pencil she was using away; the latter into a roll with a bunch of other pencils. Some colored, some not. There's a glance to Aubrey and a small nod. "Bet it'll be a lot more comfortable in your helmet, too."

Calliope lets out a chuckle to Irene. "I am getting used to it, which is the frakked up part. It's almost not mortifying anymore." Almost. She'll probably never stop being a little mortified by Soundbite. Brows loft, at the offer of media training. She is, indeed, unsure whether to take that seriously. "Uh..." Fortunately, there's hair to distract her from having to answer. "Banshee? Whoa. You took off a lot. Jigger's right. It looks good. Totally fierce."

Irene was probably genuinely offering, probably. She nods emphatically at the rest, knowing the pain of a fresh and embarrassing callsign well. With all the attention in the room going towards a certain viper pilot, hers does too. "Wuaaaaah." Irene says, which while not quite a real word, seems apt enough to convey her surprise and tentative approval of Aubrey's new do.

"Thanks, I think I like it too. Decided I needed a change. Sure makes getting showered go a lot faster," Aubrey admits, looking genuinely happy about it. She nods too Astraea. "Yeah, my helmet isn't so tight now," she quips with a small chuckle, "I went a whole CAP without getting a headache from the pressure." She sits on the edge of her rack, sliding on some slippers.

"You mean... you might actually take less time than me to get ready for CAP?" Alain says to Aubrey, with a rueful smile. "Sounds almost like a bet, there, Banshee." Settling back onto the bench in the middle of the bunkroom, he lifts his mug to his lips, taking a small sip. "I'll send her a request tomorrow," Jigger says with a glance at Astraea and a brief smile.

"That," Astraea says of shorter prep for CAP, "is a bet I, myself, would never take. Not unless I shaved my head." Which is a thought that makes her shudder. She picks up her plate and pushes herself away from her bunk, leaning towards the center table to drop the plate onto it. It'll make it back to the mess eventually. She has already prepped her hair for fitting into a helmet, however, into the usual tight braids. She looks to her flight suit; considering climbing in now for her eventual round of sitting in the Alert Lounge. There is a look to Jigger with a nod. "I look forward to hearin' back. It'd be neat to see what sorta imagery an' all this book has."

Calliope idly reaches up to toy with her blonde locks, which are in that shoulder-length state of neither long nor short. "I've been thinking of chopping mine off. But I kind of like being able to do different things with it. Even if, yeah, the helmet does make it super gross." It's currently in a stringy, sweaty, post-ponytail state. "Also, I don't know if I really have the face for a full-on pixie. You can work it, Aubrey." Her head tilts at Astraea and Jigger. "Are you guys putting together, like, a scrap book or something?"

Irene tucks her hair behind her ear, possibly giving a thought of chopping it still shorter, but she doesn't rush off to the shipboard barber. Not yet, anyway. With the conversation bouncing, her attention wanders with it, her expression a congenial arrangement with a neutral smile, and brows both nudged up, denoting her interest. She's not completely tuned out by any means. There's a bit of a laugh at the bet as she stares a moment at Alain's hair, trying to gauge daily prep time on that style, probably.

Aubrey gives a little laugh at Jigger's comment. "Listen to Nova, Jigs. Are you sure you want to take that bet? Even WITH the long hair I took less time to get ready than Hawk does." Emrys and that hair product, though. Noticeably, she's also wearing less makeup. She looks more fresh-faced and natural than the heavily made up and styled Bree of yesterday. She grins at Calliope. "I kept it long because the industry wanted it that way, but I'm not in the industry anymore. And I figured, what the hell, I can do what I want with my hair now." She shrugs. "Plus at the end of the day, it's just hair. It grows back."

With a shake of his head, Alain answers Calliope, "Just some ideas for Astraea for an Apollo tattoo. Though -- a scrapbook is an interesting idea. Help people pick different tattoo designs and things. Maybe I'll see if she can send me the full book. I'm sure other people'd be interested in some of the other designs, if nothing else." With a rueful grin, Jigger says: "Hawk's an old men. They have their habits. Pretty sure I can win this one," says Jigger every time before he loses, anyway. He twists from his position seated at the table in the middle, to offer a hand to Aubrey as if offering the bet: "Loser swaps for the next swing-shift CAP."

"Oh, no-" Astraea lifts a hand as Aubrey drags her into the betting. "I mean, I'd never take th' bet 'cause I know I take too long. I think mebbe Jigger could pull it off." She squints at him for a moment "Can't say I've ever seen him take a while on his hair. Not nearly like Hawk does. Though-" She looks to Aubrey, "Dunno what your new hair routine is like." She shrugs, "Could be a toss-up, but!" As Alain gives in to the bet, she sits back down on her bunk, asides to Calliope: "Workin' on my own tattoo." Then it's back to the wingmates: "You oughta set rules. Like, it's gotta be on a full shower an' haircare routine day. One of you can't be on a full routine an' th' other on a skip day. That'd be cheatin'."

Logan is apparently hanging around in the crew lounge bouncing a Pyramid ball when he catches wind of the conversation. He peeks his head in curiously and offers brightly, "I can do someone's hair." He says inviting himself to the conversation because... it's what he does. Given his short hair though it seems unlikely that he's useful at it. The sound of the pyramid ball bouncing off the outer bulkhead is a steady constant.

"Hey, if you want to slay toasters, you better come correct," Calliope quips, in defense of pre-CAP grooming exercises. "Ugh. I meant to get some ink done on Scorpia. I was going to get Priya to do it but..." She winces. "...kind of lost track of...stuff. I still want a bullseye some place, even if it's not my name anymore. Got to preserve history." The sound of a bouncing ball, and Logan's voice, makes her turn her head. She looks skeptical. "Will it look like...that?" His short cut is gestured to.

"I'll... time you guys." Irene gamely offers, apparently knowing her limitations in that department and not wanting to switch up her shifts. Otherwise, she's in quiet, fly on the wall mode. At least until Logan sounds off. She turns on the big Marine and slides his way, brow up as if his hair styling talents might be suspect. "What's wrong with his hair?" She asks, sounding almost protective, as she goes up on tip toes to eye said cut for signs of a self-grooming tragedy that she can maybe fix. "It looks good!"

Aubrey shakes Alain's hand with a wry smile. "Deal. I'm going to enjoy the extra sleep," she quips. She grins at Astraea, "I'm pretty sure Jigger irons his socks and underwear before he puts them on. Have you ever seen him with an improper crease in his uniform?" She chuckles at Logan. "Can't be worse than Busker. He did the primary chopping and I had the ship's barber clean it up after."

Alain gives Calliope a grin at her quip. "Puts you in the right mood," he agrees. "No short-cuts," he adds to Aubrey after Astraea's suggestion. As Irene offers to time, he grins and wiggles a finger at her, approvingly: "Bet arbiter," he says, before he beams at Banshee. "You mean I'm going to enjoy the extra sleep." Banshee receives a faux-hurt look at her observation. "Just because I like to cut a neat figure..." he gives a nod to marine as he appears at the door of the bunkroom.

"I'm pretty sure," Astraea responds to Aubrey, "that Jigger's like Razor an' does all his ironin' early in th' week. I mean, that'd be th' smart way of it. Get it all done on laundry day." She seems fairly bemused by it all, at least. The woman does grab at her flight suit, finally, starting to tug it on. "But, speakin' of gettin' ready, I probably should head down for Alert soon. Just in case somethin' happens." She glances to Calliope. "Iff'n you don't, uh, manage to find time with Sweetheart for that tattoo, I'd be happy to help ya out, too."

Logan grins at Calliope, "Maybe. Depends. I can probably do something else. But doesn't it look great?" He asks gesturing at his cropped hair. That easy grin flicks to Irene as he nods, "See." He gestures indicating her agreement. Alain gets a nod and then he shifts and tosses a Pyramid ball in Alain's direction. Because well he nodded and that's what you do when someone nods and then he's nodding to Aubrey, "Exactly, 'Can't be worse' - Just the bar I like to set."

Calliope eyes Alain's feet. Perhaps looking for signs of ironed socks. "Whenever this goes down, totally let me know," she says, of the bet. "I want to watch." On a warship, you take what entertainment you can get. Even grooming races. A quick grin to Astraea. "That might be, uh, better. Depending on how things work out. I'll let it lie for awhile, but I'll keep the offer in mind. Thanks, Nova." She offers a little two-fingered salute to the room that turns into a finger-waggling wave, then wanders off toward her own bunk.

<FS3> Alain rolls Athletics-2: Success (8 4 2)

"Does everyone on board have tattoos?" Irene wonders, half concerned, maybe for being the square with none. Standing closest to Logan now, she checks his arms for obvious ink. "Don't they hurt?" More concern there and a peer over at Aubrey for signs of tattoo-age.

"This will be fun," Aubrey agrees with a bright smile. She shakes her head at Irene. "Not me. Not yet anyway. Might get one sooner or later. Again, industry preferred you didn't have them. They had to edit them out of images most of the time. But since I'm not going back to modeling after this, I think I'm clear to get one. I think they're working on a Wolves one, right?" She looks to Nova for confirmation of that.

Despite the fact Alain is burdened with a mug of tea in his hands, and his socks are being oggled, he somehow manages to catch that pyramid ball. Clearly he was not expecting it to be thrown at him, but he gets away with only spilling a splash of tea on the table as he fumbles a successful catch. He doesn't lob it back towards Logan, however, instead setting it down while he gets up to find a hand towel to soak up the spill on the table. "Wait... this isn't a spectator sport, 'bite," he starts to protest, perhaps a little too late as the raptor pilot departs.

"Razor doesn't have any tattoos," Astraea offers, consoling, to Irene. "An' doesn't plan to, either. I think there's others." She holds out her arms, briefly, once she's got her flight suit up to her waist. "I'm Scorpian, so I don't really count." It's a cultural thing for them. For Aubrey's question, she nods. "Ringer an' I are, yeah. It's takin' a while 'cause we wanna integrate everyone's colony into it somehow. We're gonna get patches made, too, so folks who don't want tattoos don't gotta get 'em, but can still be involved." She notes Alain's protest as she works herself the rest of the way into her flight suit and giggles a bit.

Logan looks amused as Irene inspects his arm and he presents both forearms out for review. He's apparently at least not visibly tattooed. No doubt going for that wholesome role model image. He blinks as Alain catches the ball but there's splashing tea. "Sorry about that." He looks a little sheepish apparently the ball lobbing is second nature and he holds a hand up but he shrugs then glances to Aubrey, "Just got to be particular about the spot. I suggest somewhere no one will look, you know like the forehead." He says mischievously and then looks appreciatively towards Astraea, "That sounds pretty awesome."

Irene snorts out a tiny laugh about the forehead tattoo and after a time holds out her arms as Logan is, like to show off her own super pumped muscles (they aren't really). "Razor's too straight for tattoos." She nods solemnly, but it's not a condemning tone she takes about it, just statement of fact. That boy is super straight. "I don't feel so bad then. If I got one I think my grandmother would take the offending appendage off. So I'm not sure I want to risk it. Having no arm will really mess up my balance."

"Pretty sure you made it a spectator sport the minute you brought it up publically, Jigger," Aubrey points out with a chuckle. At Logan's comment about where no one will look, she plucks the pyramid ball off the table and chucks it at him with a smirk. "I knew that wholesome boy-next-store thing was all theater!" she laughs.

"Not really a big Pyramid player," Alain explains to Logan wryly, with an easy acceptance of his words -- as he steps back to soak up the tea. "Heard there's a court, though. I might come and watch sometime." Only once the table is clean to his satisfaction does the pilot seat himself again. "Frak," he mutters at Aubrey's words. "Well, I guess they'll all be staring at you, anyway, Banshee." Her being the model, presumably. "This was my first," he adds, to the subject of tattoos, gesturing to his arm, "But I'm looking forward to seeing what they come up with for the squadron tattoo."

"We're hopin' it is," Astraea notes to Logan, nodding. "It's just takin' time, gettin' everyone represented an' all." There's a shrug to Irene, "I'll win Razor over eventually." A pause, as she sits to start tugging on her boots. There's a slight flush across her cheeks. "...for th' tattoo, I mean," she finishes in a rush. "Been, uh, tryin' to talk him into gettin' th' squad tattoo once it's ready. Y'know, for solidarity an' all." She takes a deep breath and leans over, focusing on her lacing.

Logan lets one hand nab the pyramid ball and then rolls it along his arm before trapping it. He grins at Aubrey, "For theatre? My whole life is theatre. Besides what about me indicates anything I say should be taken seriously?" He grins at Irene nodding solemnly at the inspection of her arms and then he's passing the Pyramid ball to her in a light arc, "True facts. Gotta be careful of those bone saw wielding gran mamas." He says brightlya nd then he nods repeatedly to Alain about the court, "Yeah I haven't broken it in yet. But once Tavo's a little better healed I'm sure we'll get things organized properly. Looking forward to see how big a team we can field on the courts."

Irene catches the pass and promptly underhands the ball right up to the ceiling in a tight spin before catching it again. "True facts." She agrees, repeating the toss up before bringing the ball up to her shoulder for a pass. Maybe not Alain, but she checks the others for indications; no throwing stuff at them while they're tying laces or otherwise distracted. "My grandmother is no joke, but if it's a squadron tattoo... and not huge and obvious like on my forehead. I'm curious to see the design."

Aubrey shakes her head. "I'll come watch, but the only game I'm any good at is Triad," she confesses. She waves off any potential passes to her as she settles into a chair at the table and props her feet up on another chair.

Alain definitely doesn't look ready to make another fumbled attempt at a catch -- he's just neatened everything up on the table and is taking another sip of his tea. "Presumably there's beer and food, so, I'm there too," to watch, presumably, given he nods his head towards Aubrey by way of agreement. Astraea's awkwardness is perhaps noted, given Jigger glances her way with a fleeting smile. "Want me to bring you down some tea later, Nova?" Alert can be dull!

"I used to play Pyramid with my brothers in th' alley," Astraea offers, "but... I'd prob'ly just be trampled by y'all." Considering the... considerable height difference between herself and the likes of Logan and Gustavo. "So mebbe I should just watch, too." She finishes getting her boots on and straightens, grabbing a book from within her bunk. For Alain's offer, she gives a small smile in return. "I'd appreciate that. The coffee down there's been terrible this week." The book is tucked under her arm and a nod to the others, "Have fun."

Logan shrugs at Astraea, "We'll mix up the teams and there's a way to get everyone involved. Accuracy's just as useful as tackling. There's also some suggestions that I have to coach instead of playing. So we'll see. Unless there's an exhibition game or something." He assures her brightly. He grins watching Irene toss the ball up, "Show off." He teases lightly and then nods, "I'm sure beer and food can be managed. I need to make friends with someone on the deck crew to figure out the still situation." He admits and then looks to Aubrey, "What about when we figure out how to set up water Pyramid?"

"Pyramid isn't too hard. If you're not playing professionals." Irene grins across at Aubrey, putting the addendum on there for the former Thresher's benefit, clearly. She fake passes to the lieutenant but not with enough enthusiasm to make it startlingly possible she is actually going to bean him. Instead, she brings her arm down, does a little half spin and promptly hands the ball back off to Logan by trying to jam it firmly back into his spine through his bellybutton. Perhaps from her own experience playing pyramid with siblings, she knows enough to run for it after that, booking it for the common area and if Astraea is heading that way, she'll use her for cover. "Are you on taxi duty? I'll see you later, if you are."

"I'm going to miss real coffee again," Aubrey sighs forlornly. "I got used to real coffee again on shoreleave," she grumbles, crossing her feet at the ankles, and her arms over her chest. She blinks over at Logan. "Water pyramid? What in the 12 colonies is that?"

Alain very nearly says, 'You too', to Astraea before catching himself. That's definitely a curse to say it to someone on Alert. "Hope it's boring," he replies, with a rueful smile. "Water pyramid?" his brow furrows, working through the logistics of something like that in his head. "Should've stocked up while we were there," he grins to Aubrey, "Or made a bet for it at least. Instead, you wasted it on a plushie." Irene's departure is so expertly enacted he nearly misses it, a brief lift of hand by way of farewell as she disappears out the door with Astraea.

"I might be able to manage accuracy," Astraea chimes in as she aims for the door; used as cover or not. "Not taxi duty," she answers Irene. "Just alert. There as back up if somethin' happens to those on CAP." Which means there might be excitement, or she might just sit on her ass half the night. The woman is almost out of there before she overhears Alain speak of a missed bet. Or a possible one. So she grabs at the hatch and leans back in. "Jigs- you think of somethin'. I'm all about a bet if there's real coffee involved." And then she's out and heading for the deck.

Logan makes an exaggerated 'oof' as he doubles down around the ball. It isn't as if his torso actually moves other than him leaning forward. He grunts at Irene, "Careful there!" He then grins at Alain, "Yeah there was thought of they need surfing practice areas. And we discussed that if there was a pool we could figure out how to play pyramid in it." He says solemnly. There's a pause, "I'm pretty sure the idea is mostly that there needs to be Pyramid players in bikini's though." He declares helpfully as he waves at those departing and considers moving along himself.

Aubrey gets up and grabs said plushie from her bunk and hugs it to her. "I love my plushie! His name is Mister Bitey!" she declares. She waves to the departing pilots with her free hand.

"Well, I'll try of fly into something dangerous." Irene helpfully promises, so the other pilot won't have to sit on her butt the entire shift. She fires off a casual salute to those remaining behind in bunkroom A, "If you get the water pyramid figured out, I'm there. I will drowned you, Lindus!" Somehow she makes that sound like a good thing, maybe it's the brilliant smile after. Either way, she's out and back to her original mission: find that Bingo.

At Astraea's parting words, Jigger's brows flicker upwards. "Sounds like there's a promising future for an enterprising young pilot to get himself sent some real coffee from somewhere." Maybe said young pilot means him, maybe not -- either way he's grinning as he goes to sip her tea. When Aubrey stands, he stretches legs under the table to shift away that chair she was using as a footrest -- just far enough to make it unreachable. "Bet you wouldn't be so fond of him when he shows up in the actual water. But, at least the pool is safe. Pity we couldn't figure out a way to turn the pool into a surf pool," he adds thoughtfully at Logan's explanation. "Perfect for beginners like me."

Logan grins after Irene, "Looking forward to it." He pauses and he blinks as Aubrey waves a plushie, "Huh. That... makes sense. I bet Banshee hums shark songs when she dives." He opines to Alain andthen grins faintly, "Sure why not everyone will be new to it. That's the benefit of Pyramid you can always figure out a way to play it. Though I'm pretty sure if there was a pool deep enough for me everyone else would have to swim. So might be abit of an advantage or a real deep pool." He admits ruefully

"I'm just glad to have a pool at all. I prefer doing laps in that than the treadmill any day," Aubrey states. She moves back to her chair and flails a foot out trying to reach the former footrest. She glares at Alain, because no one else is near enough to have moved it. She makes those shark noises now "Duh Dun. Duh Dun."

There's a brief cough from Alain, as he says to Logan, "Well, I was meaning more for the surfing, rather than... whatever water pyramid is. Already know I'm going to be terrible at that and would rather it's a purely spectator sport for me." He affects innocence when Aubrey glares at him, looking baffled, until he grins briefly. "If you call a fake shark next time we go surfing, Banshee, I will kill you."

Logan points out, "If Banshee's in the water it's a real shark." He says brightly indicating her and the noises with amusement, "Pools are fun but well I'll see how deep it is." He waves a hand at Alain, "Only one way to find out how good you are at it."

"Before or after it bites your legs off?" Aubrey quips. She loves freaking out the non-Picons with the threat of sharks. Then she lets him off the hook, ruffling his hair with a hand. "Well let me know what you figure out, Logan."

"After. Definitely after." Speaking of killing, she messed with his hair. Alain gives Aubrey a look, rises, and steps out of reach, smoothing his hair back down into place. "I'd like to keep some dignity," he adds to Logan, kind of wryly, "As hard as that may be in this ship."

Logan flashes a thumbs up to Aubrey, "Always do." He says easily and then considers to offer to Alain, "You want dignity. Hmm. Yeah that is a difficulty." He shrugs his wide shoulders, "I abandoned that long ago thankfully. If I find some I'll let you know?"

"I do my best to give Jigger a dignity check, at least once a day. Keeps him on his toes," Aubrey announces to Logan, with a cheery smile. Then the smile warms. "Just kidding, Alain. You know I adore you."

"That she does," Alain admits, while apparently giving up on any more fixing of his hair. To Logan: "See what my life is? Dignity sorely required." He leans over the table to collect his mug. "Just not enough to let me win a bet," he adds to Aubrey, chuckling.

Logan nods sagely to Alain, "It does seem a rough life." HE says in a tone that seems like it should be sympathetic but really isn't. He grins, "Sounds like you just need more bets. Anyways. I should go break in the court." He waves a large hand, "You two have fun. Don't tarnish too much dignity."

Aubrey chuckles. "You're the one who keeps making them. Not my fault you also keep losing them," she points out with a grin. She hugs her plushie shark in her lap, looking up at the ceiling and pondering. "Sometimes I think you're losing on purpose. Is that the Viper pilot equivalent of pulling a girl's pigtails on the playground?" She gives Logan a farewell nod. "Have fun, Lindus."

"Not much chance of that," Alain murmurs, though he does it loud enough to be overheard, laughing. "Hey, my honor is on the line. I would never lose on purpose." He sounds indicate enough, but who knows.

Aubrey rolls her head to the side to look at Alain. "So, got your tattoo finally, hm?" she asks curiously.

"One of two," Alain confirms, as he turns sidelong so she can see. "Still have to wrap it up in the shower -- that doesn't count for the bet, by the way," he hastily amends, "But should be good in another week or so."

Aubrey looks it over appreciatively. "It's a really nice design. Nova has talent." She smiles a little. "Does she still hate me?" she asks.

"She does," Alain agrees with a genuine smile. "I think she's... adjusting. I know she's trying. Give it time." Alain glances at their respective bunks. "I imagine living in close quarters will help." He, at least, seems to think it's a positive thing.

"Maybe. I don't have anything against her. Not anymore." Aubrey stands up and stretches. "I think I'm going to go for a walk up to the Observation Deck and relax for a bit."

There's a moment's pause, before Alain says, "I'm glad." And after a beat, "I've got to go hit the mess hall, grab something to eat. Want me to bring something?" Jigger offers. "Can't promise any real coffee, though."

"Get me some tea?" Aubrey requests. "And maybe an apple if they have any. I'd ask for cookies, but I think those can double for meteorites." She winks, and heads out.


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