A gathering of Timber Wolves for a casual night out in a local Cap City bar goes awry when a drunk civilian gets a bit too handsy with Irene. Tensions between colonies boil over into a fight in the streets that no one will admit to in the morning... right?
Location: Cap City Bar
Related Scenes: None
Scene Number: 495
Gage's version of 'casual' isn't too far from military off-duty anyway -- a pair of khakis, a t-shirt in the Tauron colors with a reference to a non-Pyramid spots team. It's by no means coincidental, since they're heading out to a Caprican bar. The group head off from the base, taking a taxi to the city central district. While Gage seems to be leading, it isn't clear what his criteria for an acceptable place for drinks is -- at least not until he stops in front of an older looking bar, all wood and dark colors, not packed enough to be prohibitive but plenty of other people inside. "This," he declares, with a sudden, brief grin.
For all that Sarita, on-duty, is very professional in her naval blues and lab coat... she is a whole other matter off-duty. She's wearing jeans, yes, and a blousey black top, but over that an elaborately embroidered jacket. It's black at the base, with mostly gold thread for the embroidery and hints of red. Very Canceronian in design, overall. It's also revealed, in her civvies, that she has a lot of piercings. She keeps retainers in them on-duty, but off? A number in her ears, a couple in her nose, and even a small one just resting in the bow of her upper lip. It's gotten a few glances because despite it being Caprica City, it's the sort of thing usually seen on teenagers; not women over the age of thirty. Culture clash.
"I hope you at least have good taste in beer, Tomak," the surgeon offers in an even, but faintly amused tone. Teasing, perhaps, for the choice of bar itself perhaps.
"Frak no. I'll drink anything," Gage admits with a low-throated chuckle. "But I'll let you pick the first round, since I'm buying." He grunts, but doesn't seem otherwise too bothered for the dig at his choice of bar -- it's deliberate after all. "Had to pick one without a metal detector, or they wouldn't let us in," he retorts, with a snort. Pushing inside, it's dimmer, taking a moment for eyes to adjust -- though the path to the bar is clear, the marine leading the way in that direction. "Just tell me you don't drink some obscure craft beer or some shit."
Most people given half a chance want to wear civvies. The rare opportunity to be one's self -- who wouldn't?
Ines, apparently. She didn't arrive with the complement of cabbed-in soldiers: she's already here, sitting at the bar with a glass of something amber with a single chunk of ice in it, for the most part untouched. There's a book splayed open on the bar in front of her, and nobody seems to have attempted to join her...which may have something to do with the fact that she never bothered to change out of her duty greens.
It's that Caprican accent that draws her eyes up from her reading, and when she spots Sarita she brightens, waves.
Most people given half a chance want to wear civvies. The rare opportunity to be one's self -- who wouldn't?
Ines, apparently. She didn't arrive with the complement of cabbed-in soldiers: she's already here, sitting at the bar with a glass of something amber with a single chunk of ice in it, for the most part untouched. There's a book splayed open on the bar in front of her, and nobody seems to have attempted to join her...which may have something to do with the fact that she never bothered to change out of her duty greens.
It's that Canceron accent that draws her eyes up from her reading, and when she spots Sarita she brightens, waves.
There's a wry smirk at the return jab. "True enough. And you haven't seen what I have underneath, either. It'd take far too long for a pat-down." Sarita leaves the demolitionist with that as she follows into the bar proper, blinking a few times to adjust to the change in lighting. Lifting a hand to push back some errant bits of dark hair, she laughs brightly. "There is nothing wrong with some craft beers. But they are not all I drink." Passing Gage to aim towards the bar, she shifts her gaze to the taps on display; gaze sliding over them in turn. "Ah! That one, the Libran Triple-X at the end there. That's a good stout. We should begin with that." It does bring Ines' wave into view and she lifts her hand to return the gesture.
Gage gives the doc a brow-raised smirk, adding, "Well, maybe at the next bar." While the pilot at the bar is unfamiliar to Gage, the fact that she's wearing a CF uniform is enough to draw his gaze, chuckling. "I'm not the only one with a terrifically bad taste in bars," he mutters, not-so-quietly, as they reach the bar. He gives Ines a nod, glancing at Sarita for a moment. "Invite your friend to join. She looks like she has better taste in drinks than you do," after a squint at Ines' glass and a grimace at Sarita's choice of beers. He leans on the bar, lifting a hand to try and get the attention of the bartender down the far side. He's not a girl in a pretty dress, however, so he's clearly at the bottom of the list.
Ines hasn't got a pretty dress to commit to the cause, but she has excellent hearing. With her taste in watering holes on the line, she hoists her shoulders in a shrug, and dons a lazy half-smile, eyes lidding. "It was open early. And close to the bookstore." She flips the book in front of her closed, though she doesn't abandon her stool yet. Dropping herself into the middle of a one-man-one-woman outing seems like a risky gamble on everybody's goodwill.
Grey-green eyes wander over the elaborate embroidery on Sarita's jacket with an echo of the interest in fashion she used to have. "I like your coat."
"Uh-huh. I imagine any bar with a metal detector is going to only have craft beers and experimental cocktals." Sarita leans up against the bar as well, lifting a hand to try the summoning spell herself. She's a touch more successful. Largely because it's a waitress that makes a sharp beeline towards her-
"Ohmygawds, Amrita Singh?! In our bar?! Is this for a movie? Are they filming on Caprica now? My friends and I just love your-"
Sarita looks completely and entirely pained, lifting a hand to cut the poor girl off. "That's my sister," she says in a flat tone. And to the supreme disappointment of the waitress, she points at the tap: "Can we get two of the stout, please?" As the girl sulks off, she leans back on her heels, glancing Ines' way. "Thank you. Want to join us? Even if Tomak here hates dark beers for some unknown reason."
Off duty and out of uniform, Irene shucks off all vestiges of the military persona with ease. She strolls into the bar looking as civilian as humanly possible. No duty greens for her today, instead a contour hugging, sleeveless sheath dress with a neck to hem pink peonie print and strappy white heels. Gage might recognize the sunglasses, neon pink framed and yellow-silver mirrored, their cheapness contrasting with the obvious expense of the rest of her outfit. Those, and the fabric tote bag hanging off her shoulder were both Argentum Bay purchases she's pressed back into service for a Caprica City shopping spree. As she breezes into the bar, she pauses to lift the sunglasses up to rest them in her hair, tucks the strands behind her ear and all the while checks out the lay of the land. It seems a pleasant surprise that she spots familiar faces, since she smiles brightly and moves their way. "Tomak, Kestrel and the doctor with the famous twin sister, Sarita." She remembers aloud, "What a wonderful coincidence."
Grinning to Ines, Gage observes, "This place looked like it had cheap beers, and I owed the doc one," he jerks a thumb towards Sarita. Thankfully, he says it before the waitress nears, instead grumbling: "I hate Libran beers, there's a difference. But I'll still drink 'em," the marine admits, blandly. When the waitress makes a big deal about Sarita, his eyes widen. "Shit. Is every frakking member of the CF these days a movie star, a pyramid star, or a model?" Reaching into his wallet, he pulls out a few cubits for the beers. "Might as well make it three," he adds. It'd be hard to miss Irene's arrival -- what with those glasses -- and with a grimace, the marine self-corrects, "Make that four," as he reaches to pull out his wallet again. "Harris," he greets, as he recovers from the damage to his wallet. "I see you've purged Caprica of all its touristy items?" he suggests, eyeing her bags.
You probably get pretty tired of that, Ines had said in apology, after mistaking Sarita for her starlet sister. She watches it happen all over again, brows creased with sympathy, the corners of her mouth turned down to (insufficiently) suppress the mirth that accompanies it.
Formally invited, she finally slides from her stool and closes the gap, pushing up onto the toes of one foot to settle in a half-seated position on the stool next to Sarita's, book and glass slid along with her. The name Tomak rings a bell, but for the time being she can't remember why, and only tchs in good humor. "Why? No chocolate stout? Scandal. But no. I'm a nobody, so not everyone. Only most?"
And then the bell dings, and she turns her head to see Irene, whose chic attire sends both of her brows upward. "Irene," she greets, and her accent makes something strangely exotic of the sound of it. "Are you going somewhere very nice?"
"I don't see any other stout on tap and I like them," Sarita counters to Gage's complaint. "Tell you what. Drink this one with me and you can introduce me to whatever Tauran beers you want, yes?" She brushes the embroidered coat she wears behind her as she settles on her stool, hooking a toe against the lower run. As for being a movie star: "I'm not. My sister is. I'm not a model or pyramid star, either. I'm actually quite terrible at pyramid." She turns to look back at Irene, snorting faintly at the greeting she's received from the Raptor pilot. There's a nod to one of the other bar stools before she hesitates. "Should we perhaps consider getting a table?"
Irene's tote bag is practically bulging and the straps are digging a decent groove into her shoulder, so, yes, she's probably single handedly kept the tourist economy going here for another day or two. When she reaches the bar, she neatly twists in and settles it there, allowing her to extricate her arm and free herself of the burden. "Every last one. I'm going to have to mail most of it home before we get back on the ship. My locker is full up." She answers Gage first, smiling and talking sweetly to him, as if he's not a big old grumpyguts tough Marine man. Ines then, with more smiles, "Shopping, mostly. Captain Princess mentioned wanting to go to a fancy wine place too, so. I didn't want to look all scrubby for that, it's her birthday." The last part is stage whispered like it's a very poorly kept secret and she kind of lingers there, given Sarita's question of a table. With that in the air, she doesn't sit just yet.
Gage lifts the beer he's presented with, inspecting the bottle as if it might surprise him in some fashion or other. Ines receives a snap of fingers and a pleased grin from the marine at her admission she's a nobody. "Me too," he adds, with a lift of his beer in silent salute, taking a generous gulp of the contents. His grimace at the taste is probably over-dramaticized, since he takes another gulp soon thereafter. "Tomak," he offers with a nod towards Ines, even if Irene has done by-accident introductions already. "Aint seen you around before, fresh blood?" Both of Sarita's suggestions are taken with an agreeable nod as he straightens from his leaning on the bar. "Locker above mine is free," Gage says to Irene. "Dump whatever crap you like in there, as long as it's out of sight."
It's only a few moments longer before there's a second woman that trails in behind Irene. And like the atomic blonde, the brunette ECO is dressed to hunt. Wearing a crimson colored sleevless V-neck dress that hugs her in bandage style to her knees, with a pair of black pumps and a pair of hoop earrings, Paige's own more expensive sunglasses are perched on her head as she has her own canvas tote bags she's carrying as she grins and gives Irene's shoulder a bump. "I already contacted papa, he said that we can use his service for any shipments to get home." she offers cheerfully, before smiling warmly to the group. Nothing like a little shopping therapy to clear up her gloomy mood. "Tomak, Kestrel, Doctor." she greets in turn. "What'd you order, Iris?" she asks curiously.
It takes Ines a moment to locate and lift her glass for a toast to being nobodies, but she does, and the sip she takes is small enough to suggest the ice hasn't cut the contents much. This, while she listens to Irene, and perks a brow again over the it's-Paige's-birthday news. "Ah?"
And then the woman in question arrives, and Ines, glancing that way to find Paige also looking markedly glamorous, breaks into a laugh that's all warm shadows. "It wasn't enough to win the games yesterday, hm? Going to break a few more Caprican hearts before we go?"
She drops off of her stool in preparation to join a table, and under the rest of the conversation sottos for Gage as she collects her things, "Yes. Brand new. Ines Correa. It's nice to meet--" Pause. "Ah!" She snaps her fingers, smiles suddenly. "I think we're in the same bunkroom. Bunk...stack? Or will be? I couldn't remember."
"Table it is then," Sarita agrees as she pushes to her feet, lifting her own stout for a solid drink off the top. Thick, strong, and 'put hair on your chest' worthy. She casts a look over the bar before identifying a table towards the back. There's a hand to Gage's arm to make sure he spots it too before she starts angling off that way, weaving through the other people that occupy the place. There's a pool table not far from the table, in case they find themselves wishing to play. She sets her beer down once at the table and slides out of her embroidered jacket. It's draped over the back of a chair that she lands her ass in shortly after.
"Thanks, Tomak! And not a thing, yet, mum. What's the best Caprican beer?" Irene says, cheerful as anything, before leaning in to unabashedly look at the beers the others already have in hand. She goes as far as threatening to put her nose right in Gage's, goofing on him, even if she does it with an expression of completely blank innocence. It's like she's an actress or something. She's just that good. She pops back up straight before she can get bopped in on the beak or worse, slips her hand through the straps of her tote and slides it off the bar. It swings hard and heavy so she has to step off and shore up her grip with her other hand so it doesn't drop to the floor, or slam into anything or anybody before she's got it under control again. "You're in C too?" She asks Ines, brow up, curious.
"Oh. You're taking the bunk above mine?" Gage's expression hovers between reluctance and resignation, apparently settling on the latter. "Better not snore," is his oh-so-welcoming speech to Ines. "Bad enough Harris and Zeller play the 'Are you awake yet?!' game every other day." He straightens, collecting the two extra beers, following Sarita towards a table, side-eyeing Paige and giving her a nod by way of greeting, too. They get a few looks as they progress, for various reasons, the marine meeting the gaze of everyone who looks their way before he slumps into a chair, setting his beer down. Irene's fascination with his beer earns a grunt, and he shoves it her way by way of presumably, offer, pulling one of the extra beers towards himself, with a grin.
"There's this beer that they make on one of the botanical ships - you know, grow the hops, barley all that there.. supposedly, it's the best, but it is pretty pricey. I've always been a wine girl myself." Paige admits, though she gets a little frown. "Not sure what they have here in the way of wines, though." she taps one well-manicured fingernail to her lip in thought. "But.." she waves over a waitress. "..do you have any of the Caprican Ambassador Reserve?" comes the question. It takes a few moments for the waitress to come back and give her an affirmative. "Round for the table then, please." This brings an arch of a brow, and Paige opens her purse to take out her wallet to pre-pay. There is still some credit left to her accounts, after all. And there isn't a reason to sit on it.
"Mmhm." Ines answers Irene's question with a quick smile, edges softened by something almost self-conscious. "I asked if they could put me in a very full one, if it was possible." Short pause, then a shrug. "I like to be around people." Then, realizing: "Are you also there?"
At the table she sets her things down, book then glass, sliding into a chair. She could probably stand to look a little more sorry about ruining Gage's day; she makes an effort, but it's handily undermined by the way she's very obviously trying not to laugh. "If I snore you can kick the bottom of the bunk."
And then Paige is ordering a round for the table, and her mouth opens, closes. She turns her eyes down to look into her mostly-intact glass of whiskey. Mistakes: this is how they are made. But what she says is, "Thanks, Paige."
"For a man who doesn't like Libran beer, you seem ready to drink a lot of it," Sarita points out to Gage in a low tone, an easy smile pulling at her lips. Under the low lights of the old bar, the numerous piercings she wears glint and glimmer from time to time. She does flash surprise in Paige's direction at the rather expensive drink that is available. "Maybe," she notes to the marine, "this place is better than you thought." She lifts her own drink to down more of it. "But I won't turn down drinks. I wanted to get my fill before we found ourselves on the Dauntless and Zeus knows how long until I could get another decent drink."
Oh, this day is most excellently unfolding. Irene picks up the beer shoved her way once she's at the table and seated of course. She does that after smiling appreciation to Paige, at the other free beer. She'll be set! "I'm in C, Tomak is in C, Bingo Zeller is too, but I hate her so much. There's a bunch of Marines in the other ones. Wagner is cool. If we get back to a warzone with a beach she can teach you how to surf. Rothschild is a big deal. Davos is a good guy. The other big guy seems nice too." She chatters away amiably to Ines as she settles in, puts her bag under her chair and pushes the next one over out for her ECO. When she has to like, breath, she pauses, does that and chases air with Libran beer to try it out.
Gage, immediately and all too seriously takes Ines up on her offer: "Deal," that suggests that, if there's any snoring, there will indeed be kicking from below. He doesn't seem as thrilled about Paige's order of drinks, or perhaps it's just the type of drink. Either way: "I'll stick with beer for now, myself." With a brief grin to Sarita, "Beer is beer, in the end. Even the worst brands still somewhat taste like beer, and I aint precious." He taps his nose, "Always trust me to pick a decent dive to hang out in." Not that this place could be termed a dive -- despite the dark interior there's far too much polished wood for that -- but details. He gives a brief snort at Irene's description of their various bunk mates. "What she's basically saying is you're shoved in with a bunch of marines, aside from her and Zeller. Some pilots don't have the balls to stay the course." He slides an inquiring glance at Ines: does she?
The drinks are brought out in a six-pack. It is beer after all. But the bottles look like wine bottles. Paige smirks in Gage's direction. "Sometimes, it's about trying something different." she offers with a wry twist of her smile. "I'd appreciate not being turned down in my offer?" she asks polietly as she listens to the run-down of Bunkhouse C. "I'm over in B. Or Captain's Quarters, as it seems to be called. Almost everyone in there is a Captain. It's not bad." she shrugs her shoulders as she passes out the dusty bottles and moves to open hers.
In the veritable torrent of information Irene gives her, Ines's expression changes only once -- but I hate her so much is what gets that arch-browed, curious look. "Rothschild. I never saw her in person, but it'll be good to have someone from home to speak to." Maybe. Possibly.
Glass plucked up and lifted, she pauses with it held in front of her lips pre-sip as she's issued that challenging look by the lone figure holding down the table's testosterone quotient. "It's the boots," she posits, expression absolutely solemn, but in a theatrical way that would never be convincing on a big screen. Irene Harris, she is not. "But I lost my sense of smell in a tragic -- ehm...sniffing...accident..." Somehow, she manages to hold onto her shoddy facade of seriousness in spite of its obvious loss of steam, even through the sip that finally follows. The eyes glitter, though.
She glances Paige's way, and then at Sarita. To the doctor: "And you? Do doctors bunk separately?"
"Well, if you change your mind, I'll take it off your hand," Sarita tells Gage of the other Libran stout. There's a half-smirk for him. She is not about to turn Paige down on her offer; curious enough of the dusty bottles. She takes one from the pack, setting it near to hand. She has her open one to finish first. She's mid-drink when Irene asks her question, giving a small shake of her head. "We're Wolves. We'll be bunking with the rest of you. I don't have my assignment yet. I assume I'll be getting it once we head to the ship."
Irene was probably being facetious about hating her bunkmate, she just said it in such an off-hand way it seems semi-plausible. There's no correction after the fact either, just a slow nod for some of Gage's words. Only tough pilots survive in C block. Mean little half-marines like her, and Zeller. For a time she even puts on a tough face, or the toughest face she can manage which would just barely intimidate a kindergartner, if they were especially timid by nature. "Sniffing accidents are the worst." She quietly agrees, half smiling between sips of Libran beer. That bottle is carefully set down when the dusty six pack arrives. Curiousity inflamed she reaches for one and puts the cap to the table edge to pop it off like she's weirdly practiced at it. Hopefully it's not a twist off. "Is there room in the Captain's Bunk for another? How does it smell in there? Like glory or socks?"
"Got plenty of Libran, for now," Gage replies easily to Paige, gesturing to his full bottle. It's not a no, but it's definitely not a yes, either. "Probably for the best," the marine says, of Ines' unfortunate nasal injury, chuckling briefly. "The morning after an all night patrol and before a laundry run...?" he whistles, totally hamming it up, nodding towards Irene. Sarita's comment has him nudging second bottle towards her. "Just remember, you asked for it, Hargrave. Aint trying to get you drunk."
"I'm not sure I can tell a mere Lieutenant about life in B Bunk, Irene." Paige says with a little lift of her nose in faux haughtiness that looks just so right on the Caprican Princess. "You'll just have to find out for yourself. Mainly it's Viper jocks being Viper jocks, though." Her eyes roll at that as she turns her attention to the beer. "When they signed the agreement a little over two years ago to celebrate the creation of the Colonial Forces, each colony provided a single drink to represent them. This was Caprica's entry. Wine. Beer. I'm not sure which one they were aiming for, but it was a beer that was aged in a scotch barrel." she offers and takes a drink. It has a malty sweetness to it - and were it not for the dark bottle, it would be almost white in color. The scotch flavoring shows through the malt, giving it a subtle aftertaste and kick.
Like glory, or socks? Irene says, but what Ines hears, after yesterday's flight, is this: Like glory, or Socks?
Surely, that won't have tragic consequences later.
Her return volley backfires when it's implied that the bunkroom does actually stink to high heaven on account of Marine laundry, and something in her sassy deadpan wilts a little. Well-kept brows skew together in a beat of uncertainty that she covers for with a sip from her glass, and appropos of nothing she asks afterward, of the whole table, "Is there anything in Caprica City that's must-see, for someone who hasn't been here before?" While she asks she slides one hand into a side pocket of her fatigues, rifling through the spare contents for something specific.
"Are you not?" Sarita accepts the beer from Gage. "I thought that's why you offered to buy me drinks." There's a flash of a grin for the marine as she leans back in her chair. "Do you play pool, by chance? I could be up for a game." To Ines' question, all she can do is shrug. "I don't know," the Canceronian woman answers. "I'm not familiar with Cap City. I just wanted to drink. That is the must-do for me."
"I guess I'll never know." Irene sighs, ever so sadly. The type of stink that permeates the Captain's bunks will forever remain a mystery to the mere lieutenant, junior grade. What won't, however, will be the taste of Caprican Ambassador Reserve. It will forever be seared into her memory, if her reaction is anything to go by. Her expression is initially excited, then uncertain, then vaguely disgusted and then more ambiguously confused. "I'm glad you explained it." She says to Paige before trying another sip with much the same result. "Because I don't understand it. I think... I like it?" Maybe? Another try might cinch it. Nope. Not yet. One more! She's mulling over the taste still, when she gestures frantically at Paige, "Oh, what was that place we were at earlier? With the things and the market and the park." Because obviously that's a place Ines should see.
Settling into an easy slouch, Gage nurses his Libran beer. He doesn't seem that interested in Caprican tourist attractions, which is probably why his gaze is sliding over towards the noisy group one table over, egging each other on about something and laughing raucously. He snorts at Sarita. "I thought that was a pretty transparent bribe, Hargrave," he responds, easily. "I could," is added to her offer of pool, along with a brief smile. "Want to put some cubits on it?"
"There's the shopping district, definetly a must. The nightclubs.. well, they're not as popular as they were before the war, but the district still gets a lot of attention. There's also the harbor. We could rent a sailboat or a yatch and take it out on the water!" Paige offers with a grin. "But really, I plan to visit my mom's penthouse.. I need to get her affairs in order while I'm here. It's the first chance I've really had to visit her place since she passed during the war."
Ines takes the suggestions with equanimity, though some land more favorably than others. Shopping seems to fly wide of the mark, but boats get a better reception. "I love the water." Eventually she manages to come up with the thing she was fishing for -- a glossy, folded tourist brochure. The text is too enthusiastic by half and the colors are eye-meltingly gaudy, but it's not clear what it's for, because before she can share it, she hesitates. Studies Paige with softening eyes. "I'm sorry to hear that." And she means it.
There's an almost hurt look for Gage, but Sarita's grin ruins the attempt to guilt trip the marine. "It couldn't serve two purposes?" She glances to the noisy table, herself, but quickly back. "Sure. It's no fun if there's not something riding on the outcome." She lifts her beer to drain off the rest of it. Then it's between the other stout or what Paige bought the table. She opts for the Caprican weirdness the ECO brought, opening it and taking a careful sip. Her brow furrows as she considers and takes another. "Curious." She does listen with half an ear to the talk of touristy activities, but is also prepared to go claim the pool table if Gage wishes to play.
"Make it an interesting wager, something more fun than cubits." Irene suggests with a wide smile, but she doesn't detail what said wager might be. She's still half-tuned to Paige and Ines, glomming onto the sailboat idea mentioned with enthusiasm that interupts her tentative drinking, "We should go sailing!" Then after that blurt, her brain catches up to her mouth and she also looks sympathetic and softly at the Caprican captain. "Aw, I'm sorry too. I had no idea. I'll give you a hand if you need it."
"Next round of beers, then? Nothing too fancy -- aint on an officer's salary," Gage replies to Sarita with snort. Irene's suggestion of something more fun has him raising his eyebrows in curiosity. "Got any suggestions, Harris? Aint about laundry duty." Paige's words about her mother receive a look, but the marine doesn't say anything as he stands, lifting his beer.
"Don't worry about it..." Paige frowns a little, and lifts her beer. "To Grace Graystone. Mum, you tried to build my whole life, and I proved it all wrong." she says with a little hiccup before she takes a drink from her bottle again. "Definetly going to need something stronger than this." she admits. "And what are we playing for now? I mean, this isn't like truth or dare, is it?"
Glass already in hand, Ines lifts it that little bit higher to join the toast at the table. Her gaze wanders toward the front-facing window when she brings it to her lips, and with anyone who knew her better, the fact that she doesn't participate in the mischief-making enterprise of selecting a wager might have been a tell about some shift in underlying feeling.
Even so, it's brief. She sets the glass down. "I'd go sailing. Also, I..." Then the brochure; then the unfolding, placing it on the table, smoothing it out. Beneath the white wear-lines from having folded it up is a picture of someone who looks like a bright fuchsia flying squirrel, bobble-headed with a helmet and goggles.
WINGSUIT ADVENTURES, it says.
Irene lifts her bottle to Grace Graystone too, having a moment of silence rather than try to eulogize or say anything at all. She finishes the toast with another drink of the Ambassador Reserve, slowly losing her reservations regarding its taste the more she puts down. Funny how that works. As for suggestions, she considers very, very carefully for all of two seconds, "One shot for each ball you were behind at the end of the game, and possibly, the loser has to kiss... somebody." She looks around at that point, seeing if there's somebody particularly heinous about. There's the rowdies a table over, but she seems to dismiss them after an appraising look. "Or, you know, something. I have ideas." She taps her temple lightly and slowly realizes the awesomeness of the brochure Ines has produced. "What. Is. That?"
"Wingsuits? I thought that was a Scorpian thing." Paige says with a raise of a brow. Though at the wager Irene is offering, the ECO blanches slightly. "My lips do have class, Iris. You better remember that." she murmurs with a smirk. "It is hard for all of us to play pool at the same time, however. Maybe who can shoot the cue ball closest to a pocket without sinking it?"
"No, no laundry duty. My clothes have... very specific requirements and I am not putting that into someone else's hands." Sarita is very, very serious on this point. She's to her feet, with Paige's beer and she also grabs the other stout as well. "I'm- ah, do not know any group games of pool. I was challenging Tomak-" there's a look to Gage, then to the other ladies. "But if someone knows of a group game and can come up with a challenge." Her shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. "Let's hear it. I am interested."
Glancing down towards the brochure proffered up by the viper pilot, Gage chuckles. "That's got Harris written all over it, just for the suit," he predicts, leaning over to look. "Sounds like fun, though. I'd be down." The marine's brows go upwards at Irene's suggestion, before he chuckles. "The odds are in my favor, win or lose. I'm down." He takes a step towards the pool table -- still within conversational distance -- and just leans against it to claim it by proximity while the game at hand is sorted out.
And into the Bar, walks a little known figure. She is dressed in a blue sequin dress, coming down to just past her knees. The material itself meant to have a slight sheen to it when the light hits it just so. The woman's red hair is done up in curls, and she wears make up as well. Mira slowly walks in, a strapless purse with her as she looks around at all of those here - or atleast a glance over the people. Her measured steps begin to make their way towards the bar, her hand coming up with a smile, "Caprican Sunset, please. Twist of lemon." Her voice elevated to get to the bartender. She turns to look around again, seeing what was happening at the Cap City Bar.
Ines flashes a sudden smile at the enthusiasm from Irene, and she slides the brochure that way, glancing up at the leaning, looming Gage. "Bon? Everyone should come."
I thought that was a Scorpian thing. The words get a complicated little look from Ines. Mixed feelings, as though they've reminded her of something. "That could be. There was a little outfit on the bluffs outside of Montseny, but I never -- as a civilian, I didn't. Try it." Somewhere in there she glanced at Sarita and raised her hand palm-out, shaking her head a little, to say she's not jumping into the pool game.
She does notice the new arrival -- it's hard to make her feel underdressed even in fatigues, but this group sure is making an effort -- but there's no recognition.
Wingsuiting, yes. Many nods from the blonde Virgan, Irene is game. It looks stupid, dangerous and the suit is gloriously fuschia. How can she possibly resist that? Gage has her figured out. "I'm so in." She smiles back at Ines before tipping back her bottle and committing to a quarter of the beer-like Caprican invention. She's well over her initial misgivings, it would seem. A look goes to the bar as well, there's a vague suspicion there in her expression, one that suggests she knows the redhead, but she's not sure. She nudges Paige and whispers to her tablemates, "Is she in our outfit?"
"I wasn't shooting it down, Ines.. just surprised it was here." Paige tries to explain, giving a blossoming smile. "Maybe we could try it." she offers finally, before she downs some more of her beer, and the nudge from Irene gets Paige to look, and the ECO bites her bottom lip. "She is. Let me fetch her." she finally says and rises from her seat. Moving across the floor, Paige offers a smirk as she comes up beside Mira. "Buy a girl a drink?" she asks playfully, before gesturing. "Actually, I have the drinks, if you wnat to join us? You look great." comes the small comment of appreciation before offering her arm to lead Mira over to where the rest of the Wolves are.
"So drinks and... or making out? Is that the terms we're working out?" Sarita takes another drink as she makes her way over to the pool table, looking from the others drinking to Gage. "I can agree to terms such as these." She sets her second beer down on a nearby ledge as she starts looking for a pool cue. "What terms do you prefer, Tomak? Or shall we go all-in?" There is a look for Mira as she overhears the others speaking of the newly arrived.
By contrast to all these well-dressed women, Gage looks completely casual in khaki's and obviously Tauron t-shirt, but also completely unphased by it. "Let me know the where and when, I'll be in," he says to Ines. He glances towards the new entrance, does an up-and-down assessment of that dress with a fleeting look of approval, before he sets his beer on the pool table's edge. "I'll rack them up, you get the shots?" he suggests to Sarita, with a knowing grin, "I mean, you're on an officer's salary, after all. And I'm all for drinks-per-shot-behind -- so long as you promise to clear my airway before you leave me in a gutter somewhere."
The weight between laziness and boredom is a very delicate balance on Aleksander's scale, especially when the Timberwolves are offered officer quarters, the Tauron can't help but take full advantage of it, even if it is to rub it in the faces of the Caprican officers that are a touch displeased about it. Lounging around does lead to boredom and eventually, the rifleman chooses to venture out. Word has it that a couple of Timberwolves made their way to the Cap City Bar so that is where Aleksander heads to. Stepping inside, he can already sense the Caprican style, causing him to scowl slightly. Bright side is, he may be able to irk a Caprican enough to pick a fight, then claim self-defense. He does begin making his way towards the bar though, a hand already fishing into his pockets for his pack of cigarettes. At the moment, the Tauron is in his Timberwolves off-duty outfit, with the fatigues jacket left unclasped just to have the markings identifying who he is.
"You wont have to buy anymore.." Mira's head dips forward as she hears the familiar voice. Her head turns to the ECO as she saddles up next to her. Her head tilting, "...I don't want to interrupt you and your friends. I would hate to be a burden." She teases back and reaches over so that her hand comes to Paige's cheek, she pulls her closer and speaks softly before moving her head back. The smirk only deepens and her hand comes around Paige's and up so that it rests, "If you please, Captain. I would appreciate being introduced.."
"Oh...that's not -- I didn't think you were. It was..." But the complicated little look came from a complicated little memory, and explaining seems difficult to do with any grace. In the end, Ines just smiles and shakes her head at Paige, waving the whole thing off. "Nothing." It'll just have to wait until she sees Astraea again.
She follows the Caprican's trip toward the bar with her eyes, and when they look in the direction of the table she waves, leaning aside to slant Paige a nose-crinkled smile, all pearl and possible mischief. "I think we're going to get along very well."
The bright smile sticks around for Gage, and she answers with an arms'-length thumbs-up. Roger that.
...Which means she's looking up when another of their number manages to find their way in. "We're going to run out of seats," she says, to no one specific.
Since there's plenty new to the scene, Irene is well off duty, uniform replaced by a white sheath dress with a soft peonie print and strappy heels. There's also her tourist-y sunglasses with the hot pink frames and mirrored lenses that shine oil-slick rainbows at the right angle. Those are worn in her hair now, given the marked lack of sunshine in the bar, and there's a bulging tote bag under her chair full of Caprica tourist swag. She's parked at a table with Ines, near the pool game about to start between Gage and Sarita. That leaves Paige and Mira, who Irene is watching after with a brow up. She looks at the viper pilot with her, quirking a bemused grin, "They seem to know each other." Oh, and to the pool players, she's quick to confirm, "Drink and make out!" Which, admittedly, doesn't sound like much of a punishment.
The touch to her cheek causes a hint of pink in Paige's cheeks and she smirks finally. "Yes, well, we are well on our way to drinks and making out, apparently." she offers as she brings the woman over to the table, and the ECO clears her throat. "Since we don't know everyone here.. everyone, this is Doctor Miranda Veracruz De La Hoya Cardicnal..." see, she went through the whole Leonis name. Ahem. "Or just Mira." She drops back into her seat next to Irene and leaves room on the other side for a chair for the doctor. "I'll let you all introduce yourselves. Except for my favorite pilot. Irene Harris, or Iris." She gives the atomic blonde a bright smile.
Once she's picked out her pool cue, Sarita sets it carefully by her beers. "Uh-huh," she says when Gage brings up her salary again. It's a rather awkward turn of phrase for her accent, but it comes up all the same. A couple years in the Navy will do that. "I'll get the shots. Just get the table ready. She's left her embroidered jacket in the care of the other ladies, for the time being, it'd seem. Ambling her way towards the bar, the doctor leans up against it and this time, manages to miss anyone mistaking her for her sister. Thankfully, for as famous as Amrita is on Canceron... the movies haven't quite reached a hyper popularity on Caprica. No, she's soon enough returning with a tray that holds a handful of shots of whiskey to set on a shelf by the pool table. "And I promise," she offers upon her return, "on my word as a medical professional... that I will see you it that you make it back to base. Whether you find your own bed or not is another story."
Logan slides into the bar from wherever Logan's come from a little bit after Aleksander, no doubt drifting behind the other large Marine. The oversized recon Marine has been out of the loop for a bit but apparently bar visits draw him out. He's russled up a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that somehow seems to fit him, and really doesn't at the same time. Logan makes his way to the bar first grabbing up a drink and as he surveys the area he notes the cluster of Timber wolves. He observes quietly for a time and then makes his way to the other not dimunitive Marines. "So you guys pulled escort duty?" He asks curiously as he lifts his beer for a sip. As Irene encourages people to make out he smirks faintly, "Iris, are you coming up with unconventional tactics again?"
For shame, the Tauron is drinking Libran beer. But at least it's not Caprican beer. Gage lifts a hand, letting out a low whistle to grab Aleksander's attention, grinning over at his fellow Tauron -- and by extension, Logan -- from his place by the pool table. "Wait, is that punishment for the loser, or a prize for the winner?" his brow furrows at Irene's clarification. Maybe he isn't sure whether to be insulted or not. Instead, he busies himself racking up the balls, selecting a pool cue for himself. He's been in many a pub, clearly, familiar enough with pool to know how to set up while he waits for Sarita. He eyes her sidelong, amused, at her latter words. "Hey, nothing wrong with a gutter. It's plenty comfortable. Ladies first," he gestures to let Sarita take the first shot.
The group of Timberwolves are hard to miss and Aleksander spots them rather easily, since he was expecting to find them here. Followed up by the whistle from Gage, the rifleman nods his head in greeting and acknowledgement to the combat engineer. For now though, the Tauron is content with staying at the bar as he orders himself a beer. Nothing from the tap of course, as it would only be his corpse that would drink a Caprican beer. Instead, he picks a pricier 'foreign' beer, Leonese since they don't seem to have the Tauron kind he likes. Leaning against the bar while his drink is fetched, Aleksander pulls out his pack of cigarettes and plucks one out. Lighting it, he takes a quick drag before exhaling a smooth line of smoke out. When his beer arrives, he drops a few cubits on the counter in exchange.
"Oh? Wow.. No wonder Morale in the Timber Wolves outstrips that of every other combat unit." Mira comments on the making out as they make their way over, her hand dropping as Paige moves to sit. She does a half bow to everyone, and then Iris specifically, "Ahh.. Irene. I believe I've been told about you before, It's a pleasure to meet you. I love your callsign to." The Doctor's head shakes slightly, "We don't get callsigns as Doctors. It's one of the travesty's of the profession." She looks at those present and then the pool table. A soft chuckle, "I have personally never been a huge fan of Pool. Now Cards.. I love playing Cards. I'm told that Pool is a lot harder though. Physics, Geometry, banter.. You have to know a lot more."
There's a beat as she looks between the two, her face seeming overly critical as she looks at each and then an exhale, ".. If it's not untoward.." She reaches to her purse and takes something out, placing it on the table, "25 Cubits.. On.. You.." She motions to Gage, "..Call me crazy.. but I think you've got what it takes on this match up.." The Doctor moves back and sits down, next to Paige.
They seem to know each other. Ines flicks Irene a wry look, holds up a hand with her thumb and index finger just barely apart: maybe just a little.
Does Ines have a parade of names, in fine Leonis tradition? If so, she doesn't ever seem to use them. "Ines Correa," she offers Mira -- and by extension the other two infinitely burlier arrivals. "Nice to meet you. And hey -- happy birthday, Paige." In all of the socializing, she'd almost forgotten.
She is listening to the banter around the pool game, and it keeps the sparkle in her eyes at a perpetual simmer. "If the Wolves are anything like my old unit," she says, lifting her glass and lowering her eyes, delivering the last few words to the inside of it, "We only need another round of drinks before everyone's mind is in the gutter, anyway."
"Ines, that's /the/ Logan Lindus. Hey, Lindus! It depends who the winner has the loser makeout with, Tomak." Irene greets, and further clarifies, so it could go completely off the rails for the loser, potentially. She waves at Logan with the stupid enthusiasm of a happy puppy wagging their tail, her fangirl crush having not apparently diminished yet. She'd still be waving, probably, if she weren't distracted by Mira and Paige. "Oh, hello Doctor. Nice to meet you too and the callsign thing, if you knew what it meant, you wouldn't want one." The Virgan adds with a warm smile, "I just got lucky that mine sounds pretty at least."
"...gambling on kisses, Miranda?" Paige asks in mild amusement, before the mention of her birthday gets her eyebrows to rise and she shoots Irene the look reserved for traitors of the Empire! There's a moment before she ahems. "It is a few days off yet, and planned to take a few friends out to celebrate, but hold a more.. informal thing on base? I know this bakery that makes the best sheetcakes. Figured we can take over one of the common areas and have cake and drinks, and just.. bond?" she suggests with a shrug, seeing how the idea is recieved before cementing it.
Logan points out, "It's a bar. Betting on the Marine is always the safe bet." He assures the Doctor and then considers, "Don't all doctor's just use the callsign Doc?" He asks curiously and then he grumbles to Irene, "You don't have to say it like that." But he flashes a grin at Ines lifting a beer in greeting that indicates he doesn't at all mind the attention. "Pleasure to meet you." He offers and then he grins at Irene in amusement shaking his head ruefully. He then offers to Gage, "Don't let them add too many rules. I'm told they tend to get her way it's an officer thing." He warns solemnly.
The crowd has definitely expanded, but Sarita is about to play a game. And there's alcohol on the line. "I would say a kiss for the winner, shots for the loser, but... I would think everyone wins when kissing is involved, yes?" She picks up her beer for a swig before setting it aside, moving to the fore of the table to setup the cue ball. The woman leans to get a good look, pursing her lips as she considers. "Betting on making out is either difficult, or I do not understand the rules of that sort of bet. So, miss a shot... take a shot." And she goes for the break- dropping one of the solid colored balls in a corner pocket. Satisfied, she steps back to consider her next shot. She waves towards Irene: "No, no, I do not want to reward someone random with my kisses!" Because she is perhaps assuming she will end up losing. And so it goes: her next shot misses and she gives Gage a helpless shrug as she steps over to the tray to pick up one of the shots, downing it.
Gage's brows go upward at the show of solidarity -- or probably the flash of promised cubits -- from the other doctor. Grinning towards Mira, he says, "Appreciate the support. Also the love of cards. We should have a game later." If he isn't busy lying in a gutter or anything. Chuckling at Ines' observation, he adds, "We don't even need that, most of the time. Another thing you'll learn living in our bunk. Speaking of which," he adds, gesturing towards Aleksander, "That's Davy, he's in with us, too." Irene's clarification of the rules has him grinning. "Now that's better," he says, as he watches Sarita break. "We're playing Harris rules, Hargrave." She's doing good, early, but he looks undaunted, still. "Nice shot," he allows, as he continues to watch, waiting for her to miss. He steps up, potting two in succession, his third zinging off one of her balls and missing. "I expect you to watch my back, Lindus. Keep 'em honest," with a grin, as he steps to take a shot himself.
The Doctor snaps her fingers and points at Logan, the finger then coming to her nose, "I like the way you think.. You and I are going to be good friends.." Mira winks to Logan with a grin and glances over to Paige, "Oh I was just offering my hard earned cubits to some poor soul who wanted to take them off my hands. Are you offering me kisses, Captain?" She glances over to Irene and her eyes widen a moment, "Oh, it's your birthday? How did I not know that!" A brief pause at the clarification. She glances over to Gage as he speaks to her and nods, "Don't let me down.. I now have a gift to go buy! We shall definetly play soon." She looks back to Paige, Irene, and Ines. Her hands coming into her lap, "What do you want for your birthday, Paige?"
"Ah?" Spend any time with Ines, and a person is going to get very used to that little single-syllable response, usually accompanied with a slight rise of both of her brows. This time the focus is Logan, introduced that way, with such enthusiasm. It takes her a moment to place the name. "Ohh, yes. One of our professional athletes!" She tilts her head and gives him an assessing look -- straightforward, not coquettish, which probably makes the wince that follows more palatable. "Ai. I'm going to have a very difficult time keeping up around here."
Their gathering is beginning to take over the whole of the venue. Ines has to half-stand and lean to see who it is that Gage is pointing at, but when she spots Aleksander she shoots him a very half-assed salute, its laziness probably owed to the glass of whiskey in front of her. It's friendly, at least. All of this other business lets her bypass acknowledging that she inadvertently threw Irene under the birthday bus, and tune in just in time for cake. "Cake? I like cake."
Another drag of the cigarette is taken before Aleksander places it on one of ashtrays, letting the lit end smolder slowly while he takes a long drink from his bottle of beer. Passable, for a Caprican bar. From his vantage point, he is able to just watch the comings and goings inside the place, his attention focused more or less on the other 'Wolves present. He would keep an eye on the pool game going on between Gage and Sarita, ready to give his fellow Tauron a fun, verbal thrashing when he loses. Catching Ines's casual salute in greeting, Aleksander sends one right back.
Irene has two drinks on the go. A fancy Caprican Ambassador Reserve and a respectable Libran import of some kind. She switches from the former to the latter for a few sips, as if she felt sad it was being neglected. Then she's back to the Caprican. Then finally she gives up and just alternates at her leisure, one in each hand. "I don't know how else to say it, /the/ Logan Lindus." Irene grins at the big recon marine, but she does. She's just fooling. When another bunk C resident is mentioned she twists in her chair to find Aleks so she can wave at him to, or at least wiggle her fingers at him from around the neck of a bottle. Then it's back to the discussion at the table, birthday planning is important business. "Definitely cake. Probably two cakes, since we didn't have an ace party either."
"Kisses are earned, Doctor, not given." Paige says primly as she sits up all proper in the chair in the bar in Cap City. One that her mother would have probably frowned upon. "You know.." the ECO offers, tapping her fingernail against her teeth. "...yes. We both made ace. So did Faye. Have to include her. Oh, I know." she smiles devilishly. "I ... could have a tea party, where we all have to dress up for petit'fors and tea that has to steep. But maybe.." she considers Ines for a moment, and glances over towards Irene and then Mira in amusement. Maybe it is the drinks she's had. "We could try the wingsuit thing. I recognize those towers they're using. We could totally do some urban wingsuitting. What do you think?" she asks, of noone in particular.
"Athena save me," Sarita says as she sets the empty glass upside down on the tray. They're all whiskey. Not quite bottom shelf, but near to it. "At least pick someone halfway decent when I lose, Tomak. This is meant to be an enjoyable evening out." She lets out a long breath as she steps back up to the table, looking back to the growing numbers of Wolves. "I would ask for introductions, but I fear I will forget them all after this." Her first shot handily lands a ball. She lets out a breath, as if she weren't expecting to actually be successful at such. Rolling her shoulders, there's a call over one: "Wish me luck." Whether the others in the crowd (male and female alike, though she expects the other marines to root for Gage), the Canceronian goes for her next shot. That one lands as well. Finding her groove, perhaps, she goes on to the next: it's an easy one. Just plink on a side pocket and the striped ball drops. And the next? That one goes, too. Four down and they've cleared half the table. She even lets out a "Ha!" with a look of triumph flashed from hazel eyes in Tomak's direction.
With seven balls remaining, it's this burst confidence that's Sarita's undoing. She lines up her next shot and utterly fumbles things with the cue ball. It just slides harmlessly up next to a couple others. She drops her head with a sigh and sidles her way over to the shots.
Logan smirks faintly, "Of course we'll be friends. I'm a great friend to have." He says assuredly with well all the confidence of a Pyramid star. Gage gets a quick thumbs up, "As honest as I can you know. It's a difficult challenge but I suppose I'm up for it." He says with his usual grin. "Iris always demands more cake." He points out sidling up beside the pilot, pausing only to strike a pose for Ines' assessing gaze, and then he's raising his beer towards Irene and if she doesn't move trying to press the cold base to her neck. He then slowly raises a brow considering Paige as she goes from tea party to wingsuitting." He blinks slowly, "You know... if you're going to fly you could at least use a ship." He suggests in bemusement.
The talk of cake has Gage glancing that-a-way, but his attention doesn't linger for long. There's now a matter of pride, a makeout session, and also cubits on the line! "You can give me your top three preferences. I promise I won't share," Gage tells Sarita, with a grin, as he watches her play, nodding approvingly at her first ball, though perhaps less approvingly as she goes on a bit of a streak. "You hustling me, Hargrave?" he asks abruptly, suspiciously, just before she fumbles one -- that only increases the marine's suspicion. "Huh." He's giving her stink-eye for a moment, before he leans over to work, shifting around the table at need. He catches up -- drawing even -- one ball ahead before he misses another, stepping back and gesturing for Sarita to take her turn, as he reaches for the glass of whiskey and downs it.
<FS3> Gage rolls Reflexes (8 6 5 4 3 1) vs Sarita's Reflexes (7 5 4 2)
<FS3> Marginal Victory for Gage.
"Oh, has to be earned, she says.." Mira retorts haughtily. She stands up and all of a sudden moves into Paige's lap, "And how does one earn such acclaim?" She smirks - both her tone and movements show more a jesture of jest then any true intent. She stays in Paige's lap for the moment as Logan speaks and nods her head, "..You seem like a great friend.. I hope you're a card player." Her eyes go to Irene and Ines about to speak when a vibration can be heard from the purse left on the table. A sigh and frown as her eyes go over to it and she grabs it. The purse opening and a beeper type object being produced. A shake of her head, "That.. would be typical." She stands and looks at those present, doing a curtsy, "It was a pleasure to meet all of you. Unfortunately, I apparently am needed on Base."
There's a yelp as Paige finds herself with a lapful of doctor, and the ECO tries not to flail, though her cheeks are turning bright red at Mira's daring. "Yes.. uhm.. well." the Caprican is trying to find the words to say. "Maybe, one or the other. I just want to spend my birthday with friends." she finally offers quietly before Mira's rising up to leave just as quickly as she flopped in her lap. "I'll see you later?" she asks Mira as she's suddenly departing and glancing at her drink in confusion./
Logan smirks at Irene as she reacts waves him away. "I feel like the victory conditions for the exercise were not clearly set." He complains eyes twinkling in amusement. "Well if you eat cake before wingsuits at least make sure it's brightly colored." He says as he reacehs for a brochure to blink and consider it admitting to Ines, "This... is not something they would have let me do while I was playing." He says ruefully as he considers it and laughs at Paige's discomfit as she has a doctor in her lap. He waves at Mira, "only one way to find out. Take care." He says in amusement and leans in towards Irene watching Paige, "I don't think she is used to that."
"Top three?" Sarita studies Gage for a long moment as she considers the newly offered terms. "That's fair. I accept." When he accuses her of hustling, she scoffs. "No! I'm just not wholly sure of my fate in your hands." But she's missed soon enough and has to take a shot. This one she nurses while he plays. The doctor watches the Tauran engineer intently and with a bit of nerves; knowing the end is near. And on her next turn, she only drops a couple, herself. So it goes and in the end... it's not the Canceron woman who wins, no. Alas to anyone who may have had their hopes set on Hargrave being the winner. Instead, she's downing a shot as Tomak gets to sink that final cue ball. She lets out a long sigh as she sets the glass back on the tray and steps over towards the Corporal, gesturing to him. "Come here." Except, drunk, it comes out more like 'C'mere.' So she can offer her three choices to him sotto-voice.
For a viper pilot -- someone who ought to be pretty perceptive -- Ines sure does seem to fail to notice the little situation unfolding around Paige's lap, and all of the subsequent blushing going on. It leaves a little corner of pseudo-privacy for her tablemate...or as close to such a thing as it's possible to give under the circumstances, anyway.
"They want to go," she tells Logan, two fingers indicating Paige and Irene, though she doesn't look at them. "And this one." 'This one' is Gage, apparently, as indicated by a thumb angled over her shoulder. "So you have to ask yourself: is hot pink your color?"
Dim awareness that the pool game has ended prompts her to pivot in her chair to watch the proceedings, one arm draped over the back of her seat, her glass in her other hand.
Nevermind the loser's supposed to down shots, Gage gives a victory punch of the air, and then downs one of the glasses. Sarita's beckoning call has him grinning as he moves over, leaning down for the differential of their heights to listen to her choices. By his expression, he isn't all that pleased with her choices, giving the doctor a disappointed look as he straightens. "Shouldn't have added that rider, could've made it more interesting before we had extras arrive," he concedes with a sudden grin, staightening. "All right. LINDUS? Front and center!" he yells, gesturing for the ex-pyramid player. "Take one for the team, solider!"
Irene pshaws at Logan's complaint as if her victory was and will remain a solid fact, for all time. She won't revisit it. No way. She does agree with the big Aerilonian's last comment though, nodding to it as she watches Mira leave. Like Ines, she doesn't comment on it directly, but gives Paige a crooked half smile and raised eyebrows. She's definitely going to be asking about that later, or maybe sneaking in a few innocent remarks next time they're in a raptor together. Definitely. Slowly, very slowly, she looks back to the game, having missed the deciding shot. She can't tell who won, not until Gage's victory air punch is executed. She lifts both her beers and whoos! And whoos again a bit louder when Logan gets selected as the designated makeout with Sarita person. "Oooooh. Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" Yes, she's so into this.
Logan assures Ines, "EVERY color is my color." He says brightly and flashes Ines a little wink. It's clear he's been paying more attention to Paige's drama and chatting with Ines and Iris than the game. Despite his claims to watch Gage's back. So his head whip snaps as he's called out and he's moving over before he blinks as he takes in the situation, "What am I doing a shot of?" He asks glances around holding his hand out for a drink from Gage and looking vaguely confused when he doesn't see one evident. As Irene pipes up he glances around curiously again now to see who is kissing who.
"I left you an opening," Sarita admits to Gage quietly, looking a bit sheepish at least. "And you wouldn't set me upon some random Caprican." They both know this to be true. "I did warn that kissing bets are strange ones." She's retrieved her beer and downed the rest of it. Or is, rather, in the process of doing so as he shouts for the former Pyramid player. An attempt to cover up the red that colors her cheeks. The flush, against her naturally dark skin, only makes the numerous piercings she has stand out all the more. When Logan looks utterly confused, she sets the beer down and draws up her hands to cover her face. "Perhaps you should choose someone else," she mumbles into her palms. "I don't want to embarrass him."
"So you did," Gage replies to Sarita with an entirely unrepentant grin. When Logan approaches, he's definitely not offering a drink to his fellow marine. "You and Hargrave get to make out as punishment for her losing. Make it good for the peanut gallery," he's all too aware of the 'whooos' going on in the background. "Embarrassment is part of taking the loss, Hargrave. Dig in!" So to speak.
There's a roll of the ECO's eyes and Paige rises from her seat. "I'm going to head back to the base. You good here?" she asks Irene, already knowing the answer before she playfully tossles her blonde hair. "Don't do anything your mum would approve of." she teases before she moves to head off to call a taxi for a ride back to base.
There's too much ambient bar sound to hear the little laugh from Ines as Sarita buries her face in her hands, but even with her tumbler hovering near her mouth it's evident in the way her lashes narrow over her eyes and her shoulders shake. There's no 'whoo' from her, but she obviously wouldn't miss this settling-up for anything, making her wave as Paige departs a quick one.
Logan blinks and tilts his head as Gage informs him of the mission. Logan lifts his beer and drains it, "Oh? Oh! Well... if it's for the audience." He grins at Sarita and laughs, "Embarass myself? Not possible." He says brightly and he reaches for Sarita and if she doesn't move away he reaches for the doctor and he pulls her in with an arm and lifts her off her feet and tilts her back hooking an arm around her legs and bending her over to kiss her thoroughly. It's not a particularly long thing but well Logan is nothing if not a showman sweeping her entirely off her feet.
Irene gives Paige the saddest face ever to sad in the entire galaxy, roughly, but it's brief because she knows it's not going to make the ECO stay. "Aw, you're leaving? I'm good, I guess! Thanks, for the... whatever this is, Princess." Beer? She lifts the suspect bottle that she's still drinking from, so she can't hate it. "Go get her!" Is her further encouragement, given with scrunch lipped smile, as if she's trying to prevent a full grinsplosion. The dam breaks on that when she sees Logan put the dipsmooch on Sarita. "OoooOOOoooh!"
Even if Sarita is on the taller side of the female Wolves, Logan still has nearly a foot on her. She does not move away because while she's not as excitable a Pyramid fan as Irene over there, well, Lindus is one of those faces that almost everyone recognizes. She was expecting a sort of quick peck situation. Being wholly swept off her feet? That was not at all what the surgeon calculated for. She lets out a surprised sort of sound, grabbing at Logan's shirt; not out of fear that he'll drop her, but reflex more than anything else. And even if she is blushing furiously throughout it (not being remotely the showman type), she does at least kiss the man back.
Grinning to the ex-pyramid star, Gage lets out a whistle as Logan gives Sarita a showy kiss. "Nice work, marine," he hollars loudly, to the obvious disgruntlement of that table near them, since it's louder than them for once. He seems oblivious to them though, winking at Sarita. He makes his way over to the bar and the Tauron there, leaning to clap him on the back, while gesturing for another round for him and Aleksander. For once, he doesn't immediately try and bum a cigarette off the other marine, instead, <<Some shit beers they got here, huh?>> in amused Tauran.
Ines finally gives in, and adds a sharp whistle -- and a smattering of applause, too -- to the general din when the bet is settled in style. It all draws the attention of the few patrons who've managed to stake out a claim in an establishment now overrun with Timber Wolves, but she doesn't look sorry in the least.
She does drain her glass, then, and setting it down carefully is confronted with her first Choose-Your-Own-Adventure choice of the night: to make the smart choice and turn in for the night, or to reorder? She side-eyes the glasses of the soldiers around her, although, given the number of shots flying around, maybe 'what everyone else is doing' isn't the best way to make decisions.
Watching the pyramid pro-player being called out to kiss one of their newly transferred doctors has Aleksander wearing an amused expression. He remains at the bar, enjoying the beer, finishing it by the time Gage comes by. His cigarette is also ashed in the ashtray, having killed it with one last drag. The question from the other Marine in their native language has the rifleman releasing a sigh of resignation, <<What can you expect? At least they have imports here, so we don't have to drink poison.>> The second beer being ordered by Gage has Aleksander offering an appreciative nod as well as his pack of cigarettes so the other Tauron can grab one if he wants. "And the way I see it, I think the doc is the real winner in that match between you and her."
Logan holds Sarita in that position for a few moments and then he's quickly letting her down back on her feet. He ensures she's steady and back on them for a moment before he's grinning and releasing her gauging her for a few moments in case he might be about to get slapped. He murmurs something quieter to Sarita and then he gives a grin to Gage, "Told you, got your back, whatever the trouble." He says in amusement and then he glances to Irene and Ines. "So, whose got next game?" He asks brightly.
No, there's no slapping, but Sarita continues to wear that blush for a moment longer. Some of it from drinking and some of it from the kiss. The recon marine put on a show indeed. She blinks a few times before lifting the back of her hand to cover the lower half of her face. There's a shine in her eyes at whatever he whispers to her. The Canceron woman turns her head to respond, just as quietly, before stepping back to retrieve her last bottle of beer as she watches to see who might step up for the next match.
<<The Libran isn't that bad,>> Gage replies to Aleksander, chuckling. He tosses some cubits onto the bar for the beers, nodding thanks to the bartender before chuckling at his fellow marine. Surprisingly, perhaps, he shakes his head for the offer of a smoke. "Pretty much," he concedes, of the observation. "Come be social," he says, instead. "I've got a viper jock for a new bunkmate. Bets on how long she lasts in with us marines?" He tips his head back towards the group, catching Lindus' comment with a thumbs up as he collects his new beer and aims to rejoin the group. "Yes, whose game next?" he asks, interestedly.
When Gage declines his offer on the cigarettes, Aleksander actually looks surprised, the expression hanging there for a long moment. He can only shrug and put the pack back down when the beers arrive. As for the invitation, the Tauron takes a drink first before looking towards where the others are, "Tempting, but I think I'm actually going to head back. Not everyday we get beds that are meant for officers, I think I'm going to jump on mine." If it breaks, it will only piss off their Caprican hosts more. As for the new bunkmate, Aleksander arches a brow, "Depends, is she the shy bookwarm type, or the crazy suicidal type? Some of this Viper jocks are almost as tough as Marines. /Almost./" That word repeated for clarification.
One of those patrons, a Caprican dudebro in an expensive suit from a party of near clones, looks over when Ines whistles. There's some joking amongst them and the snideness, pointed looks and smirks from the lot suggest they're laughing at the Timberwolves. Irene pays them little mind, smiling at Logan and Sarita instead, saying to the tallest, woefully, "I'm not very good." Still, what the hell, she has a final drink from one bottle and sets both down. It's go time. She's starting to stand when one of those guys lurches over and gets way, way to close and nearly spills his drink on her. "DAISY BEAN!" He laughs, already trying to throw an uninvited arm over her shoulders that she half anticipates and starts to shrink away from, but he's not dissuaded in the least. He calls to his friends, "I TOLD YOU GUYS. IT'S DAISY FRAKING BEAN!"
Whose game next?
Far be it from Ines to snipe a game with Irene's favorite (?) Pyramid player. She slants an arch-browed look at the woman, and when Irene demures she opens her mouth to say something, only to have one of the locals come crashing in like a sauced meteor.
It's the shrinking-away that gets her to her feet. Not that she has the foggiest idea what she's going to do about something like that, but the alternative is doing nothing, and that just won't fly. "Whoaaaaa. Pardon! Excuse me!" She reaches for the arm that isn't trying to yoke Irene. And then what, Ines? Then what? "We were just about to play pool, you can't have her!" ...Sure! That works. Maybe. Oh god.
It's that Libran stout that Sarita is working her way through now. And it, indeed, isn't bad. It's not a Caprican beer nor is it frou frou. "No need to be good," she offers to Irene with an encouraging -- albeit drunk -- smile. "It's all for fun. There's some shots left-" she gestures to the tray she'd gotten for herself and Gage. "For whoever goes ne-" but the Raptor pilot is besieged by one of the locals and the doc straightens. "I don't think she wants you touching her." There's a sharp tone to her Canceron accent.
Logan raises a brow at Sarita's response, "Oh? You know... I feel like the Timber Wolves really have interesting views on winning and losing. I know exactly what you mean." HE says in amusement, "Well pleasure. I certainly won't turn down a drink." He says as he looks down to Sarita in amusement. Aleksander gets a grin, "Don't break it. If you break your bed there's NO way they let me have one." Then there's a pause and his eyes flick tracking Irene and the interactions. Logan doesn't look angry or like the type to fly into fisticuffs. But he has a forced grin so very clearly different from what he was earlier wearing as he watches the interaction suddenly standing up taller at his full height and just raising a brow and waiting for the reaction to Ines intervention.
Stopping for a moment, Gage glances back at Aleksander. "Oh, just jump on the bed? Make sure to leave the door open, really let those Caprican officers get their panties in a twist." As for the latter, he glances Ines' way, then back towards Aleksander. "TBD. I'll update you later?" With a nod of farewell to Aleksander, he heads on back to the group, brow furrowing at the ruckus around Irene. He's less discrete than his fellow wolves; while Ines tries to pull Irene back, he just rudely pushes in, trying to force the dudebro back. "What're you saying about my sister, man? She aint no bean!"
"Yeah, jump on it, like what all kids do when they were young?" When they had excessive energy as youths. Aleksander does shoot Logan an amused grin about the bed before he grabs the beer that Gage bought and takes another long drink. Then he pushes off from the bar and /was/ about to head towards the exit when the Caprican dudebro rudely enters the no-fly-zone around Irene. This could be the excuse that the Tauron rifleman was waiting for to exercise that 'self defense' on one of the natives he was hoping for earlier. There is a predatory grin that appears, one he is trying to keep hidden but failing but instead of walking towads the exit of the bar, Aleksander follows Gage towards the Timberwolves table, just waiting for the Caprican's next move and maybe some of his buddies joining in.
Pushy guy doesn't seem to connect the fact that his arm isn't swinging so freely to it being held by Ines or anything else, so he swings harder like it's just inexplicably snagged, drink sloshing around violently enough that it's soon a fountain, splattering on himself, the floor, Ines and Irene, and Gage when he steps in. By that point there's barely anything left, and the Caprican fan is laughing still, "This is Daisy Bean, from that stupid show-" He can't remember the name, exactly, but he does know part of the theme, singing, drunkenly, "We're on the road to sky!" The other guys at the table start laughing, one joins in the mocking of the themesong, another stands up and he's clearly sizing up the group.
Irene is all wincy face. This shouldn't be an entirely unfamiliar situation, but it obviously took her by surprise. She tries to straight arm out and away from the guy, but he's gripping down hard on her shoulder by then and her diplomatic, polite attempts to extract herself without making things worse is failing. "Hah, thanks, but if you wouldn't mind. You - oh, seriously. My dress!" That's really the final straw. It's a new dress!
There's tension across Sarita's shoulders; that much is obvious through the thin fabric of her black, sleeveless blouse. She may be drunk, but the adrenaline that kicks in when the Caprican's buddies begin to join in washes some of it away. Aleksander and Gage have moved in, yes, but she doesn't shy away either. She has a certain responsibility afforded her by her rank. So she just raises her voice, again. "Sir. The Lieutenant," maybe he's unaware it's an officer he's grabbing at, "doesn't appreciate your advances." She's not getting physical with anyone. She went through basic as a required part of her commission, yes, but she's no combatant.
Ines shoots Sarita a subtle look of gratitude when the surgeon adds her voice to the unfolding situation. There's another one when further bodies get involved -- bodies far better-suited to dealing with drunk and potentially angry men than hers would be.
And still, he won't let go. She holds on anyway, jostled every time he makes an attempt, but while she's probably as fit as it's possible for her to be, she's just not built for brawn. The drink sloshes everywhere -- all over her duty uniform, god that's going to reek -- but all she can focus on is prising that man off of her without hurting her shoulder in the process.
"You should really collect your friend!" she singsongs over the noise, when one of the other rowdy figures stands up from their table.
Logan watches Gage press in and he smiles faintly at the play. His eyes quickly size the group watching wincing as drink goes all around and ends up on Irene's dress. He shakes his head faintly. He strolls up to the table winding his way quickly through the crowd and sidles up to the other man getting up he claps an overlarge hand on the rising man's shoulders, "Any of you boys watch Pyramid? I've got a round and a signature if you guys get your friend out of here before anyone does anything silly?"
Beer is a terrible thing to waste. To a Tauron, it might even be a capital offence, although Gage is not so much worried about his clothing's state. Instead, he claps a hand on the Caprican's shoulder. To an outsider, it probably looks like a friendly shoulder-clap. That's what it's meant to look like, despite the fact that his fingers flex to add pressure to what's intended to be a painful gesture so that he'll release his hand. He glances, barely, at the figures at the table behind the dudebro, but doesn't focus on them. "Davy, what's that--?" he pauses for a beat, then starts a countersong: "Give a girl a Caprican, watch her marry another man?" He's not really trying to be the voice of reason, here.
Lucky for Caprican dudebro that the drunken sloshing of his drink doesn't land on Aleksander's duty fatigues, or the Tauron may have disconnected the man's wrist bone from his forearm bone. He does take note of Irene's complaint and then sees one of the larger guys from the dudebro table stand up. The Tauron was about to head over to start trouble but Logan is already making his way there. Eyes narrowing slightly, Aleksander stays put for now, looking back to the drunk and then Gage, hearing his rhetorical question. With a mocking laugh, he says, "This guy has a bigger problem." He also takes a step closer towards the Caprican that spilled his drunk on his compatriots, leaning in, "He just disrespected the Colonial Forces uniform," Ines's uniform is used as an excuse, "And your outfit, as well as Harris's. So he /will/ pay for the cleaning costs or suffer the consequences."
"Who is this guy?" One at the table asks, nonplussed by the offer of an autograph. The one next to him stares hard at Logan and after a moment begins to snicker, "He played for the Threshers. Like we want a signature from you."
The standing guy, the one with the Thresher's hand on his shoulder is perhaps less interested in a fight. He's a full hand shorter and nearly half as wide, and knows his limits. He nods and calls over at his friend, "Hey, come on. It's Daisy Bean, yay. You just found the c-list celebrity from a garbage colony. Pat yourself on the back and get back here before these hardasses all hurt themselves trying to prove how tough they are."
As for Touchy McDouchebro, he's not so sauced as to not feel the Tauron fingers working his nerves, nor miss the growing threat coming from Sarita and Ines, and especially not he more blatent one from Davos. He's nervous-ish behind the alcohol valor, but laughs it all off. It was all a joke, "Relax. I didn't know she was Lieutenant Daisy Bean. Oooh. Gods damn." He finally takes his arm off her shoulders, if only to press his hand into Alek's chest like he's going to try and push through him and Gage at the same time.
As for Irene, she is just mostly upset about her dress, like super upset. She looks about ready to jump on the guys back and pull his head off by his ears. "Show a little class and apologize."
EXPRESSION OF GRATITUDE RESCINDED. The look Ines shoots Gage is flat as day old soda-pop, glazed with a light icing of Really?? And then she gets pegged as Aleksander's casus belli, and she'd him the same look if it weren't for the fact that doing so would let Drunk Guy's whole table see it, and -- well. They can all go straight to hell, obviously. She may not want to end the night in a fist-fight, but she'd take that in a heartbeat over undermining one of her new squadmates.
She lets go of that arm as soon as Irene's released, but she lingers, and the only time she glances away it's to look at her empty glass with a poignant pang of regret. One drink was nowhere near enough, in hindsight.
When your own colony has so recently gained independence and is still trying to figure itself the hell out, you hear things like 'garbage colony' a lot. A lot. And often worse. Something behind Sarita's facade breaks and the woman slides through the stack and right up to the table. Her hands land heavily on it. Partially because she's drunk enough to be a bit unsteady, but partially because she's rather upset now. "I think you need to leave." This, right to the man who delivered the insult. "These men and women put their lives on the line so you can sit around, drinking and talking out your ass without worry of toasters dropping a bomb on your head without warning. There's no call for that. Buy the woman a drink or get the frak out of our faces."
And why is there someone still holding onto his arm, anyway? The super drunk grabby guy finally seems to fully notice Ines and tries to shake her off, spilling what little was left in his glass in the process. "Heeey."
Logan doesn't seem overly upset as they don't appear to be Threshers fans. He instead just seems content as at least one of the guys seems to think better of it. He rolls his shoulders and he sighs, "This... is not going well." He claps the guy who seems to think better on the shoulder and then moves so that he's between the troublemaker and his table. He lets the others talk. Logan doesn't seem to have any interest in encouraging the fight.
When the Caprican's hand is pressed against his chest, Aleksander doesn't budge from his position, easily standing his ground since it was a simple attempt to push his way through instead of a pyramid shoulder charge. The Tauron does give Gage a look of amusement, "Corporal Tomak, I do believe this dumb, drunk, Caprican goat-frakker just assaulted me. So he disrespected our uniforms, disrespected our officers, and assaulted me. He has crossed the line, forcing me to defend myself and our unit's honor." With that said, Aleksander's right hand snaps to the offending Caprican's wrist and will try to give it a hard twist. Luckily, he is also just tactful enough to know that the officers present may not wish to get involved, nor causing damage in a Caprican bar is the best of ideas. "We shall be taking this outside, your goat-frakking friends are invited." And the rifleman will attempt to forcibly lead or drag the Caprican towards the exit.
While Gage might be aware of Ines' expression, it doesn't deter the Tauron in the slightest. When the Caprican releases his hand from Irene's arm, his fingers relax, though stay loosely on the man's shoulder. "What, you want to kiss a Tauron instead? Don't think Davy's into that, but okay." When the guy tries to shove through him and Aleksander, the marine grins, hand tightening for a moment until Aleksander speaks. "Seems like it, Corporal Davion." His laughter is genuine, pleased even, as he follows the other Tauron out -- presumably to watch his back.
And why is there someone still holding onto his arm, anyway? The super drunk grabby guy finally seems to fully notice Ines, after she's already let go, and tries to shake her off. Which is way easy when she's not even holding on anymore, so yup, what little was left in his glass is sent flying. Clearly he's more than a little inebriated, and keeps trying to push through the Tauron wall, despite it not giving an inch. "You guys are shit. I'm being friendly and this?" This? He sounds like he's the wronged one in this situation.
The standing guy throwing insults looks more sober, but it's by degrees (and not many). There's no apology there, in fact, there's a bit of a dismissive sneer at Sarita before Logan's bulk completely eclipses his view. He yells over the Aerilonian's shoulder to his errant friend, "Let's go, you mung! These heroic fraking mouthbreathers are getting upset."
Aaaaand, that's about when Alek's steps it up with the arm twist. The response is slow, but sudden as the drunk feels the pain go up his arm like he's stuck a fork in an outlet. There's a yelp and he twists himself about, trying to get away from his own arm, and Aleks at the same time. Obviously though, that isn't happening.
Everyone at the other table is up with the yelp. That's five Caprican goat frakkers ready to go, counting the drunk in the wristlock. They seem to like the odds well enough to give it a shot, so they start to swarm, giving Logan space and honing in on the two Taurons first. There is much swearing and posturing, and demands that their friend is handed over.
Annnnnd they're off to fist-fight in the street.
Ines schools her expression as she turns in place to watch them go, fingertips twitching at her sides. "Well...shit," she says, as their corner of the bar erupts into sound and movement. That word has never sounded less vulgar than it does right then, gussied up in her Leonese accent.
Choose-Your-Own-Adventure Choice Number Two. Five on two? Granted, they're Marines, which means their numbers are -- Ines is quite sure -- multiplicative instead of additive, and probably never start from a base figure of one...even when there's only one. On the other hand, she'd probably just be in the way, one more liability to worry about.
Running out of sensible body parts to count on, there is the fact that both of these men are her new bunkroom-mates...and at least one of them doesn't think she can stick that out.
Well, that settles that, then. She hopes her slow reach backward for her unopened bottle of Paige's wine-beer is subtle.
And she just dealt with Tomak having gotten himself into a fight with a Caprican. He's going to owe her more drinks. But Sarita is not staying behind, nor is she abandoning them. The woman, however, will see the group out of the bar. She grabs her jacket, following on the heels of the others as they head out of the establishment towards the street. Likely intending to at least provide any potential medical needs to her fellow Wolves afterward.
Irene, having heard neither an apology or much of an improvement in the level of class being shown, looks irritated. There's a long, plaintive look down at the front of her dress, now smelling of alcohol and spattered wet with the same. From there, a glance to either side at Ines and Sarita as if she's wondering if either have any ideas about the quickly degenerating situation, or know any good ways to get whatever that was out of fabric. Maybe she'll try dabbing it with a napkin first. Dab-dab-dab. She's still doing that when the fight starts spilling out into the street, pausing only to a) scoop up her tote bag from under her chair and b) lower her sunglasses so that she can go incognito to the brawl. "Kestrel, careful where you stand, it's hard to get blood out of those uniforms." She warns Ines, expecting a bloodbath outside.
Logan blanches as Aleksander neatly guides the rowdy troublemaker out. He blanches, "I swear I've seen this flick. Iris see if someone can bring us a round of beers for after." He grumbles and as the table gets up he shifts clearlyc ontinuing to keep himself between the others moving in at least until they can get into this. Logan rumbles and takes a more sedate pace falling in with Gage and Aleksander. He rumbles in his basic Tauran, <If I end up in a raptor in the desert, I'm blaming you both. I should have just kept kissing the doctor...>
The arrival of the Caprican dudebro's friends is not surprising for Aleksander, though he is impressed with their restraint on just cursing and posturing instead of straight out throwing blows. So he will ignore their words and anger until they are atleast outside, perhaps delaying any calls to authorities. Hearing Logan, the Tauron gives the other man a grin that looks more grim than amused with the current situation and mood, <<If you receive any bruises, maybe she can kiss them to make it better, Lindus.>> Once outside, a hard pull is given on the drunk's arm and then released, as if flinging the Caprican forward and with his inebriated state, will be off balanced and fall. Instead of just throwing a fist at the nearest dudebro friend, Aleksander actually says in a rather loud and threatening tone, "Last chance for you Caprican clowns to apologize and pay for the cleaning. Or you all will have the joy of experiencing pain."
Blink. Ines turns her head to watch Irene pass as she's given that little tid-bit of information. There are layers to unpack in that statement, but the only one she addresses out loud goes thus, and is murmured more to herself than the procession she joins: "That seems very short-sighted for a military uniform."
Leaving the bottle behind may prove to be a mistake, but after a moment's hesitation she does just that. It leaves her hands free to begin unbuttoning her duty uniform shirt, anyway. The t-shirt she's wearing underneath won't fare any better if there are buckets of blood, but they're both already liberally doused with beer, so what the hell? By the time she joins the others outside -- close, too -- the shirt is dangling from one hand, and she's twisted what was a ponytail up into a bun.
Just in case.
No handing over of Capricans going to happen, judging by Gage's expression as he takes note of the man's friends coming along. He has Aleksander's back, and the first Caprican brave enough to get near gets a shove, and a grin from the Tauron as he backs up after Aleksander and his prize and out onto the street. <<Don't think they liked goat-frakker. Maybe they prefer sheep-frakker?>> It might be in Tauran, but it's unmistakably an insult. He grins, wider, at Logan, maybe not so much at his words as his attempt at it. <<You can do both, my friend.>> And then Aleksander's being reasonable, but Gage's face tightens at one of the Caprican's insults. "Don't waste your breath, Davy. They don't know how to apologize." He doesn't waste any time -- going for expediency over theatrics, stepping into the nearest Caprican and going for a for a blow to his jaw, looking for a quick knockout so he can turn attentions to the remainder.
All Sarita wanted of her evening was to get drunk and maybe, if she was lucky, to end up in someone else's bed. She's pulled on her jacket, simply because there was nowhere else to put it. Embroidery and all. She may find herself paying for dry cleaning later herself, but you do what you gotta do... right? Nor does she have any idea she's being discussed by the Taurans. Nope. It might even soften her own fury a bit. There's an utter lack of surprise when Gage is the one to throw the first actual blow and she just stands nearby; not close enough to be in the midst of the fray, but near enough to show solidarity and be there in case one of the Wolves does end up legitimately hurt.
Dudebro honor demands at least a token fight after one of their own is so mistreated, so once the group is outside, they start unbuttoning jackets and cracking their necks and trying to look tough. Under normal circumstances, against other civilians, they probably would be sort of intimidating. They all have gym muscle of varying degrees. Expensive suits, haircuts and massive amounts of confidence.
Sadly, the first guy Gage hits goes down like a sack of potatoes. But they could claim that it was a cheapshot, and they weren't ready so it doesn't count. After that, they are, and the three still standing rush in, throwing punches and kicks that they've seen in movies. Only one, the guy doing the insulting inside, seems to know anything at all about real fighting. He decides to settle things with Aleksander, leading with a powerful hook. Logan and Gage each get another flailing at them. FIGHT!
<FS3> Logan rolls Melee: Great Success (8 7 7 7 7 5 5 2 1)
<FS3> Gage rolls Melee: Good Success (7 7 6 6 5 3 2)
It's not really a fair fight, and it's clear Logan knows it. Logan actually back pedals twice letting his opponent take a few clean shots. On the third one Logan steps in and wraps the man around the throat. He quickly locks a choke hold in, "Shh.. shh it's okay. Time to go night night. You boys just had a little too much to drink." He continues the hold until he can lower the man to the ground turning even as he does so he can inspect the other fights in case he needs to help out though apparently not thinking he needs to.
Seeing Gage deck the Caprican surprises Aleksander since the rifleman always thought he was the more aggressive and unforgiving one. This causes him to laugh out loud in amusement, pleased with his Tauron brethren's choice. However, this leaves him open for a moment as Davy looks back to the Caprican with actual fighting experience just in time to see the right hook coming. He doesn't have time to bring an arm up to block but reflexively turns his face so it is more a glancing blow than a direct knock out punch on his right jaw. It does force Aleksander a step back, stinging pain waking him further, more damage done to his pride. Eyes narrow and the marine looks a bit more serious and the fight is on. It is obvious that the Tauron is the quicker fighter between him and his Caprican opponent, but it isn't a complete domination. Eventually, with a punch into the Caprican's midsection, Aleksander knocks the wind and the fight out of the other man who crumbles to his knees.
It could be suggested that Gage quickly assesses the capability of his opponent and plays with him for a bit. Certainly, the Tauron seems to be enjoying himself -- trading light jabs for his opponent's flailing moves. He even lets the Caprican score a glancing blow against his cheek, increasing his opponent's confidence before Gage gets him into an arm lock, slamming him against a wall. That's probably going to hurt tomorrow, but nothing seems to be broken, at least. Rubbing at his jaw, the engineer turns his attention to the others, grinning widely at Logan and watching Aleks hold his own for a moment. They seem to have their fights well in hand, so he walks over and hunkers down next to the drunk Caprican. "Want to apologize yet, friend?"
"In the case of pilots," Ines says, tilting her head to the side Irene is on, though she keeps her eyes on the fight, "I don't think 'a little bit of blood' is a statistically likely problem." Grim as it may be? There's not usually much left of a pilot at all, when things go wrong.
That's all she has time to say before the fight is -- should be, really; they should stay down -- over. One brow wings upward and she drops her eyes, turning her wrist to have a look at the slim sport watch she's wearing. "Forty-five seconds? Perhaps?"
From her spot on the sidelines, Sarita watches the fight. It's an almost detached expression she's wearing; more an eye for the hits the Wolves are taking than those they're giving. A naval surgeon sees the aftermath of combat. A few blows traded is nothing, but she's still watching for anything that may need immediate medical attention. When Gage moves in to parlay with the still-conscious Caprican, she walks up to Aleksander and leans up to reach for his jaw. "Let me see," she notes, having seen the punch he took to the right side. She'll give the Tauran a brief, considering look. "If you want one, when we return to base," she notes in that careful Canceron accent, "I should be able to sneak through medical and retrieve an ice pack for you." It would seem the Captain, despite the requirements of rank as it were, has no intentions on reporting this to anyone.
The drunk guy, the one that started this chain of events, looks a teeny tiny bit chagrined once all his buddies have been pummeled. He's also a bit clammy looking, and shaky, but that's what happens when you get your ego and your wrist nearly broken. He half sits up, using an elbow to prop himself up and waves vaguely at the woman he blurrily believes is Irene. He's close, even if he's looking more at Ines than her when he offers his apology, "I'm sorry, Daisy, but that show was utter fraki-ARAHHHUurl." And his mouth is no longer making words, but copious amounts of vomit. It's like there's a barf hose where his guts should be and his mouth is the nozzle.
Irene has had enough, that was really it. "Oh, frak. Gross. I don't even." She puts her beer back down on the ledge and waves the whole scene off, turning away before she turns green herself. Time to get out of here. "That's apology enough for me. Buh. I'm getting out of here! I don't want that on my shoes." She's waving, but she's also not looking back. She can't.
With his opponent down, Aleksander looks to the others only to see that they had disposed of their opponents much quicker, which causes him to sigh again. Then the doctor is there and because he has dealt with medics before, he doesn't shy away or protest, knowing it would just increase their stubborness. "Thank you sir, but I think I should be fine." Perhaps still unsure about the new transfers, "If the Gunny asks, I didn't duck fast enough during a sparring match. Ice from the cafeteria should work just fine." Then he hears the sound of something vomitting and quickly looks to the source of the sound, amused that it was the drunk puking, almost on Gage's feet. Logan appears to be on the same wavelength as the Tauron, the latter giving the pyramid pro a nod of agreement. When Irene announces the retreat, there is no argument from Aleksander.
With a grunt, Gage rises from his crouch and steps back -- barely in time to avoid the projectile vomit. He'll take the victory nonetheless, it seems, despite his grimace. Irene isn't the only one seeking a retreat, falling into step with the other marines. Later, maybe much later, when there's ice packs and smokes and maybe drinks, Gage wonders of Aleksander with a grin, <<Still feel a need to go jump on a Caprican bed, or are you good, brother?>>
"Even training mishaps require paperwork. I'm avoiding paperwork." Because if the wrong person sees it and points out 'Hey, I didn't see Davion get hit in training,' then she's got a whole new mess to deal with. "But your choice." And Sarita leaves Aleksander to it, moving instead -- with wide berth to Vomits-a-lot to Gage, leaning in to give him a look over, too. She tuts gently at him with a sort of mild amusement to it. "At least you aren't bleeding from this one," she points out to the engineer. "Want an ice pack, or will you be good with ice from the mess, too?" There's a pause, making to exit, stage left, before gawkers or worse: local authorities (or even worse: MPs) show up. "Think I can get another night of drinks from this?" She purses her lips. "Minus the fight in the streets."
It's not a shriek from Ines, exactly, when the dudebro-laid-low pukes; it's far too quiet for that...but it's certainly a glissando up into higher registers than she's usually inclined to speak in, and she muffles it by lifting her doffed shirt and covering the lower half of her face with it. She looks more insulted by sudden vomiting than she did by anything that actually happened in the bar, and picks her way around the ruin of Capricans to follow the others.
She's pulling her wet uniform shirt back on as they go, and the pained muttering that's happening -- one assumes about the puking -- is all in theatrical, rapid-fire Leonese.
<<The Caprican bed is safe... now to find a Leonese Princess, then life would be good.>> Aleksander says in good humor, answering Gage's question in their native language. His pack of smokes is pulled from his pocket of course, one is needed after a good brawl.
Irene is just getting out of here. The beers are abandoned to Logan. Her shoes must be saved.