Erin takes some time to relax and watch a show on cats. Donny arrives, conversation ensues.
Location: Dauntless Observation Deck
Related Scenes: None
Scene Number: 1430
The Dauntless remains at alert. Never know when the Cylons will spring an ambush; that's already happened before. Good, smart Marines remain in uniform, even when off-duty. And, of course, Erin is a good, smart Marine. Sort of.
She sips from a cup of coffee. Since no one's looking, except for this omniscient narrator, she calmly reaches for a flask in her pocket, and pours in a little something extra into it. It could be syrup. It could be morphine. But it's probably something spicy and alcoholic, because somewhere it's fall and bitch needs some fucking pumpkin spice.
In her lap is an open textbook of some science or another. Erin, however, is watching the vid monitor across from her. What's on the tube? Some show about the predatory nature of house cats, which is mostly just kitty-porn clips of fuzzy bumpkins being totes cray-cray adorbs.
While he isn't a smart marine, and the jury's still out on whether he's a good one- Donny's still very much a marine in uniform. He's almost always in uniform, actually- it's a wonder if he has any other clothes at all. But enough of that.
The mustache marine makes his entry into the Observation Deck, and where Erin is subtle with whatever additions she adds to her coffee, but for what Donny's drinking... There's little subtelty there.
He's brandishing his own flask in a hand, and an outdated small tablet in another as he's making his way over to sink into a seat besides Erin. "Hey, Trash Panda." he offers her, which devolves into a slow yawn. "How's life treatin' you?" he asks, his eyes rising to watch the cats on screen. Now, it's up in the air what or who he's paying attention to. The conversation, or the furry rascals on the tele.
"Meow." Erin could have been saying 'meh', but she doesn't bother enunciating or repeating. "Life's good, life's good. Stolen anything expensive, Rooster?"
She moves over a little: she was sprawled on the couch before, sort of claiming it for her own. "Just getting nothing done. You know how it is." Snort. "Can't complain."
Onto another topic. Erin doesn't stop watching the vid. "So, where're you from, Rooster? I didn't steal your dossier from Mercer's office, and didn't feel like looking too deep into it." Shrug. "I like stories better anyhow."
Donny tilts his head over to the side, his flask rising to his lips before pausing just shy of his mouth. "I -wish-." he answers, letting out a sigh of faux disappointment. "They haven't let me on the ground since the Mufflers dropped scaffolding on us at the city o' stars." He's talking about the Caprica City attack. Probably.
"They could've just shot a -little- bit more to the left or right and avoided me, but nope." Donny's lips twists into a miserable shape before he rolls a shoulder. "I wanna shoot 'em back." he adds. It's then he sips from his flask. The flash of regret on his face shows it either burnt his throat going down, or it tastes like a week old sock.
"You know where the dossiers are in there?" asks Donny with a glance to Erin, before he pauses. "I'm from Scorpia." he says, looking back over to the screen. "A jungle town, Serpena. Where there was low income housing as far as the ground was flat." Pause, then a look to the marine at his side, "How about you?" Then he hears a meow, and he's looking back at the screen.
"Aquarian." Erin keeps her eyes on the screen. "Born and raised. Lived in this science enclosure on a glacier for 18 years with my parents. And then, went to university." Beat. "No siblings. No pets."
There's a certain detachment in her voice. It's hard to miss.
"Heim had the frak bombed out of it. Kind of ruined my life." Shrug. "So, I joined with Defense Forces. They got absorbed into the Libran Militia. After some sorties, got rolled into the Colonial Forces, like many other Aquarians. From there, to here." Another shrug. "Nothing much else." Which is a total lie, of course.
She takes a sip from her coffee, and then visibly winces. "Damn, I think I put too much in. Need more coffee." She grumbles, and closes her textbook. It is set aside for now. "You need anything?" She needs to get up now, apparently.
That detachment earns a thoughtful look from Donny, then it washes away as he's sipping from his flask and his face scrunches up. "Yeah-- could you get me water? This stuff tastes kinda like how paint thinner smells."
Donny eyes his tablet in one hand for a moment, his attention caught by a ping it gives him before his thumb is clumsily tapping away. Looks like Are You Wiser Than A Five Year Old: Pocket Edition. "No siblings though, huh. Not sure if I should pity or envy you- I didn't have a brother or a sister, but my cousins gave me plenty of headaches to make up for it."
"I'm a Foreign Legionnaire, though. Wanted to get out of town, it was the best way." Donny adds to his story, before he puts his tablet on his lap and begins to rub his mustache with his index finger and thumb.
"Here, catch." Erin tosses the bottle at Donny. It travels in a tight, unerring spiral, suggesting that the raccoon played either Pyramid or football in her time. Nice sidearm toss. She then sits herself back down on the couch, and puts her eyes back on the kittens.
"You know what I want?" She chin-bobs at the vid. "I'm gonna sneak one of those on board one of these days. The trick'll be keepin' everything secret, yeah? Might have to toilet train the little bastard."
"Nice throw." he adds after setting the bottle back down and twisting the cap back on. He's abandoned his flask in a pocket already, and he's getting comfortable where he sits. The talk of getting a cat aboard has Donny grinning, "I knew a dude who snuck a dog onto our base once. Funny thing: It was better at letting us know when we were gonna get shelled than Intel was... Wonder if those are the same." There's a hum to go with that thought. "What're the odds we'll run into any down on patrols?"
"Well!" Erin does look over at Donny then. "We found a litter of kittens on picon a few months ago. Thought at the time that I could get one or two on board, but, see, problem was that it was a long-term mission. Can't really keep mewling kittens quiet for two, three days with little food or water for 'em, right? Plus, the C.O.?" Tsk. "Couldn't happen." She taps her temple with a finger. "But, the thought crossed my mind, yeah."
She looks back to the vid. "So, what d'you do to keep yourself busy? I mean, other than work out, eat, and whatever." Beat. "We've been serving together for a month at least, right? And I figure, I don't know shit about you."
Donny blows some air through his teeth as his head hangs back, "What do I do, huh?" Giving the question some thought, his eyes shut and he begins to recount. "Well, yesterday I snuck vinegar into Private Dullaire's flask. He thought it was Lance Corporal Cruz, so I got away with it." Donny's head tilts to the left, and another memory surfaces.
"A few days back, I began drafting out a sketch for a tattoo- it's uh, one of the Vipers, with a viper around it- the snake viper, not just, y'know... Another viper." Then Donny's head shifts right, eyes opening.
"That's kinda finished, except for where I want the shading... Then when I had to visit med-bay before I got here this morning, I stuck a paper that said Spank Me onto Joe, the nurse... I think someone actually spanked him, cause he was furious when I walked by him on the way to the restroom."
Donny back to Erin, his arms lazily and loosely crossing at his chest. "So I just kinda frak around whenever I can. Which usually means I set my targets on folks who I don't bump into a lot. I'm just gettin' really anxious cause I'm not being put on missions while I'm injured though. I wanna at least patrol or -something-. It's driving me nuts."
Erin seems to understand that feeling. "Sure. Antsy. Kind of sucks."
She scratches the tip of her nose. "I try to make it look like I'm not injured, y'know? Check out of the sickbay early, or when no one's looking, and hide somewhere to recuperate. Doctors don't know where to find you, they can't haul you back in. And when they do find you, you show them you're fine, and Mercer'll look the other way." She makes a hand-wave. "Trust me. It'll be fine."
She licks the inside of her mouth. "What do you think about a ship-wide Pyramid league?" Beat. "Three on three teams. Play when you can. We could make a round-robin league, or something, track the trsults." Another beat. "You be down for that?"
Donny shrugs his shoulders as he takes a sip of his water, eyes on the screen. "I dunno how to play pyramid. I just used to throw rocks at windows as a kid." He admits this casually, before he looks over. "Once I figure out the rules and stuff though? Yeah, I could see myself playing."
"But yeah. Antsy is a way of putting it. I dunno, I guess I've just gotten used to being shot at, and now it's weird that I'm not being shot at." Donny sighs, the air brushing against the hair on his upper lip, moving it a bit. "I guess I'll just play hide and seek before making my way to briefing and then down on a mission, then."
"Well, could be worse. You could be shot at, and not know why or where it's coming from." Erin bobs, and then takes a sip from her coffee. "Eh, frak this shit."
She gets up again, and picks up her textbook. "Vid's all yours, Rooster. I'm going to empty this out, and give sleep a go, or something." Snort. "Swear, it's harder and harder to get sleep these days." Probably because people end up on her bed, for whatever reason. Dammit.
"If you're real bored, though, you could always hit on some nurses, right?" That's said over her shoulder as an afterthought.
"Mhm." Offers Donny as Erin rises from the love seat, his eyes briefly looking to her before being pinned back on the vid screen. "Odds are by the time I'm gettin' shot at again, I'll be at that point where I'm used to not being shot at." he offers between sips of his water.
His tablet in his pocket pings, and he's pulling it out and tapping away at it. There's an amused scoff and smirk at the talk of hitting on nurses. "Lucky for th' nurses, I only hit on marines n' pilots. And only when I think they'll hit back, literally." This amuses the rooster, but his smirk fades when the screen lights up red and announces that he is in fact not wiser than a five year old. "Frak. Well, best luck gettin' sleep, Chilly." he says, looking back up to the TV screen.