Aubrey's waiting for Pieter at her former bunk that he's stolen while she was away on med leave, dead set on getting it back with offer of all the things he should want. Some Picon talk is shared, and realization of who she was back on their home colony, before ultimately he opts for more time to think up a better counter-offer.
Related Scenes: None
Scene Number: 1531
Bunkroom B is empty at the moment, except for one individual, standing in the corner between bunks 3 and 4. The lower bunks of each, one of them being Pieter's, have had their curtains drawn. Aubrey is the figure in between, in her dual tanks and BDUs. Her hair is pixie cut short at the moment, owing to the fact it was shaved off when she recently had part of her skull opened up after a being shot down and crash landing on Caprica. A jagged, fresh looking scar also peeks out from the tank over her collarbone on the left side. In her hand is a laser pointer, and she waits patiently for her selected contestant to arrive.
Bunkroom A is empty at the moment, except for one individual, standing in the corner between bunks 3 and 4. The lower bunks of each, one of them being Pieter's, have had their curtains drawn. Aubrey is the figure in between, in her dual tanks and BDUs. Her hair is pixie cut short at the moment, owing to the fact it was shaved off when she recently had part of her skull opened up after a being shot down and crash landing on Caprica. A jagged, fresh looking scar also peeks out from the tank over her collarbone on the left side. In her hand is a laser pointer, and she waits patiently for her selected contestant to arrive.
It's probably been a bit of a frustrating wait at times if she's done this before. For all that the big ECO has totally taken over that middle lower bunk, plastering it with half-naked virtual game women and posters of old gaming contests, strewn with cryptography and signals manuals and holoband gear, the bastard's barely slept in it at anything approximating sane schedule. He's been riding a bit of a manic insomniac streak since his transfer to the Timber Wolves and sleep has been caught in snatches and starts. Maybe he was there a time or two if she'd come before, but his snoring bulk would have been utterly dead to the world, no matter who prodded at him, or maybe they've never crossed paths yet. Either way, it seems her patience is paying off this evening at least, for from the entry is coming a cheerful whistling of a man in a good mood. A tune she may or may not recognize as an old Picon Navy song of usually somewhat raunchy lyrics about a girl from Hyperion. In comes the man himself then, for all his oddity as a naval officer, crammed in his flight gear, top undone like a banana peel to show off a stained under-tank. He's faltering only fractionally in his whistling cheer as he slips in to see an unfamiliar face, sapphire eyes taking her in pleasantly with a flick. He then is giving an easy nod with the renewal of his tune on way to bunk past her, apparently assuming she's there for Alain or someone else.
"Lieutenant Raines," Aubrey greets with a bright smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm Lieutenant Jay Gee, Aubrey Naxos. But you can call me Banshee. And I have a proposition for you." She gestures with the laser pointer towards his current bunk, beneath Alain's. "This is where you're currently residing, in the bunk beneath Lieutenant Tomlinson, my wingman and best friend. As you may be aware, this was my bunk until about two months ago, when I was shot down over Delphi and grievously injured. I spent the last eight weeks in the hospital and rehab to recover."
She looks back to Pieter and intones, "I would like my bunk back. So I'm prepared to make you an offer." She tilts her head slightly, waiting for a reaction from the ECO.
He's pausing in his angling for his footlocker at the first words from her, a suspicious sort of look coming instantly to the jewel-bright eyes as if expecting a dressing down or something. Still, he's moving to lean against the bunk and fold meaty arms across sweat-stained patch of tank top and take in her talk with a thick brow arched up. By the end of it, he's giving a snort of amusement, a big, hearty grin flashing amidst the grey-threaded beard that he reaches up to scrach fingertips at under chin thoughtfully. After a moment, he's shaking head with a wry air and pushing off from the lean to start stripping from flight suit as he talks. "Hells of a way to start a conversation, hon, but eh, what the frak, suppose I can listen." His voice has a trace of Picon in it, mingled with more neutral Caprican air, gravelly baritone light and wry as his expression in tones as he casts a lopsided smirk her way. "It's Pudge though by the by. Or Pie. Only get called L.T. Raines when I'm gettin' chewed out mostly, so started off already with my back up a bit. Don't help that Jig's totally my boy already and I'd hate to say good bye to the neat freak!" Though Alain probably totally wouldn't mind that much, especially given the snoring and crazy hours. "Still, what you got in mind?"
Aubrey flicks the laser pointer back on and settles the dot on his current bunk. "Behind curtain number 1 is your current bunk. Plain, ordinary, and exactly like all the rest in here. It'll do in a pinch, but it hasn't been yours long enough for form an attachment. "
She flicks the pointer to the bunk beneath Salvae's. "Behind curtain number two is a mostly identical bunk, but with a few differences. This one is beneath Socks, who is awesome, and who will, certainly, knit you a pair if you're his bunkmate. The socks are warm, cozy, and totally fashionable, at least among the Wolves." She hold up her foot to display her own pair.
"It also comes with this bonus, a few things I brought back from Caprica City." Sher moves to pull the curtain back, and there, displayed on the bunk, are several items. A pie, a cake, and this season's Picon Surfer Girls calendar. "There are also the cubits for the upcoming new release of World of Warriors when it comes out." Video game. Someone did their research.
"Well frak, someone did their research!" Pie echoes the sentiment, mirthfully impressed, despite himself. He's got his flight suit stripped to the waist, his big belly overlapping it a bit. He pauses in the undressing though to lean in to reach a hand out for the Surfer Girls calendar with a laugh, flipping through it with an idle, appreciative eye, despite keeping his answer to himself for now and playing cards close enough to be not clear if he's leaning one way or another. As he's perusing his possible prizes, he asks idly of her. "That a bit of Picon I hear in your voice, Ban, or I showing my usual shit talent for accents?"
"Biscayne Bay. Grew up there. Dad is still there," Aubrey replies, leaning in the corner between the pair of bunks again as she watches him with patience only recently learned. "He had to move recently further from the beach though, when the Cylons hit the Bay hard."
A flicker of grimness passes through the boisterous demeanor as he nods to that last bit. "Yeah, lucky though a bit, that he's still whole. Mine were all caught up in the Fall." He's shaking his head a bit, as if to actively clear those thought out of his head, coughing once and focusing back on the beauties in their beachwear. He's bringing back the easy smile that's clearly his armor, taking on a laid-back air again as he asks. "So how long did you call this bit of identical home before your injury? Seem to have more than just an attachment, yeah?" He makes a languid, meaty-fingered wave to the arrayed bribes. As he's doing so though, he's looking at her more clearly for first time and some flicker of confusion flashing in the eyes. Some thought, there and gone, leaving him canting head and peering at her as if trying to chase it down by looking at her a different angle.
"Mom was at the Colonial Fair," Aubrey notes, and that says enough. No one really survived that in the Fall of Hyperion. "She had her middle school students there." Ouch. "It's been mine since we launched the Dauntless. And Jigger and I have been on one another's wing since May." She smiles and this time it reaches her eyes. She clearly has a high opinion of the very tidy pilot. The real smile might help his memory some, even though she has more scars and less hair than she used to.
Pie was caught wincing and looking down and away at the talk of her mom, the shell cracking again, though the sympathy genuine as only survivors can have. "Condolences." He murmurs, then shuts up and looks back up to the rest of her talk, moving past the grimmer stuff as they always have to when it comes up. Her smile indeed is the thing that clicks it home in his head though, jewel blue eyes going wide enough to see white fully around, recognition flashing and his smile spreading wide and disbelieving. Of a sudden, he's bursting out with laughter lacing it. "Frak me sideways, the Rip Curl girl! That's why..." His cheeks pinken a bit on realization that was out loud, referencing one of the swim wear brands she once did commercials for. Embarrassment riding him, he reaches a hand up to cough into before turning sheepish eyes away, tossing the surf girls mag back on the bed. "Ahem...anyways! So I get the attachment at least." Oh yeah, like he can totally just breeze past that as if he hadn't blurted out.
Aubrey snorts. "Yeah yeah, that's why they call me Banshee; that ridiculous scream I had to do in that first commercial." She rolls her eyes. "Feels like that was a million years ago. But be prepared, Charlie Wagner and Abigail Walker are with the marines." The surfer girl and another surf model?
"Char and I go back to Triton. Heh, didn't know about the other. They do like their beautiful Piconese in the wolves though don't they?" Pie offers out, then, as if to make it sound a bit less flirty, he's adding quickly with a slap of his big belly and a wink. "That's clearly why I got transferred!" To his credit, round as it is, the belly at least doesn't jiggle like a bowl full of jelly so much as just give a little ripple. Yes, we know. Totally sexy as the rest of them.
Aubrey chuckles. "Yeah, we have a longstanding theory that the Wolves must have at least a 75% population of D-list celebrities at all times or our funding will disappear. We have frakking Logan Lindus in the Marines. The Pyramid player! And for pilots, Micah Knoor the singer, Irene Harris the actress, and also actress Faye Zeller."
"And here I'm just a failed pro-gamer turned navy signals wonk. Oh well, you got Yoyo for the celebrity side." Pieter's offering after a generous, appreciative laugh for the D-lister talk, his 'Yoyo' probably referring to Yohan. Amused or not, Pieter's going on with a sly sort of glance as he looks to her, stepping back from the bunk to continue his strip down from the sweaty flight suit, unabashed despite not being in the same league of looks (or physical fitness) as most of the crew. As he does, he's going on with tones wry and thoughtful. "So anyways, about this deal. See, the problem we got here, Banshee, is that you're making one hells of a strong sell here. I get it. Attachment to the space, attachment to your wingman. A bit of normalcy after taking your hits for duty and earning your marks to prove you're a badass." He says that last with absolute and genuine respect. And, as he's slipping the flight suit revealing tank and boxers strained over bulk, more than a few of his own scars can be seen on limbs and legs, at least one bullethole near collarbone. He's moving to rack his suit as he goes on, that sly, amused air persisting. "So I've got a dilemma going here. On one hand, beautiful woman offering great deal for little effort, even if I got the space all nicely squared away chaotically as I like, and Jig's a fantastic bunkie..." A pause to trailing off, as he's pulling free a towel from footlocker and flinging it over shoulder as he leans against the bunk, peering over at her with meaty arms folded over chest again. "On the other...well, I gotta wonder if I can't leverage it a bit and see if I can't get something else since you clearly want it back pretty damned bad, yeah?" He spreads his hands. "Can ya blame a guy for the idea, given circumstances? First rules of bargaining and all that."
Aubrey has been in the military long enough to no longer 'see' naked people around her on the ship. It's just a sort of purposeful ignorance one learns to adopt when you all shower together and live in such close quarters. She clearly won't be modeling again in her scarred up condition herself. She grunts at Pieter. "That's fair, what's your counter?" she asks, folding her arms over her chest.
He scrunches up his eyes and peers off into the nothingness while a hand comes up to scratch at beard again. After a moment, he's chuckling and giving a broad-shouldered shrug. "Frakked if I know! I'm not zombie-racked dead-on-my-feet tired like I was last night, but I'm just off shift, brainfried, and in need of a good long shower. Tell ya what, take the bunk you're offering me and give me some time to think up something more interesting." He gives her that good-natured, apple-faced grin and a wink. "I promise, nothin' untoward." He thankfully seems genuine in that, having not gone sleazy with it in tone or deed, despite his recognizing her as he did from being a swimwear beauty. It doesn't even necessarily seem like greed either, especially as he's going on. "I gotta give this some proper thought though. Cake, calendars, games, socks, and even the gratitude of a beautiful woman are great, but how many opportunities for something fun do we really get?" With that ominous rhetorical, the big ECO's laughing and turning as if to start off in way of exit, and presumably the showers, assuming she doesn't lose patience with his ploy, trip him and brain him for the audacity.
"You'd be surprised," Aubrey quips, but she nods. "All right then, let me know. I'm not bothering to get all my stuff out of storage til I know where it's going."