Addison continues to press his luck with Stirling.
Related Scenes: 2237-11-05 - Happy CF Day
Scene Number: 1545
Stirling didn't stick around too long at the shindig. It's a tacit rule among the senior officers not to stay long enough for the mischief to turn so serious that one can't turn a blind eye to it. Because that's what soldiers and sailors inevitably turn to when left to their own devices at an open bar. The CAG has retired to her room in the hotel, chilling out with a book and a glass of wine.
Truth be told Addison had shown up late and departed rather early; with his sister still having issues from the last mission on Sag he'd been far from a partying mood and had only done what he could to make an appearance. But at the nudging of an evil twin, he had proceeded with a plan. Locating what room was Stirling's was not that difficult of a task and of course he had made his way in that direction being pointed to pass by a few Wolves along the way to garner attention; which seeing him dressed up in a suit with bow tie certainly could be enough to get such attention.
His hand lifted and fell against the CAGs door and Addison waited just outside, dressed in what could best be described as a powder blue prom tuxedo carrying in front of him a bottle of champagne resting in a silver bucket of ice.
It was not hard at all to locate Stirling, as she had expressly told the front desk to pass the info along if any of the pilots needed her. This was certainly not what she had in mind though. It takes only a minute to put her book down and cross the modest room to the door. She opens it, expecting some sort of official business, and the sight of Addison in that get-up causes her head to reel back an inch, eyebrows shooting up her forehead. Surprised is a mild word. Then she squints at him. "Hurricane," she says in a flat, stern voice that implies there had better be a good explanation for this.
"Ma'am." Addison responds as he stands there, his own eyebrow lifting up in a small mirror gesture and the attempt at hiding an amused smile is fought rather dilligently. "I had noticed you had left the celebration early. Wanted to just check in and make sure that everything was alright."
"Is that so," is the dry response from the CAG, not buying the innocent routine. "I'm fine, thank you for your concern." Stirling tilts her head and finally asks, "Did you lose a bet, to end up in that outfit?"
"This? Oh no, this is my special occassion outfit. I had it shipped in from Picon." Addison responds, a tone and demeanor that would befit anyone attempting to shine an innocent halo above their head if it existed. "I just figured since I was coming by to check afterall I'd dress up a bit."
Stirling snorts lightly. "It's very... colorful," she deadpans. "Well, Lieutenant, you've had your fun. Enjoy the rest of your evening." She pulls back a little, apparently intent on closing the door.
"Ma'am, if you don't mind." Addison holds out the bucket with the champange in it, "At least take the bottle of bubbly. You've earned it from a long campaign. I know, it's not quite the same as a good dance with Hurricane but... it's not the worse deal ever."
The query gets Stirling to pause just for a second. But then her eyes narrow slightly when he mentions the dance. "Goodnight, Lieutenant," she says, in a firm tone that could almost be mistaken for an order, even if the phrasing isn't one. Unless he stops it, the door closes.
With the door closing in his face, Addison looks down at the bottle of champagne and shrugs, "Well. We're not going to let you go to waste darling." He's clearly talking to the bottle as he pulls it out of the bucket of ice. The bucket is set next to the door across the hall and he starts walking off holding the champange bottle, whistling some kind of song that sounds a bit too chipper.