2237-11-20 - Native Housewarming Gifts

Same-Same hallways bring everyone to a pause and a new pilot breaks the ice with a gift of local beers.

Date: 2237-11-20

Location: Barracks

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 1580

Jump to End

Two. To. A. Room. Irene is close to overjoyed. Not because she hates her Charisma bunk mates or anything, but that level of privacy is a luxury beyond words after months of Dauntless style berths. She's already found a room and has her stuff, like ALL of it, dumped on her bed, with the duffle it was all packed into tossed to the floor. She's in her duty greens, naturally, but the pink framed sunglasses she bought during Scorpian R&R are picked up from the pile and slid on anyway. They are totally not regulation, but they're safer and better on her face. "I love you." She says to herself, maybe to the room, the sunglasses, or something. Glowing, she wanders to the open door and grabs either side of the frame to lean out and look around. "This is the best base ever and I'm never leaving again." She randomly announces, loudly enough for her voice to carry clearly all the way to the commons.

The Timber Wolves, after their last mission, have arrived at their new home. At least temporary home. An /upgrade/ of a temporary home. With /actual/ rooms. Improved privicy. Lits like coming to a five star hotel at this point.

Of course they also have recieved one more thing.

Reinforcements.

New Guys. New Faces.

In point of fact one of those new faces is coming ambling towards the barracks right at this moment. A duffle on his back and a box of something that clinks a siren song of...well it sounds like bottles...under one arm.

There is a smile on his face. A grin really as one Hunter King hears this declaration from one of his new wingmates. "...well...going to take it this is an upgrade over the last one." He drawls, his accent decidedly Picon but with a hint of something else flavoring the words.

Duffel, check. Wicker basket, check. Looks like Aldrich is ready to make himself at home, though he has fewer personal effects than most. He finds his way to one of the hallway 'spokes' and pauses for a moment, looking around with a faintly lost expression. "Is it just me, or do all these hallways look alike?" he wonders aloud, then follows the sound of familiar and not-so-familiar voices.

Northolt is cold. For many of the Wolves, it'll be misery. After Scorpia, it's likely a shock to the system. For other Wolves, it's like a taste of home. Outside the base, it's cold: blowing winds, threat of rain, or maybe even snow on the horizon. Yelena Reznik is one of those who is taking it in stride. She stood at the door of the building with her bags in hand for a long moment before stepping into the building proper. She's got the standard duffel and another backpack. Not uncommon among the military sect. The woman comes up not far behind Aldrich and scoffs before speaking in her thick, Tauran accent: "They are alike," the Lieutenant states simply.

Gray is also /beyond/ thrilled to have something which vaguely resembles privacy, and the barely-suppressed grin when he heard that they were going to be /only/ two to a room instead of racking on a ship (again) might have been noticed. Even if the weather here might be, well, crappy...well, you win some and you lose some. "They're sort-of alike everywhere..." he offers, not least because it happens to be true: There might be some design quirks on a base here or a planet there, but otherwise all of the halls run together...which might raise disturbing questions about space-time if they did so physically as well, but fortunately he hasn't encountered that. Yet.

Irene peers out from behind her mirrored shades with their cheap, but very neon pink frames at those who are arriving, and those who are lost. Basically everyone she can see, hanging out of her new room down one of the very identical hallways. "It's wonderful!" She declares, more like she's found her way to the BSG equivalent to Disneyland, rather than a base on a cold rock somewhere in the north seas of Picon. Bad weather? No problem, she's just going to provide the sunshine herself with massive amounts of concentrated cheer.

"Of course they are alike," Hunter replies with a smirk. "I mean only so many ways a prefab can get put up. Right?" He adds as he peers into one of the rooms. "Damn, this is like a hotel." He murmurs as he looks round for an empty bed. "...not that I'm complaining in the least. I think I'm with miss sunshine there." A grin towards Irene at that before he adds. "Ah rude of me not introducing myself. Hunter King. Callsign Stingray. I'm someones new roomate and someone elses new wingman. Once we get everything sorted."

Aldrich glances aside at Lena when she speaks up, and gives her a crooked grin. "Well. I mean. I just got a bit turned around, that's all." No one ever ask him to be navigator. "It's very nice, though... Has anyone spotted the chapel, yet?" He cautiously peeks around a door, checking to see if the room behind is empty. "Do we have assigned rooms or is it just a free-for-all?"

Gray nods towards Hunter. "Well, since I'm not a pilot, I guess that makes me Nobody." He smirks at the (rather over-used, he suspects) joke. "Gray Anderson. Nice to meet you, Hunter." Glancing back at the others, he shrugs. "I was told to report here, nothing more. I figure someone has room assignments. Whether we'll ever find out about them...who knows?"

"I just landed," Yelena explains. "I doubt the chapel is in the barracks." Unless it is. It'd be a strange base indeed. As for assignments, the woman's brow furrows. She shifts the bag over her shoulder, taking a few steps past the Gemenese man to look down another hall. She sets her duffel down on one of the couches, once she comes to them. "Well. No one gave me an assignment, so I was assuming free for all, like on the ship-" she looks over to Aldrich and Gray, both. "Isn't that how this unit operates?"

Leaning out into the hall by hanging from the doorframe, means Irene has no hands free for salutes or shakes or anything. She slowly pulls herself back and vertical again, smiling widely at the new guy as she does. "Stingray? I think you'd have to fight Bingo for the other bed, but you're welcome to try. I'm lieutenant j-g Irene Harris, Iris." Up go her sunglasses until they're resting in her hair atop her head. "You... look like a viper pilot." She decides, squinting thoughtfully at him as she does.

There is a laugh from the newcomer. "Got it in one, what was the givaway?" He asks as he looks around for a table to set his kit on. The box tinks once again as he sets it down before grinning towards Gray. "And nice to meet you back, Nobody." He says just running with the joke. Eyes twinkling. "But yeah, I'm sure there are assignments somewhere. There are always assignments somewhere. Ones that people usually forget about eventually."

A glance over towards Irene then. "Bingo? Mmmm...might be fun to try..." Then a pause. "Or, since I'm the guest here. I suppose I could just bring gifts as a distraction." He adds as he pulls the lid off the box to reveal a case of what looks to be very good Picon beers. Wide selection of them too. Not the standard fare either. Local named brews from all around the planet.

"I love using gifts as a distraction." He confesses in a stage whisper towards Gray.

Aldrich laughs a little at the idea of a chapel in the barracks. "Well, no, I wouldn't expect so. But I did a tour of the place before arriving here, and I didn't see anything likely..." He lifts a shrug at the question of how the Wolves operate. "Normally, I think we're pretty free-for-all, but this isn't totally a normal situation, either." His brow goes up when the beers are revealed, though he looks more amused (and maybe casually interested) than anything.

Gray smirks back at Yelena and gives her a thumbs up. "She's learning..."

Gray grins at the sudden offer of beers as a distraction. "They work on me..." he says, smiling and looking over the selection. It's a shame the same can't be said for toasters. "And since when have we been in a 'normal' situation, anyway?" he asks. The name of the game with this war seems to be that even in a SNAFU things are somehow not normal.

Distraction successful. Irene's attention is sucked neatly away from Gray and Hunter and into the case of Picon brews. Her eyes, already bright, still manage to light up a bit more. "If I'd know you were coming over with gifts I'd have got you something." And that's just not polite to have nothing to offer in return. Lightbulb. A finger is raised and she turns to duck back into her room and start throwing clothes around. Or at least from one pile into another pile from the head of the bed to the foot. A few items in she finds a packet about the size of a deck of cards and returns with it, peeling the wax paper wrapping back at the folded end. "Biscuits." She whispers, like they're in such demand that if she were to say it much louder than that, she'd be instantly mobbed. Despite their supposed popularity, she seems willing to give Hunter and Gray some.

There's a good-natured eye roll for Gray, but Yelena smirks. She's about to strike off down one of the identical hallways when Hunter reveals those beers. Her foot lands and rather than pick up her duffel from the sofa, she drops her backpack next to it and turns about, moving to join the others by the table the case has been set upon. She lifts a hand to push a blonde lock behind one ear. A couple bottles are picked up and set down. "Well," she draws, lowly, accent heavy. "I don't have to report to the base hospital until morning..." Another bottle lifted and the label studied. "And I do hate to turn down a gift..." She decides to retain hold of that bottle, casting a look to those she doesn't know. "Lieutenant Reznik." Beat. "Yelena."

"Well if you knew," Hunter points out with a smirk. "It wouldn't be a suprise distraction now would it?" Though the pilot pauses a moment as she suddenly dissipears back into her room and glances curiously at Grey to see if the other man knows what all this is about. He doesn't have to wonder long though and the offer of precious biscuits causes him to widen his eyes. Slowly he reaches out and takes one of the precious crispy treats. "I shall treasure it always." He whispers back. Then a beatpause. "Or at least till I finish it." He's trying so very hard not to laugh. "As for the rest of my gifts. Help yourselves! Don't want them to go bad now do I. That would be a shame."

Gray accepts another of the beers as it becomes clear that drinking will begin shortly, and also graciously accepts a biscuit. Mmm, these look good. "Yeah, if you're treasuring a beer always, you're doing it wrong..." he smirks back. "Thanks for the...barracks-warming presents, you two."

Aldrich considers the scene for a moment, and then sets his things down on a sofa next to Lena's, so he can join the group gathering around the beers. He looks over the selection, and chooses one to take, pausing to read the label for a just a moment. "Perhaps I ought to try this gift-giving strategy in the chapel," he remarks, with a glint of humor in his expression. "Seems to work fairly well..."

"You're welcome." Irene chimes. They are fantastic biscuits, of course, because Irene's mum made them. They're probably meant to go with tea, given how rock hard and dry they are, but they have a sweet buttery taste that makes up for it - mostly. When Gray and Hunter have helped themselves, she closes her eyes and picks a bottle of beer at random, winning something with a neat label. That's enough to please her. "This is different."

Her gaze flicks right and goes over Lieutenant Reznik, Yelena. There's no recognition, but she lifts the beer in toast-greeting. "Nice to meet you. I'm Iris." And there's no way she's not going to offer the doctor a biscuit too. Miss manners must manner.

The beer Yelena has selected is something dark and bitter. She's using the edge of the table to pop the top off in a fluid, casual motion. No mind is paid to where the cap might have gone. Any dream someone might have had to a perfectly clean lounge is dashed in that moment. The woman lifts the bottle to her lips as the biscuit is offered out and she gives the Virgan pilot a suspicious look before warily accepting the hard tack. After that first drink, she takes a careful bite. A careful, hard bite. "Uh." There's a bit of a cough, then a swallow. "Thank you?" She doesn't sound so sure what to say, but follows it with a slow nod. "Iris, you said?" Another cough and a long drink of beer to wash the biscuit down.

"That they are. Thats a bit of a sampler I brought." Hunter says with a grin. "And gifts usually work pretty well. Better than bullets most time. Unless they happen to be toasters, then I'm happy to give them all the bullets I have." He adds after a thoughtful moment of chewing on a delicious biscuit. He seems to not mind the dry, though he does reach for a cider of some kind to help it go down. Placing the bottle on the table he's about to open it when Yelena pops the top off and almost without thinking about it his hand snaps out to catch the spinning bottlecap.

He pauses a moment.

"Sorry. Reflex." A wink towards Yelena. "Pleasure to meet ya, then. Yelena." He apparently knows enough of the language to pronounce it right. The bottlecap dissipears into his pocket though, maybe he collects them.

Aldrich sets the beer back down after reading the label (psych!) and gives a bit of a grin. "Well, that's very nice of you. Aldrich, by the way. Come by the chapel if I can ever find where it is." He glances to the others to include them in the invitation. "I better go find a good spot before Lyn shows up." Then he's retreating to pick up his things and do just that.

<FS3> Hunter rolls Athletics: Good Success (8 8 7 6 4 2)

Picking out a cider, Gray pops the top and begins drinking slowly. It's a gift, so he's not inclined to rush it too badly...no matter how thirsty he might suddenly find himself. "So, King...where are you from?" he asks, instinctively falling back on addressing the new arrival by last name.

"Should start a collection," Yelena intones when Hunter catches the cap. She moves to perch on the back of the couch, one leg outstretched so she can balance herself on her toe. She lifts her beer for a drink, not bothering for another nibble on the biscuit. She might, later... or she might pilfer it away out of sight. Strange Virgan treats. She's not like to ever understand their potato ways. For the moment, the woman is content to just listen and drink.

Wait, Aldrich, stahp! Irene looks half tempted to rush the priest and stuff a biscuit into his face but somehow manages to stop herself. She'll get him later, if the way she stares intently after him is any indication at all. When he least expects it: BAM! Biscuit. Or she could just hold the packet out so he can nab one before he leaves. She'll do that, but if he misses it...

"Iris!" She did say that was her name. She repeats it, since Yelena seemed confused. That might have been a prompt to provide more detail on her part, but instead she smiles like they're such good friends already that it's completely unnecessary. Biscuit buddies.

"Virgan or Virgin?" he asks, almost on autopilot with another bad joke as he nibbles on a biscuit. "Well, I guess this snack isn't virgin if I'm drinking this..." he says, gesturing to the cider.

"I have one," Hunter replies with a laugh. "From everywhere I've been posted. But as for where I'm from..." He points up towards the ceiling. "Spent most of my life on or above Picon. Of course lately I come by way of Leonis and Tauron. Now back here." The pilot replies with a shake of his head as he pops the cap off his own cider with a bottle opener that looks like a speedboat. "Funny how that works!" There is a pause as he looks after where Irene is starting after Aldrich and a quick of his eyebrow. "You are so going to ambush him later arn't you?"

Again a laugh though at the horrible joke. "No, no it is not if you're drinking. Kinda ruins it doesn't it. Always, what about the rest of you?"

An added bonus, Yelena realizes as Irene holds that packet out for the fleeing chaplain... the longer she holds onto the biscuit, the less likely she is to have another foisted off onto her. Thus, the biscuit remains, in all of its crumbling glory. Does she try another bite? No, no she does not. The doctor just holds it, carefully, between two fingers, carefully not looking at it lest looking at it cause it to grow in size or sprout yeast-y limbs. No, it shall remain away from her personage, held at an angle away from her. Her focus, instead, is on beer and the assembled Wolves in the lounge area of their hotel-like berthings on base. "Transferred from the Kratos," Reznik explains for Hunter's query because, well, based upon the woman's accent, her Tauran origin is likely rather obvious.

Or she's being purposefully, annoyingly obtuse.

"Originally from Sagittaron. Family story is...complicated." There's a reason his accent and appearance don't scream it, for example. Gray shrugs. "Been getting bounced all over the place all war. But then what's new about that?

There's a very solemn nod from Irene. Yes, the ambush is inevitable. No one can escape her. Aldrich does, temporarily, and once he's down one of the hallways, she lowers the packet of rocks masquerading as baked goods and takes the priest's spot on the couch. There she twist shoves the bottle between the cushions so it can't run away too and takes a treat out for herself, to munch on, with her steel teeth.

"Huh." Irene says from her end of the couch, finding everyone's origins curious, apparently. She doesn't offer her own. It might be because of the mention of Sagittaron from Gray.

For Ines, the last twenty-four hours have been an exhausted blur. She hasn't slept in -- a while. Schedule shenanigans with the relocation have meant that she picked up the equivalent of a double shift, between Alert and CAP and who knows what else. She's finally had time to collect her things, so there's a big regulation duffel over her shoulder when she appears, most of the rest of her gear stored elsewhere as appropriate. She's just had a shower, hair damp and clipped up, and she's wearing off-duty fatigues, shuffling vaguely in the direction of the improvised barracks. Slowly. Half-asleep already.

"Arn't we all, Nobody. Arn't we all." Hunter says towards Grey with a grin, amused at the antics of Irene. She's at least compleatly honest about the ambush. And Hunter seems to have little problem with the baked goods that seem to be made of rocks. They still taste amazing and thats enough for him.

Raising his cider he chuckles. "And now you're stuck here, eh Yelena?" A pause. "In this fantastic barracks..."

A familiar figure distracts him from what he was going to be saying and he laughs. "Correa! I told you I'd find the place didn't I?"

...well that might wake her up.

"Seems just fine," Yelena says, of the barracks. She is not trying to eat the rock. Nope. The rest of them can gnaw away, but she is making no further attempts. She has a Piconese beer to nurse. The Tauran doctor looks to the door as a cool breeze comes through, studying the new, tired arrival. "Weather's better than Scorpia." A rarity, truly, for someone to think that way.

The trick seems to be to snap a corner off the biscuit and let it soften in one's mouth before trying to actually chew it. That's how Irene seems to do it, anyway, since she's got no accompanying cup of tea (a tragedy in itself, but she's coping). "It's really nice, and the weather isn't boil-your-brains-in-your-head hot. When I heard this was the destination-" She was obviously very happy about it. She'd have said as much, but there's Ines and she has to wave at her and call out too, "Kes!"

Slow blink. Sleepy blink. It's a moment for Ines' thoughts to catch up with what her senses are telling her, but it's entirely possible to see when it does happen: she straightens out of her slouch and double-takes at Hunter, specifically, then does a circuit of the people nearest him. She has a definite deer-in-headlights look about her. "Oh. Uh, good!" Irene gets a tentative smile, but she doesn't cross that way quite yet. "You've met King, I see. Helping him get settled in?"

She doesn't recognize Yelena or Gray, but she shares the little smile with them, and waves her free hand.

"I came bearing gifts that were accepted by the natives," Hunter calls out as he gestures to a case of various types of Picon beer that is quickly being depleated. "Come on and share if you like! Thats what I brought them for." He's smiling, and not really catching the double-take.

Its likely just cause she's sleepy. Yup. Thats what it is.

"Yes. He's going to wrestle Bingo to determine who gets the other bed in my room. I think." Irene replies, tone airy and amused both. "Are you two friends?" Then after a long hard peer at the near zombified viper pilot, she arches a brow, "Or you know, you can sleep there for now because you look appalling, Kes. Like, not good at all." There's a look to the medical professional at that point, as if she wants her official opinion on the matter.

Natives? Are they natives? Yelena doesn't think she qualifies. Do any of them? The woman processes as she steps away from the sofa and towards the table of beers. Under the pretenses of kneeling to pick up a non-existent bottle cap, she slips her nibbled biscuit under a wobbly table leg. Look at that! No more wobble! She straightens, pointing at Hunter with her bottle. "Didn't you say you're from Picon?" She draws her drink back in for a long sip. Swallows. "That makes you the native." And since Irene is looking her way, she moves swiftly and definitively away from the scene of the crime with a fresh beer in hand, offering it to the pilot whom she does not know. "You probably should get some sleep. Especially if you're on duty roster in the morning."

"I love how we're the natives and /we/ just got here!" Gray muses. Not to mention that they don't know what their sleeping arrangements are supposed to be, blah blah blah... Taking another sip of the cider, he thinks for a moment. "So, let's see...if we're the natives, are you from Caprica?" Beat. "Nah, as mom would probably point out...you brought beer and cider, not shiny stuff."

"He's- what?" Drowsy bafflement on the part of Ines, who glances from Irene to Hunter and back again, trying to discern how serious the purported wrestling contest might actually be. Are you friends? gets another blink, and then an uneasy look. "We...I knew him in flight school. Briefly." It occurs to her only after the fact that this is tantamount to saying they aren't friends, which seems extremely rude, so she backtracks. "I mean -- sort of. We're friendly?" Are they, though? She glances at Hunter again and seems prepared to keep digging herself a big fat hole to fill with awkwardness, but Yelena saves her with a bottle, for which she gets a grateful look out of all proportion with the gesture. "Thanks. Yeah. I'm heading that way, I'm just...I'm not sure where the room is. Fourteen? Fourteen-something?"

"I have no idea what a Bingo is," Hunter supplies with a laugh and a shake of his head. "But I'm going to guess they are bigger than me. Besides, I thought bringing gifts means I don't have to fight for beds." A pause. "Besides, I stowed most of my kit in room..." He frowns slightly. "...well I think it was..." And right as Kes speaks. "Fourteen something."

A beatpause.

Well thats awkward.

"But yeah. We were in flight school together. Back before we both got bounced around so much." The pilot replies with a shrug. He would stop there but Kes just keeps on talking. And Hunter just keeps on grinning and looking amused.

"Why don't you sit down, Correa." A beatpause. "And look, most of you have been in this outfit longer than me. Therfor natives. And I'm the newcommer." A smirk. "My logic is infallible. If you drink enough at least."

"Huuuuuuuh." Irene says to all that, which isn't really a word, proper, but definitely an expression of curiosity being piqued. That might actually be more interesting than if they were simply friends. There might be stuff and things and mysterious mysteries to learn of. Later. For now, she's mostly just going to smile pleasantly, in the way she usually does, all sunshine and lollipops. The only time that's interupted is when she finally has a sip of her otherwise neglected for biscuits beer. Then after, when she lifts her hand and points down one of the hallways, pronouncing with a funny sort of gravity, "Fourteen is down there."

winning. No one has noticed, nor spoken of the biscuit-turned-rock-turned-table stabilizer. Yelena keeps a straight face to make sure Ines gets her drink. "Fourteen?" She looks to the halls as if trying to guess which direction that might be. Thankfully, Hunter speaks up and she cants her head his way. "He'll be your tour guide for the evening. And then the man is speaking of them being with the outfit longer and she gives a quick, clipped bark of laughter. "I was transferred in just over their last layover. I have no frakkin' clue who's who. 'Cept the chaplain. We met in the Foreign Legion."

<FS3> Ines rolls Composure: Good Success (8 7 7 6 5 5 5 4 4)

Faye is walking through the halls with her duffel over her shoulder, counting as she goes. "One. Two. Seven." A few more, "Eight." And then she spots the group of people and so it's a bee-line as she calls out, "Iris, am I bunked with you and where are we because I don't know?" She shifts the duffel to her other shoulder and gives a smile around. She also looks like she's bundled up in at least four layers. Maybe eight.

Sudden humor does a great deal to alleviate the worst of the heaviness in Ines' exhausted face. "Oh, yes," she says, solemn, arching a brow at the newest Viper pilot over the top of her bottle. "Bingo's a monster. Irene's very dapper date, you know? With a fabulous moustache. You shouldn't have agreed to go up against Bingo on the mats. You're going to get destroyed. Bingo's very...territorial."

She takes the time to have a sip of the contents of the bottle -- she didn't even check to see what it is -- and then glances at Yelena. "I'm Ines."

And thennnnn Hunter mentions which room he is in, and her expression flattens out into a taut neutral.

"I'm going to sleep," she announces, officially unable to even.

"So many here from the Legion, I guess I can't complain. At least I'm used to that!" Hunter calls with a laugh as he downs a swig of the cider he's picked. Its starting to run low. "As for tours...uhhh..." And he glances at Ines where she wobbles with her beer. "...I'm not sure she's long for this world..." He says slowly...

Which is right when Ines decides to go on about this mythical Bingo. Lowly Hunter raises a bottle to his lips as his eyebrow arcs up in question. He is about to say something when Faye comes bouncing down the hall looking like she's wearing every one of her clothes.

A glance at Ines. A glance at Faye. Then back at Ines. "Funny. I don't see a mustache." He points out. "But..." A grin at Faye. "...come on and join us. I brought gifts of beer. Name's Hunter!" But before he can say anything else Ines gives him a /look/.

And now he's confused.

His expression says it all. 'What did I do?!'

Oh, it's Faye! Irene carefully climbs over the couch, not wanting to spill her beer or drop her biscuits. She manages to avoid both of those small tragedies and since she did, and isn't now curled up in a ball on the floor crying, she beelines for her bunkmate. "Faye! We're down there." Which is, the hallway she points down once she's properly spun herself to face it. It takes two full heel spins to do so because she misses it the first time. "I think I'll go tidy up. My stuff is all over your bed and mine, and the floor." So that's sort of rude. She wave-shakes her beer at everyone, "Nice to meet you guys. Kes, sleep tight. Thanks, Stingray!"

"Yelena," the woman offers back to Ines. "Reznik. Doctor. If you're lucky, you won't see much of me." Though it's more a 'if I'm lucky, I won't see much of you.' She likes lazy days. She looks from the half-asleep woman to Faye, in all her layers. Lifting her drink, the Tauran downs a fair bit. She hasn't got enough in her yet.

<FS3> Faye rolls Acting+Presence: Great Success (7 6 6 6 6 2 1 1)

Faye looks toward Hunter, and frowns, there's a slow shake of her head and then she shrugs. "What? A mustache? OH! OH! You mean Dirk?!" She scowls, looking toward Irene, "You told me that he was only taking you to the dance! Are you meaning to tell me that he's here too?!" She stops her foot and starts stalking off in the direction of their bunk with the duffel still slung over her shoulder.

"I know that he was only doing it because he loved you Irene, but I really think that I was wrong about him." She glances back to the blonde Raptor pilot, "I think he really did want to tank your Father's company, and not just because of your step mom's infidelity that resulted in your step sister putting your sister in her second coma. Did you get a chance to visit her before you left home?"

Gray grins. "I think if we're all lucky we don't see the doc for anything more than a hangover cure..." Beat. "Not that she's not a lovely human being, but...well, I've been getting to know a lot of medics too well this year."

Under any other circumstances, Ines would fix Faye with an accusing look when she waltzes in, all unknowing, and compromises Ines' carefully constructed ruse. Not today: the moment she finishes telling the world she's going to sleep, she lifts the completely full bottle in her hand and makes a valiant push to drain it. She succeeds in the end, though it's obviously a struggle, and when she's finished she leans over to put it down with a clack on the table. "Nice to meet you, doc," she manages, through a voice slightly hoarse after the effort of downing the drink. "If I'm lucky or very unlucky, I suppose. I'm a pilot." There's not usually a lot left for a doctor to do, when pilots get very unlucky, after all.

And with that she's already sleepily but determinedly walking down the hallway previously identified as the right one for her, not so much as a fare-thee-well for anyone, even Irene and Faye, engaged in their -- that thing that they do. Not a verbal one, at least: she lifts one hand high over her head, just for a moment. That's probably supposed to be some kind of 'goodbye.'

Hunter is confused.

This is not an unnatural state for him, but he's confused by several things all at once. First would be Ines' about face. Then Faye's sudden launching into some kind of soap opera like speach has him compleatly nonplussed.

He just slowly tilts back the rest of his cider to polish it off. All the while looking between Faye, Irene, and Ines.

Then there is a deep sigh. This is going to get confusing.

Its going to suck if someone finds out his nickname happens to be 'Dirk'.

Blame his siblings.

"I think...I should move the rest of my stuff into somewhere. Before someone throws my stuff out. As for you doc," A flash of a grin. "Yeah, I hope you stay not busy. But...its a pleasure to meet ya all...I'm pretty sure this won't be boring at all." A wave towards the nearly empty case of beers. "...help yourself to the rest."

He can always find more.

There's a sidelong look to Gray and Yelena smirks, absently. "Flatter me all you want, but I'm not giving you more morpha." Depending on the situation, he might be lucky to get any. The joys of a former mob doc aboard. Er... on base? She downs the rest of her beer, moving towards a trash bin to drop the bottle with a dull thud in the otherwise empty receptacle. She dips her head to Ines. "I'd piece you back together." Frankenstein style! The woman moves to pick up her duffel and backpack from the sofa, grunting under the effort of hefting them. "Alright, who wants to help me find a room to invade?"

Unexpected plot twist: "I love Dirk now! It turns out he's actually Aiden, because after the accident that everyone thought he'd died in, he had plastic surgery to look like Dirk so he could stop him from destroying father's company and expose his-" And Irene's reached her room by the time she gets to that part, trails off and wanders inside, announcing authoritatively, "This is my desk now!"

"WHAT?!" comes the shriek of a Bingo, "You love Dirk now?! But he can't be Aiden! There's no way!" She starts stomping off after her, "Because I was dating Aiden back when your father was having the affair with his secretary before she became your step mother and that was after the accident that Dirk died in! So who was it if it wasn't Aiden? I mean I suppose that it's possible that~" and she's trailing off too as she enters the room. A thump as she sets down her duffel. "Fine this is my chair!"


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