2238-03-04 - The Things We Can't Fix

Three soldiers picking up the pieces of the lives they left behind go out for drinks. It might be easier if they had any certainty that they'd get to keep those pieces long enough to put them back together.

Date: 2238-03-04

Location: The Ship And Castle

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 1676

Jump to End

You should come with us into town sometime, Ines had suggested, and so it was arranged that they'd meet up here at the pub tonight. With everyone on light or restricted duty since their return, it was easier than usual to coordinate schedules. No CAPs or sickbay rotations to get in the way. Without duty as an excuse to keep busy, Cate's been spending a lot of time between sickbay and the auxiliary hangar serving as temporary refugee quarters. She's also been a fixture on the couch in the barracks. Does the girl ever sleep? Maybe not much, judging from the circles under her eyes. She's arrived at the pub a little early, in jeans and a blouse with her uniform jacket draped over the back of her chair.

-

There are odd things about being away from civilization that feel extremely alien, but also exceptionally familiar. Being around people -- even if the number of people is limited by it being a small town -- is definitely one of the former for Gage, a kind of tension visible through his shoulders as they approach the pub -- not that he'd ever admit it, certainly not with the equally determined pilot at his side. He's wearing a plain blue tee and khaki pants, no longer favoring his leg but only just starting to resume slow runs around the base grounds in between spending time with Ines and Nate. "Hope they've still got decent beer here," he mutters, like somehow in the interim they might've run out of stock. He squints as he steps inside, spotting Cate and navigating that way.

-

It's still a weekend evening, so the populace off-base is determinedly squeezing in the last, precious moments of a common day off. Pedestrian traffic is not uncommon. To look at Ines, one would never guess at the way in which she spent her last month. For one thing, she's wearing civilian clothes, finally -- a light, slightly loose sweater in a soft green and a pair of figure-hugging jean leggings -- and they cover for all of those fresh scars she has. She's pretty good at covering for the other less physical ones, too.

"Well, if not, we'll switch bars." Pause. "If there are other bars. If not, King always seems to know how to get his hands on-" And then she spots Cate and waves, angles a smile around Gage's arm as they pass through the door.

-

Seeming to share in some of Gage's tension, Cate's eyes flit around the bar with a subdued wariness. She's quick to notice the pair entering, and lifts a hand to signal them over to her table. "Hey," she greets when they (presumably) come closer. A faint smile is offered, and she notes, "You're looking better, Ines. Got some more color back." Gage gets a nod as well.

-

"Aint seen another bar here, unless the locals are hiding them in their attics or something." Which, granted, apparently wouldn't surprise Gage, because, "Aint sure what else they'd do, so maybe." There's a faint tension in his jaw as they move through the busy bar, though it eases marginally as he slumps down onto a seat at Cate's table. "Rhodes," he greets, with a flickered, if genuine smile. He studies her, longer than he usually might, rubbing a hand over his beard-that-doesn't exist before he catches the gesture. "Getting any sleep?" he asks, blandly.

-

The smile Ines shoots Cate is small but warm, and it sticks around as an echo in her expression once she draws a chair out and sinks down into it. "Thanks. I feel better. Almost myself." Once she's scooted her chair in she leans forward and sets her elbows on the table's edge, hands loosely clasped, and tucks her crossed feet underneath her chair while she circuits the room with curious eyes. They return when Gage poses that question, taking a moment to absorb the faint, sleepless bruises underneath the medic's eyes. She doesn't add a question on top, though.

-

"I'm glad," Cate says to Ines' assertion that she's feeling better, a small yet sincere smile lingering. She takes a moment to catch a passing waitress' eye with an upnod - presumably confirming that their party has now all arrived - before addressing Gage's question. It doesn't seem to surprise her; she hears it a lot, and her answer seems just slightly rehearsed. "Some. Still kinda strange being back. Too good to be true, y'know?" Then she's shifting the question to Gage, "What about you? How's the leg?" Her own right forearm is still in a cast. That and some bruises on her jaw are the only visible signs of the final fight at the ranch.

-

"Yeah," Gage allows, grimacing by way of agreement, "Passing strange," he grunts. "I know one thing that'll help, though," the Tauran declares, as the waitress comes over. He makes an order -- some sort of Tauran drink -- three shots -- and a pitcher of beer. While they wait for the drinks, his weight shifts. "All right. Getting there. Doc says I should keep it rested a bit longer." Hence, presumably, the running on it, because when has he ever listened to helpful advice? His gaze flickers towards Ines -- hard to tell whether he's checking her mood or trying to tell her something -- before he eases awkwardly back. "Heard the Chaplain aint doing so good."

-

"Very strange," Ines agrees, a murmur she's about to follow up with something else. She doesn't, because that's when Cate flags down the waitress; she reaches for the usual small bar menu, dragging it closer to flip through the laminate pages while she bites on the inside of her cheek, indecisive. It's just one of the many aforementioned strangenesses: uncertainty borne of an embarrassment of choices. Gage spares her the need to decide, though, and she doesn't look put off by it, either, setting the menu aside and leaning into the fold of her arms.

Still thoroughly attuned to the gestures of the marine she spent a month tailing, she glances up when he looks at her, quirks a half-smile, lids her eyes.

The smile wanes, though, at mention of Aldrich. "I went to see him," she admits, glancing up at Cate. "After I saw you last."

-

Cate seems content with the drink order, for she doesn't add anything onto it. When Gage comments about his leg, a tiny smirk appears. "Ah, yeah. Must be why I saw you out jogging on it." It's probably pretty clear that it's meant as good-natured ribbing, despite her somber mood. After all, when has Cate ever followed doctors' orders herself? When the topic shifts to the chaplain, though, her face falls. "Yeah," is her solemn agreement, brows lifting in a curious but silent prompt when Ines mentions seeing him.

-

"What do doctors know, right?" Gage retorts with a wry smile deliberately aimed at Cate. He gives a shift of shoulders by way of easy dismissal, taking the ribbing in stride. He, too, glances at Ines when she mentions seeing him. "Haven't managed to catch up with Arda yet," he says, carefully. The waitress comes back to the table, setting three small shotglasses down in the middle, then a pitcher of beer and three normal-sized glasses. Gage reaches for the shot glasses first, handing them out, frowning. "Toast?" he prompts the others, while he grunts like he can't think of a single thing. The liquid in the shot glass is clear, smelling like strongly alcoholic. Ines might recognize it from the smell alone as the same drink he challenged her to imbibe the night of the CF anniversary party.

-

That curious look gets a beat of Ines sitting there with parted lips before they curve into an apologetic smile. "I...doubt there's anything I could tell you that you don't already know." She pushes her shoulders forward in approximation of a shrug, then glances up at the arrival of the drinks, reaching for the shot glass Gage passes her with obvious curiosity. As usual, confronted with a food or drink item she's unfamiliar with, her first act is to sniff it, and when she does-

"Oh gods, it's the pickled foot liquor!" Eloquent features crumple into a preemptive whimper of an expression, but she still picks the shot glass up, apparently committed to making poor decisions tonight. Still, though: "Why!" And then, grudgingly, because she totally believed the lie he sold her, back then: "No offense to Tomak's home town, of course." She directs a sad, contemplative look down into the glass. "You should come up with the toast, probably. All I want to toast anymore is hot water."

-

Cate hehs softly at Gage, though it seems a little forced. "Not a damn thing." Then she's shifting her gaze back to Ines, offering an understanding nod. She starts to reach for her shot glass, but pauses with a raised eyebrow at Ines' reaction. "You trying to poison us, Tomak?" She grabs the glass anyway, then says, "I suck at toasts." Then she seems to remember something, and rattles off a short phrase in Celtan. After a beat, she translates, "Drink up, basically."

-

"It's got medicinal properties," Gage says with a practiced kind of defensiveness -- accompanied by a quirk of lips -- that might well suggest he's putting that part on. "Helps with sleeplessness. You slept just fine last time you tried it, right?" After the dozen or so drinks she'd already had, anyway. He lifts his free hand, palm up, at Cate's accusation. "Just trying to help, doc." His brow furrows when she gives her toast, and, after a moment, he adds one in Tauran: <<May tomorrow be less frakked up than today.>> He adds his toast, then translates, "Basically the same." Sort of. He slams the shot down, eyes watering at the strength of the liquid and the liquorice aftertaste that lingers. Almost immediately, he's pouring the beers as a chaser.

-

Ines still burbles a few notes of theatrical not-really-crying before she throws the shot back, features pinched with distaste before the glass is even to her lips. Her eyes are still squeezed shut once it's down, not a single breath taken between that moment and the one in which her carefully wandering fingertips seek and find her beer glass and raise it-

-and find it empty. Which means she has to take a breath, which means she tastes it, and her eyes instantly water. "No," she manages to say, the word threadbare. It's not in answer to anything specific, apparently; it's just a blanket refusal of everything to do with what just happened.

She gets over it quickly enough. The alcohol content no doubt helps, all of that searing burning straight down into the cage of her ribs. "If you think that's bad," she tells Cate, reaching to drag her now-filled glass over, "You're going to love the remedy tomorrow." She swishes the sip of beer she takes around in her mouth before swallowing. "Whatever it was. It works, but is it worth it? I still can't decide."

-

Cate smirks briefly back at Gage. "Well. Ines survived, so I suppose I'll take my chances." Since she speaks not a lick of Tauron, she can only take Gage's word for the toast. "So say we all," she agrees, and knocks back the shot afterwards. The face she makes is not one of an instant fan of the drink, but it's not quite as theatrically amusing as Ines' reaction. "That... isn't the worst drink I've had. I don't dare to ask what sort of feet are pickled in it, though." Then she hehs softly to Ines. "I don't plan on drinking enough to need a remedy, but thanks for the warning."

-

Gage, for his part, downs fully half of his beer before he sets it down, looking smirkingly satisfied at Ines' mention of a remedy. "Aint found a local place that has that yet. Turns out aint much call for local Tauran rememdies in the backwaters of Picon." These are the things regrets are made up of. "Cheer up, aint got no duties to get to tomorrow, right?" That's directed as much to Ines as it is to Cate, particularly at her indication she doesn't intend to drink much. "More than a month without alcohol, probably won't take much anyway," he adds, after a musing moment. After a beat of silence: "How's Baka?" He's kept an odd kind of distance from the dog he was so attached to, since coming back.

-

"I wasn't planning on it," Ines mulls, tilting her glass to look at the way the light filters through the rich hues of the contents, "But I may have changed my mind." Though Gage is probably right: it's not going to take much. It never does with Ines, anyway; factor in their recent privations and she's probably going to be lucky to get through that glass.

She's seen Baka since getting back, but she still glances at Cate when Gage poses that question, and then her eyes slide off of the medic and out into the room again -- probably the first and only overt indication that she's not quite as at-ease with their surroundings as she's managing to seem.

-

"All the more reason not to drink too much," Cate points out to Gage with a crooked smirk. Though she does pull one of the beer glasses closer to her. "He's fine. He misses you." How Cate would have surmised this is anyone's guess. Seeing Ines' gaze wander the room, she frowns a touch and then ventures tentatively, "Do you guys... feel safe here?"

-

Gage gives a little grunt at Cate's words about Baka missing him. Hard to tell if the grunt is disagreement or mere acknowledgement. It makes him drain the remainder of his glass, either way, reaching for the pitcher to refill his glass, then the other's, in turn. It's Cate's words that make him tense, noticeably, for a moment. "Aint comfortable," is all he admits to, gruffly, not looking at either of them.

-

The extra weight in Ines' glass whens he lifts it is what makes her glance back at the table, and then up, at Cate, to weigh the question she's being asked. She quirks a smile, rueful but also wry. "I actually do," she decides, after a moment. "But I'm still uncomfortable. Mostly because-" There's a short pause, and then a quiet laugh into her glass, mostly breath. Subdued. She's still smiling when she says the words, eyes angled down.

"Because, for instance, yesterday I went off-base for lunch, and this man at the next table over was throwing a fit about how his coffee wasn't hot. As though that were the most awful thing that could happen to a person, you know? And for just a moment, I had this very vivid fantasy of choking him into unconsciousness."

Sip.

When she glances upward she lets the rue overtake the smile. "I mean. I wouldn't. But I think it's safe to say I'm adjusting, yes."

-

Cate watches their reactions. A barely-perceptible nod acknowledges Gage's remark, and she manages a small snicker to Ines' story. "Yeah. Everything's relative I guess." She picks up her beer glass and takes a drink. "You guys been by to see Nate?" she asks then, changing the subject.

-

The noise that Gage makes definitely isn't disapproval or judgement. No, he's laughing. "Sounds like something I'd do," he says, after a moment, rubbing at his shaved-head, still not used to the feeling of the lack of long hair. "Think you've been spending too much time with me, Correa," he concludes, glancing at the pilot with a look that conveys probably a bit more fondness than he'd be comfortable with if he were aware how obvious it was. Shoulders shifting, he exhales at Cate's question. "Yeah, saw him earlier in the day. He's a tough little fr-- he'll manage. I think he's nervous about what comes next. Orphanage, I guess, since he seemed vague about other family." It draws his expression into an unconscious scowl.

-

"Way too much time." Ines agrees immediately, but the wry, feline smile that follows, eyes dropping back down into her glass as she lifts it, is a far less subtle thing than whatever a person might glean from Gage's famously impassive face. She's reduced the contents of that glass by half again when she joins in on the conversation again, but since it was halfed before Gage refilled it, she's probably a full glass and a shot along, so the clock is officially ticking down the seconds until she's legitimately intoxicated. "I sent off a slew of letters today. Authors. They're all going to think I'm mad." She almost leaves things there, then realizes at the last second, setting the glass down to explain for Cate, amused. "Tomak told Nate I'd get him into a book."

-

"You're a bad influence, clearly," Cate ribs Tomak dryly. She nods to Gage, frowning sadly at the thought of Nate's future. "Yeah. I was telling Ines - they've got a special department for the war orphans, out of Queenstown. They resettle the ones they can with foster families, have group homes in the refugee areas for the others. I've dealt with some of their people before. They do what they can." She gulps down some more of her beer and muses glumly, "I'd take them both in if I could." Then she's distracted by Ines. "A book?" She blinks, obviously confused.

-

Gage is halfway through swallowing a mouthful of beer when Ines reveals her letter writing campaign. It makes him cough, briefly, then give her a sidelong look. "That's... good." His gaze drops as she explains to Cate, tacking on, "Kid needed something to focus on that night. Seemed like a good distraction." Except now they have to follow through, which thankfully relies a lot more on Ines' ability convince others than his. He looks thoughtful at Cate's explanation about the local arrangements. "Yeah, figured something like that. Both?" that last is directed to the doctor, frowning.

-

The tremble of Ines' shoulders is as much of the laugh that Gage's cough will get from her, but it's enough. "Because of Cage Lowjack," she adds, just in case Gage thought he could get through that part of the conversation without her lording her interim victoryin The Great Prank War of 2238 over him in front of someone else. She drills her fingertips on the side of the glass once, previously dirty, ragged nails manicured back into neatness tinking quietly on the curvature.

She doesn't delve into it further than that, at least, reaching for the pitcher for an ill-advised refill of her glass. "The little girl?" She's guessing, but there's interest -- and quiet sympathy -- in her eyes as she glances at Rhodes. She manages not to spill anything even though she stops looking at her pour, so that's something.

-

Cate looks between the two of them, a little lost at first until she remembers. "Oh, riiiight... that romance novel. I'd forgotten." Then she puts two and two together. "You did that?" she asks Ines with a little chuckle. The humour is short-lived though, for the talk of the kids gets a somber nod. "Yeah," she confirms with a wave of her hand toward Ines. Then to Gage she elaborates, "There was this little girl we picked up back in Havison. When me and Izzy and Delgado were stranded there. Poor thing was so traumatized she wouldn't speak. Followed me around like a shadow the whole time we were there. I send her messages when I can."

-

Gage's scowl is genuine, for all that it doesn't contain a great deal of real heat behind it. Besides, it's little victories, like his, "She reckons she didn't write it, but she's a weird obsession with cucumbers, so I'm not convinced," observation to Cate. He takes the pitcher and refills his glass, setting it on his side of the table, further from Ines. Maybe he's helping to spare her the pain of a worse hangover tomorrow. Or maybe -- more likely -- he just wants to soak up more of the beer for himself.

The Tauran's silent for a while after Cate finishes explaining about her experience in Havison. "Tough, leaving them behind. Got to, though." Hard to say whether he means that as reassurance for her or to help convince himself.

-

It's not the first time that a cucumber-related incident nearly killed Ines -- just the first time it wouldn't have been from embarrassment, because she chokes on the sip of beer she has in her mouth. Which is not to say that there's no embarrassment, either, or at least a very close cousin of it -- her cheeks flush. Charitably that could be written off as a consequence of either her drinking or choking, but that sort of charity isn't the strong suit of the table. She doesn't even notice when he removes the pitcher; she's too busy shooting him a daggered look of accusation, which she punctuates with a brief glance at Cate, like she's trying to see whether or not the medic actually bought that.

All of the drinking and choking has left her voice husked a little when she speaks next. "I think the hardest part of doing this is having to stomach all of the things we can't fix."

-

Cate squints a little. "Cucumbers? I'm afraid to ask." Especially given Ines' reaction. It's a welcome distraction from the other topic, as Cate finishes off what's in her glass. She nods to them both, though. "Yeah. That was always the shittiest part of being a doctor too. Can't save everyone. Sometimes there's frak-all we can do." She frowns at her empty glass.

There's something satisfied, if brief, in the veiled gaze Gage gives Ines, the corner of his lips twitching for a moment. Maybe his moratorium on alcohol extends to Cate too, since he refills his glass but doesn't offer to do the same when she stares at the bottom of her empty one. "Even when you are in a position to fix it, shit's gonna come down on you." It's clear he's thinking about Ryan and all the rumors thereof, voice noteably neutral. "Heard people speculating the Wolves are done for -- that they're going to roll us back into the CF, maybe back to our home militaries."

-

Eyes the color of sea glass angle up and sidelong, toward the Tauran, when he speculates about the consequences of the purportedly unofficial rescue -- the rumors they've all heard, without anything definite one way or another. Ines' swallow is visible, though the rest of her expression fails to change save the way she looks down, tracing the path her fingertip cuts through a ring of condensation on the lacquered, scarred surface of the tabletop. Her mouth opens as though she intends to say something, but she seems to change her mind, closing it again and shifting her weight in her chair -- recrossing her ankles under the table, maybe.

-

Cate shrugs at Gage's words of wisdom. "Damned if you do, damned if you don't sometimes." Then her head is snapping up when he talks about the Wolves being done for. "You really think they'd do that? Send us all home?" The medic looks downright alarmed at the prospect. Maybe she should pay more attention to the rumour mill.

-

"Think the brass'd do a lot of dumb shit to save face." Gage says, with a scowl. "If all the models and ex-stars of whatever aren't enough of a indication we're more than half of a PR stunt, well -- whatever comes out of this'll confirm it either way." He's trying for neutral still, but mostly failing, draining the rest of his glass. Hand on the table, he pushes up. "Gonna go get some air for a bit." And he's headed for the door, without a backward glance. Some things change, but some things stay the same.

-

The first thing Gage says, Ines seems to agree with -- not in any kind of vitriolic way, but there's a resigned nod from her, anyway. Institutions, funding, morale, etcetera. The second thing he says gets a slow blink, and an equally slow shift of her eyes that way, without her head turning -- like she can sense something turning in his mood in a more serious manner than the usual grousing. And he all but confirms that moments afterward, anyway, getting up and just leaving her there at the table without so much as a fare-thee-well.

That doesn't seem to surprise her, either, though. And there's no rancor in the way she watches him go, so it's unlikely she's taking that personally, but it's a look fraught with troubled weight, anyway. Enough that she watches the door for a long moment after it bumps closed again behind him.

Eventually she exhales a long, steady breath, shoulders bending, one hand lifting to rub gentle fingertips between her brows. She murmurs something in Leonese, dry and underneath her breath, and then offers the medic a rueful smile. "I think he just ruined his own night. It's remarkable, really. The skill involved." It's a weak joke, though. Probably because she looks like he just ruined hers, too.

-

Cate watches Gage go, a frown lingering on her face. Her night, one might deduce, was not going swimmingly even before then, but it seems on even more unsteady ground now. "I definitely see what you see in him," she remarks with a wry fondness. Cate catches the waitress' attention and when the woman comes over asks for a glass of whiskey. So much for her resolution not to drink too much. Questioning eyes flick to Ines to see if she wants anything else herself. Once the waitress has wandered off, Cate says, "This is the same brass that was talking about leaving us back there. I'm not going to hold my breath. Frak. I can't go back to Virgon." She rubs her forehead, a headache brewing.

-

In spite of herself, Cate surprises a laugh out of Ines with that first remark. It's a laugh that comes with a guilty wince, but it still comes, and she nods at the waitress and makes a vague gesture that says 'bring me something' without going so far as to be specific. Probably this will result in a second glass of whiskey. "He's..." She shifts uneasily. "Really...a remarkable man. And a remarkable soldier. He works very hard to make it difficult to tell." That last bit simultaneously is and is not a joke, enough seriousness in it to make it clear she's not entirely in jest.

She mulls over the rest in heavy silence, staring at nothing in particular -- some unfixed point in space off to one side of the table, close to the ground. It takes her a while to produce any kind of response, and even then all she has is: "Yeah." It's utterly insufficient, so she tries again, and this time all she can fish up is the obvious: "Nothing we can do until we know for sure."

-

Cate hehs softly. "No, I know," she comments, glancing towards the door. "He's a good guy. Just too gruff for his own good. Reminds me of someone I used to know." There's a faint smile there briefly, then she's thanking the waitress who drops off two glasses of whiskey. Cate nods to the last. "Yeah. Maybe they'll get their heads out of their asses. Or maybe they'll just send us to one of the other CF posts. Back to Galactica maybe. That wouldn't be so bad. My... friend is there." The hesitation, coupled with a furrowed brow, suggests that she finds that description somehow inadequate. A gulp of the whiskey proves a good distraction from that.

-

This glass of whiskey is a terrible mistake. It would have been a mistake already, but it seems as though there may be thorny territory involving an irritable Tauran to negotiate later, maybe, possibly, and so it's even more terrible, as life decisions go. Ines is going to drink it anyway. It may be the only way she survives. Statistically, people are more likely to walk away from a bad wreck when they're inebriated, right? Because they go limp rather than tensing up? So there's science, too. Science says she ought to drink this glass of whiskey.

What Cate says, as Ines has her first scientifically-justified sip o whiskey, brightens some of the shadows in the pilot's expression. Not all of them, but enough. "Think so?" Pause. "I wouldn't mind that. As long as they-" Pause. "As long as they keep us together."

And then, with the overt archness that comes along with all of the alcohol she's had, she perks a brow and charges into the breach: "Your....friend, huh." She emphasizes the pause and everything. Clearly, she's assuming this is something absolutely torrid. And maybe that's a good distraction from the thing that she doesn't want to think about.

-

"Yeah. I hope they do." Keep them together, that is. "But I dunno. Like you said - nothing we can do about it either way." Cate winces a little at the probing question, taking another drink to stall long enough to gather her thoughts. It's a task that the whiskey certainly isn't helping with. As Gage said earlier, her tolerance isn't what it used to be. "Yeah. Um. This guy. A marine. I guess... he's kinda my boyfriend." Her awkward uncertainty is obvious.

-

"Yeah, Rhodes," Ines says, wry. "I kinda caught th-" Pause. Her eyes slowly narrow. "But, I thought y-" And then her mind catches up to her tongue and she shakes her head, lifting a hand palm outward, as though it had been Cate who was about to ask the question. "No. I'm not going to pry!" Which is a very noble sort of way to cover for the fact that she almost asked a really dumb question, actually.

Instead, she lifts her tumbler and tilts it. "I'll just hope that we're Galactica-bound, then, if we've got to be shuffled somewhere." There's a pause, and an equally awkward, but simultaneously very amused half-smile from her as she says, "I know all about kinda boyfriends." And with that she downs the remainder of her glass in the hope she won't remember what she just said later, plants her hands on the table, and rises. "Come on, Cate. Let's go play a round or two of darts. I'm- seventy percent sure I won't accidentally tag someone with a dart." Pause. "No, eighty-five percent."

-

Cate's brow furrows in a confused peer at Ines' reaction. A sensible person might leave well enough alone, but perhaps in some part due to the mostly-empty glass of whiskey now before her, Cate prompts with curious suspicion, "What'd you think?" She glances towards the dartboard then, and shrugs. "Yeah, okay. I'll be sure to stay behind you then," she says with a soft heh.

-

"I-" Pause. "Can't remember." She's lying. But now that she's realized what she was going to say and how very, very stupid it was, there's no way she's going to fess up, and on top of that she's too drunk to come up with a better reason not to. But, hey, look! Darts! She throws what she hopes is a distractingly mischievous smile over her shoulder as she weaves through the tables on this new adventure. Multipurpose, as it happens. She's determined to salvage her evening, and Cate's; she invited the medic out for drinks, and it's something she does rarely enough that it would be a shame to end it on a sour note. If doing so also handily creates a buffer of a couple of hours before she inevitably goes looking for the irate Tauran marine, then really: two birds, one stone, as they say.

-

Cate gives Ines a suspicious look, but lets it go. Because there are darts! And another glass of whiskey that she coopts a passing waitress into retrieving for her. Cate's more than happy to leave that awkward subject behind in favor of something safer, and although she doesn't give Ines as much of a buffer as she might've been hoping for, she at least hangs in there for a couple rounds of darts. "I should probably be heading back. And you should probably go make sure Tomak isn't terrorizing the townsfolk," she declares dryly, fishing out some cubits for the bill. "Thanks for hanging out though."

-

True to her word, Ines doesn't actually hit anyone with the darts. She also doesn't play an especially stellar game, but the fact that she's on the board at all at her present level of intoxication is probably good enough as results go.

She counts out cubits of her own to add to the pile -- that Tauran left without paying for what he drank! What a jerk! -- and then reaches to one-arm hug Rhodes. The medic let her give a hug once, so she's stuck with that forever, apparently. "Yeah. We'll do it again...sometime." But will they? Will there be time? She presses her lips together and smiles a dilute smile. "See you, Rhodes."

And then she's gone, presumably on that likely unenviable errand.


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