Aphrodite's Revenge
Aphrodite's Revenge
Summary: Recent events lead to a tense and confusing encounter between Komnenos and Legacy; Matto comes along to help pick up the pieces.
Date: PHD140
Related Logs: Related Logs (Say None if there aren't any; don't leave blank)

Berthings are, well, berthings. Thea's curled up in her bunk, leaning back against the headboard, propped up against her pillows. There's a book open on her lap, a pen in hand. Looks like she's writing something in what may be a diary? Next to her is a bottle of brandy, the glass next to it half-full.

Footsteps clank lightly on the floor as someone enters. Thorn walks to his bunk, a small duffel bag draped over his shoulder. He places it carefully on his bed, but even that can't disguise the clink of what sounds like glass bottles knocking together softly from inside. Thorn catches something out of the corner of his eye; he turns to look at Legacy reclining in her rack. "Hullo, Captain," he greets her neutrally.

Thea looks up, quirking a brow at the clanking, and studies Thorn for a time. "Evening, Lieutenant," she replies - equally as neutral. No, there's none of her usual smiling.

Uh-oh. Thea doesn't use ranks often… and while that tone is the status quo for Thorn, it isn't so much for the warmer Thea. "Doing all right, sir?" he asks mildly as he carefully removes something from the bag, his back obscuring whatever it may be from view.

The Captain turns her eyes back to the book on her lap, making another notation as she reaches for her drink with the other hand. "Fine, thank you," she replies - tone still neutral. "And you, Lieutenant?"

"I've been better, sir, but I've been worse," Anton replies, surpressing a sigh. So, it's going to be like this, is it? He moves over to his locker with a something-or-other wrapped in cloth in his hands. That telltale clink is audible once again as he opens the door and places whatever it is inside.

There's silence from Thea's bunk for a time, save for the scratch of pen against paper. "So say we all, Lieutenant," is said, finally. Otherwise? She's writing and sipping on her alcohol.

"So say we all," comes the mutter in reply, but there's a hint of weary sarcasm in the Aerelon-accented voice. His boots are kicked off and placed in the locker as well, followed by his uniform blouse a moment later. Something is pulled back out of the locker, a worn-looking paperbook, and then Thorn is headed back to his bunk, crawling in and reaching for a cigarette. His fan is toggled on a moment after it's lit.

After a time, the curtain is drawn on the Captain's bunk. There's the sound of movement, and then all is quiet. Yup, something is certainly up.

"Something wrong, sir?" comes the question from Thorn finally. He knows the answer, of course; he's no fool. Thea's usually not shy about pointing it out when he personally has done something, though; there's a slightly confused expression on his face at he looks down at her rack, or more correctly, the curtain on said rack.

"Not a thing, Lieutenant," comes the quiet reply. No, the sarcasm's not quite dripping, but there's a hint there, along with a slight veneer of disappointment. "Good night." Apparently Thea does NOT want to talk to Thorn tonight.

"Whatever." The disgusted mutter is barely audible, and Thea might not even be able to hear it at all through her curtain. He tries to simply lie back and read his book, but that fails miserably. "I'm not stupid, sir," he offers after a moment, obviously not willing to let things lie. Immovable object, meet irresistable force. "I'm not sure exactly what's wrong, Captain, but please, don't treat me as such."

See, there's a wonderful thing about immovable objects and irresistable forces - they can be ignored. Her curtain is drawn, the light faintly visible from inside. Yet she's not saying a word. Definitely unlike Thea.

Well, the fact that she's not speaking doesn't prevent him from doing the same. "Y' know, I've been noticing something around th' ship lately," he announces after a quiet moment. "I don't seem t' be… th' most popular person on the ship right now. And that's whatever, y' know? But…" A pause. "I never expected you of all people t' up and start treating me like a leper." A little self-pitious, sure. But when Thorn's usual tactics don't work, time to go outside the playbook.

And apparently the outside the playbook tactics aren't working well either - as there's no reply from the Captain's bunk. Dead silence. Well, save for the quiet sound of her glass going back on her shelf, but given the distance, he may not even hear it.

"With your permission, sir, I'm going t' start speaking freely, and if you don't say anything, I'm going t' assume I have it." That's kind of a stretch, and potentially risky to boot, but he's going for it nonetheless. He does at least pause momentarily before he starts, though, to consider his words.

There's the quiet snick of a curtain opening. With her glass in hand, book tucked under her arm, Thea swings her legs to the floor and starts for the door. Apparently he's got his permission to speak freely - she just won't be there to listen. There's a decidedly unreadable expression on the woman's face.

"You're frakkin' serious?" Thorn says in disbelief as he watches her storm out of her bunk. Evidently the off-the-record thing is starting now. "So. Th' prospect of speaking t' me disgusts you that much that you're just going t' walk out? Not even telling me what's got you in such a bloody twist?" He cranes his head out of his rack, a thin-lipped scowl following her towards the hatch. Judging from her expression, leaving the word 'panties' out of the phrase seems like a good idea. "What the hells, Cat?"

The hatch closes very quietly behind the captain. Perhaps a bit -too- quietly. Men can usually deal with women who slam doors. Whatever's got Thea so upset has her shutting the door very quietly, the sound almost final in the quiet berthings. Another Raptor glances over at Thorn and just shakes his head. It's almost a Duuuuuuude look, but it IS rather sympathetic.

"You have got t' be FRAKKIN' KIDDING ME!" Thorn shouts angrily as the hatch closes behind the fleeing captain, and a moment later, in a sudden fit of anger, he chucks his paperback towards the hatch with a wordless scream of helplessness.

"Hey, Kittenf—!" Kissy steps in just as the Captain steps out, but he stops mid-ebulient greeting as he sees That Look on her face. Then the hatch is closed and there's, well, Kissy, standing there, a sack of laundry over a shoulder and another basket of it resting on his hip, trying to dodge flung books without dropping anything.

Thorn only looks on in horror as a figure comes through the hatch right after Thea exits; luckily, Kissy dodges the projectile just in time, and the book bounces harmlessly off the hatch. Thorn's mouth flaps open and closed for a moment before he finally speaks. "Um. Sorry, Kiss, didn't mean t'…" He trails off, his face flashing an embarrassed crimson.

Matto does crazy ninja sidestep the paperback, heading, then, toward Poppy's bunk, putting down the basket of laundry on it before taking the bag to the center table to fold things and put them away. "Do I even want to know what happened?" he wonders.

"She just… ignored me," Thorn replies, clearly stunned by what just happened. "And… when I tried t' talk t' her, she… stormed out." His voice is hushed, and his face, beet red a moment before, has now gone ashen.

"Has everyone on this ship gone insane?" Thorn mutters half to himself, his voice cracking ever so slightly as he asks the question.

Matto stops in the middle of folding up undershirts, setting down the one he's just finished on the top of the stack before drifting closer, hearing that crack in Thorn's voice, "C'mere," he tells him, trying to gether him gently into a soothing hug, if he lets him, "It'll be alright, Anton. Why don't you let me talk to her, see if I can't figure out what's wrong? I know she didn't think that Sam spending the night here was the greatest plan in the world, but I didn't think she was -that- pissed."

At this point, Thorn is too emotionally deflated to protest, and he silently allows Kissy's arms to enfold around him. "She ignored me," he whispers, repeating himself. "Thea. Ignored me." Whoa. Is that a tear streaking down Anton's face? Looks that way. And there are some people on the ship who would probably swear the man doesn't even possess tear ducts. "I mean… of all people…"

Matto preses a warm palm flat to Thorn's back and moves it slowly up and down six inches in either direction in what he hopes to be a soothing gesture, the other arm rising to wrap around to Thorn's shoulder, just where it meets his neck. "Oh, honey," he murmurs, "I'm so sorry."

Shell-shocked is probably the closest thing to describe Thorn's disposition at the moment. He looks over at Matto, bewilderment in his eye. "Could've been almost anyone else… an' I wouldn't care, y' know?" he says finally, his voice cracking again. "But… gods, Kiss… her? Why?"

"I don't know for sure," Kissy sounds almost sorrowful that he's unable to provide Thorn with the answers he wants. "I just don't know. I… assume? It has something to do with her seeing Sam in your bunk. She thought, well… we both thought it was a little soon, after everything that happened. I don't know what happened between you— if anything at all. But still, having someone stay over in your bunk is a public statement, unless— artfully done," he notes. "I think she thinks that public statement is come a little too soon for good taste. Whether that's -all-? Or whether there's something else I don't even know about? I don't know. I just don't." He pulls his lips together tightly.

Anton takes a deep breath and wipes that solitary tear from his face, steadying himself. "Nothing frakking happened, Kiss. We slept. That's all. We were trying t' forget about all this shit that's happened and just enjoy each other's company. But I guess that's just out of the question, huh?"

"I believe you, Anton," Kissy replies, steady-voiced. "We— well, the boy and I— we don't do anything but sleep, either, when we do that together," he reports. "But you have to think of the… symbolism of the thing, I guess. Put the shoe on the other foot for a second. You just got sort of savagely hurt by a girl you'd given up a lot to be with," he posits. "You're so hurt you turn to violence against the person you suspect she's messing around on you with. That's how much it hurts you. There's a breakup afterward, and, what, a week later it comes around (and these things DO get around, Anton, it's not a large ship) that she's staying in his bunk. It doesn't matter whether they fooled around or not, does it? There's a statement involved there, and you can't tell me you can't see it. If you just want to get to know one another better, well, play triad together down in the lounge, or sit with each other at mess, or— any number of things."

Thorn looks at Kissy for a long moment. "Come on, Kiss. Martin was no blushing innocent," he retorts. "I've heard some of the stories. I know there was at least one other person he dallied with while he an' Sam were supposedly together. The two of them have been on and off more times'n… well, enough times. How was I supposed t' know I happened t' come along at one of th' 'on' times? She never mentioned it, and I hadn't seen them together in weeks. Yeah, I admit I could be handling th' thing better. But I just talked t' her — Thea, I mean — a couple weeks ago about how we both needed t' stop giving a frak an' do what makes us happy. So I do that, and now? This happens."

Matto returns the look, the gaze even and unflinching, but still caring and warm. "There was someone else, yeah, when they were… more loosely associated," Kissy euphemizes it. "He broke it off because Sam told him she wanted them to be exclusive. And that hurt both him and the other person in question very, very much. But he did it, because he wanted to do good by Sam. And then there was this," Kissy shrugs a shoulder, "I'm not saing it's your fault. But yeah, you're not handling it particularly well. I'm not saying don't date her if she makes you happy, just— like I said earlier— be a little thoughtful."

"Thoughtful… isn't exactly my strong suit…" Thorn confesses, his eyes flicking up towards Matto's. "But for frak's sake, do I really deserve this? I'm trying t' do right by her, isn't that what matters?" He sighs, picking his cigarette back up from the ashtray on the shelf where he'd left it. The smoke is blown into the fan, where it quickly dissipates.

"I don't think you do; the Captain?" Kissy pauses, "I dunno. The Captain's been having her own rather severe issues in the Aphrodite department, as you know only too well. I… doubt she's going to have much in the way of sympathy left after that," he points out. "You don't need to just do right by Sam, at this point. There's been major shit that's gone down because of this drama," he reminds him. "And like the Captain says, you know, we can't afford problems like that. We. Are. ALL. We have. Things break down between people on this ship and the human race will be finished before we know it. As much as it'd be great for you to just do well by Sam and screw what everyone else thinks. You need to do well by Marty, too. And the rest of the ship, by extension. There needs to be peace in the ranks."

Thorn is quiet for a long moment. He simply stares in front of him, smoking his cigarette. "Now I think I know why y' call Aphrodite th' Bitch," he muses softly. He looks back over at Kissy again. "I'll… do what I can, all right?" The dying cigarette gets stamped out in the crystal ashtray. "Look, if you still want t' go see Thea, go for it. I'm… not really in a talking mood anymore."

Matto swallows softly, "Yeah, well… she is one. You get to know that sooner or later," Kissy admits. "Whether you think she's an actual being somewhere or whether you just find her a convenient label for the train wreck that is human romantic relationships." He pauses, running a hand up through his hair. "I dunno. Maybe I should just let her be and cool down," he murmurs, going back to folding his laundry and Poppy's and putting it away. "But I'll leave you be, if you'd like."

"Do as y' like, I don't care," Thorn whispers, clicking off the light above his head. "But I'm going t' try and get some sleep." And that's the last he'll say. He reaches for the curtain, waiting for Kissy to pull away before he starts to tug it closed with a jerky movement.

Matto is folding and putting away laundry by now, and aside from a quiet 'good-night, Anton,' that's all there is from his side, a quarter-hour more of boots on flooring as he paces between table and lockers, putting everything in place. Then, picking up the basket from Poppy's bunk, still full of folded laundry, he wanders out again. Wait— whose laundry was -that?-

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