Summary: The evening in pilots' berthings is exciting as always. Jupiter leaves Castor cut to pieces, and Eddie has a surprise for Samantha.
Date: PHD032
Related Logs: None.

Kharon - Red Berthing

Castor nods his head, "Will do eltee. I'll save your cigar." He offers another smile which clearly says, 'thank you'.

Castor is babysitting a cigar, Samantha's just dashed out the door to babysit a viper, and Kai.. is babysitting a headache, by the looks of him. He's still sprawled in his bunk, tangled up in blankets and in the process of dragging himself kicking and screaming back into the land of wakefulness.

Roubani drifts quietly into berthings, with no fanfare but for the hatch opening and shutting. He ignores Samantha going past without even a greeting, carrying one of his notebooks towards his bunk.

In walks Jupiter, as Jupiter does. She sweeps a hand through unruly locks, and kicks off her shoes as soon as she's inside. She kicks them across the berthing with her, looking particularly sweaty. Yes, and she kind of smells, but it's a good clean sweaty smell. As long as you don't get toooo close. She looks exhausted, which probably means she's been running on the treadmill in the gym for the last gods know how long. The alternative could bring about the end of the universe, so let's not consider it, mmkay? "You look like shit." She's probably addressing the Captain. "Cap." Yep, she's talking to Kai.

Castor looks over at the Captain and says kindly though jokingly, "Cap, time to wake up, everything has changed, the Cylons gave up, total surrender, all the pilots revealed they were having affairs, I for one was shocked to find out who was sleeping with who, oh and did I forget to mention the mess has honest to goodness buttermilk pancakes with bacon?" Though as Jupiter walks in all sweaty and what not the pilot takes a moment to study this new person who he has not met yet, probably because of different shifts. He then takes another drag from his cigar and he keeps an eye on Sam's cigar as well however he says, "Oh and it turns out Poet is the new Commander, crazy shift I know, Cap, but I for one welcome my new young Commander."

"And you smell like sweaty socks, what's your point?" Do not mock happy fun Captain. There's a grunt as Kai rolls over on his back, dark hair plastered to one side of his skull in a fetching manner, and a good few inches of abdomen exposed by his bunched-up tee shirt. "Did that dream of yours include me getting more sleep?" he mumbles in Castor's general direction, forearms folding and resting atop his forehead.

"I suppose for the sake of us all, the first order," Roubani comments as he climbs his bunk. "Ought to be 'go back to sleep'." Quiet, dry. His mattress gently creaks. Kai's voice makes him glance down towards the Captain's lair, then he commences shuffling through his belongings on his shelf.

"I'd still frak me," Jupiter replies, without even thinking about it. She's confident like that. Something. Anyway, Jupes reaches her locker, pulls it open, and toes her shoes into it, then kicks one that's resisting. It flings into her locker and thuds against the bad. "I'm having a sexual fantasy about you right now. Hold on, let me burn the hotness into my brain." She glances over to Kai, eyes the lopsided hair and the rumpled look the Captain is sporting. She fans herself with one hand as she looks back to her locker in search of a clean towel. It's all very understated and dryly said.

Castor continues to study the Captain slightly amused, "Sir, it included all the sleep you want, but we need you to sign a couple of forms first, you know how it is, I mean the beauracrats get all cranky when you don't sign for your sleep sir." His eyes move over to Roubani and jokes, "Commander, sir, begging your pardon but we cannot live in a world without signing for the beauracrats." He then looks over at Jupiter for a moment and then he gives Jupiter, "Just to be clear, you are having a sexual fantasy about the Cap because I'm fairly sure that isn't against regs."

"Sorry, Black, you'll have to speak to my agent. I don't do glamour shots." Kai, for his part, does not move. Take that bedhead and suck on it, Fingers. His feet meanwhile are shuffling around a little, trying to push his blanket off. The height of either laziness or impressive pedal dexterity, is the fact that he manages to grab his pack of cigarettes from the shelf at the other end of his bunk, with his toes. And drags it closer so he can slide one out. "If the Commander knows what's good for him and his CAP schedule, he'll know what to do with his paperwork, Leda." There's a wink, nonetheless, for Roubani before he lights up.

Roubani smiles a little at Kai. It even briefly touches his eyes. He maintains his high up perch, content as he so often is to watch the interactions below with mild curiosity. His left hand finds something he wanted on the shelf and he pulls it into his lap, counting something.

Jupiter glances over at Castor as he inquires after the subject of her supposed fantasy. "… Burning love doesn't give a shit about regs, sparky." Aw, Kai, be careful about that suck it thing. This is Jupiter you're talking to! Jupes frowns a little as she reaches for the upper shelf in her locker, then casually sneaks a sniff of an underwing. Wow. "… Okay. I'll be naked over there." She jerks a thumb toward the head, snags her little clear bag of toiletries, a towel, and heads for the… Head. "That wasn't an invitation." That last part seems directed at Castor. Somehow he seems most likely to mistake her intentions. Gosh, imagine that.

Castor takes a drag of his cigar and then preserves Sam's now burnt out cigar, cutting it at just the right place. He then stands moving over to her bunk where he puts it on her pillow and shuts the curtain. He then walks back to the table and takes his seat, "Oh, and sir, did I forget to mention the free bar we've added. I know I for one am so drunk right now that I am seeing plaid. I recomend that you wake for the free bar, Cap." He looks at Roubani giving a wink before he looks back at Jupiter and jokes back, "Good, I wasn't in the mood for a delousing this morning."

There's a husky little chuckle from Kai, at the 'burning love'. Or maybe at the tone it was delivered in. He tips his head back, shuffling a little so it's tucked against a bicep, and exhales a steady stream of smoke toward the ceiling. "Leda, I think the idea is to one-up her when you make a comeback. Not trip over your own shoelaces. Points for the bar, though." He drags again, eyes on Roubani for the moment and whatever he's counting off up there.

Roubani chuckles under his breath at the conversation below him. Yeah, the constant swearing and various racy references definitely aren't commented on, but at least the blushing is to a minimum if it's even there at all today. Whatever's in his hands makes an almost inaudible popping sound. His eyes track Jupiter towards the shower and then go back to Castor, curiously.

"This is me…" Jupes pulls off her top as she walks out of the berthing and into the head. She's usually half naked in here, so it's nothing new or remarkable. A fading line of bruises is barely visible down one side. Sparring with marines again. "This is me falling in love." And then she's gone to shower, mercifully.

Castor looks over at Kai, "Sir, color me stupid, but who or what in the frak was that person that just came in having fantasies about your nethers?" he says using typical Aquarian archaic language.

And Kai's probably seen enough half-naked women prancing about berthings in his time, old man that he is, that Jupiter's strip and walk elicits not even a bat of his eye. Maybe he checks her out. Maybe he doesn't. Maybe he's just really enjoying his cigarette. "Jupiter Black. Ask her some time why she's called Fingers." There's a twitch at the corners of his lips like he might smile.

Roubani, on the other hand, politely looks away when Jupiter starts stripping. It doesn't matter how many half-nekkid women come through here on a daily basis, the Ensign's one of those ironclad gentlemen. His eyes shift back to the men, watching them talk.

Castor can be physically seen making mental notes, 'ask Jupiter about the callsign fingers' he then looks over at Kai, "Will do sir…far be it from me to resist a conversation that might lead to someone taking a swing at me." He then looks over at Roubani as if to say something but he changes his mind given Roubani's nature. "Well then, let me state again, we are well fraked and far from home crazy ass pilots and all."

"Keep it inside the ring, or I'll bust your ass personally, Leda, after I'm done busting hers." Hopefully Marek's the type to make empty threats. Hopefully.

Roubani gives Castor a polite smile. "Don't hold back on my account, sir. There is a big difference between having fun, and having fun at someone's expense." He picks up his bottle of water off his shelf.

Castor looks at Kai and then to Roubani, "Sorry for stepping over the line." He would say more but instead changes tracks, "What shift does Black work?"

"It wasn't you, sir," Roubani tells Castor. His hand passes by his mouth as he stretches out his arms, then he tips the bottle up and downs a few swallows. Mmm water. The health benefits of such imbibed purity are then made negligible, as he takes his cigarettes off the shelf.

"Right after lunch," Kai answers, checking his watch to confirm. "Though the CAG's been shuffling things around, so don't take my word on that." His cigarette is tucked between his lips then, and some rustling about commences as he digs out a pad of paper, and a pen with a little light on the end of it. "Behave," he warns before snicking shut his curtain.

Castor looks at Roubani, "Seriously, was I that over the line?'

Roubani's hand pauses with the lighter partway to his face, and he removes the cigarette from his lips. His look to Castor is mildly confused now. "When, sir?"

Castor looks at Roubani, "I dunno the Cap seemed to indicate I said something completely off. I'd rather not enter the dance with the Cap."

"I doubt it, sir," Roubani assures Castor, with a shrug. "I would think the Captain is more than used to the way pilots are."

Castor looks over at Roubani, "I dunno The whole bit about, "Keep it inside the ring, or I'll bust your ass personally, Leda, after I'm done busting hers." He then takes a puff of his cigar.

"Sir," Roubani says, lowering his voice to something approaching mock-confidential. "I believe in part he was teasing you."

The shower cuts off in the head, and a few minutes later Jupes returns wrapped in a towel, with her hair pulled up in another. And lo, the ripeness was tamed. And it was good. She adjusts her towel as she steps into the berthing, securing it around her body, little bag of toiletries in her teeth. "Means you pick a fight that comes to fists meeting face, your ass is in deep shit unless it happens in the gym. Don't matter who started it." Jupes, drive-by helpful. She heads across to her bunk.

Castor takes a moment and says, "And yet I'm the man smoking the cigar right now…however, a shower suits you, I mean you don't smell like an Aquarian fish market." He then takes a puff from his cigar for effect.

Roubani glances at Jupiter as she re-emerges. Castor's sudden focus on her seems to amuse him vaguely and he says nothing more, settling back and lighting a cigarette as he looks over his shelf.

Jupiter glances briefly over at Castor as she digs in her locker for a clean set of off duties. She glances up at Roubani, and arches a brow slightly. It's a questioning look. "Third party ruling. Was that an attempt at an insult? In your opinion… it didn't really ping my DRADIS." Roubs does always seem to be the observant one. Jupes digs out a pair of pants, gives them a sniff, deems them worthy, and shimmies them on under the towel.

Castor looks over at Jupiter and then to Roubani amused to see what Roubani will say.

Great. Same squadron and one doesn't even outrank the other, so loyalty is by default equally divided. Roubani hmms in his throat. "I would be more inclined to call it 'bait', sir," he remarks to Jupiter, then to Castor he says, "Good luck with the biting, sir, I hear it hurts."

"Ah." Jupiter nods to Roubani, as he's helpful in clearing up that little issue. "Is that what that was." Hm. She files that away somewhere, then tugs a set of tanks out of her locker, pulls them on, and tugs off the towel around her body, chucks it in her locker, and kicks it closed. "I have a date with the sims. Don't wait up."

Castor takes a long drag from his cigar as he blows a smoke ring. "Have fun shooting virtual cylons then especially seeing how they are always easier to shoot down in the SIMS." He then takes a moment to ashe his cigar, "And was for whether it was an attempt or not, well, I'll leave that to your imagination, as for me and my self, I'm waiting for more booze and a few more cigars, not that I'd share those with you…or would I?"

Roubani looks might he be cringing a little by the end of Castor's next attempt. He glances at Jupiter and offers her a parting half-smile. "Good evening, sir."

Samantha is back again. CAP still not finished, bird grounded. Apparently, the issues with her undercarriage were even more severe than thought. She could be put into another bird, but CAP was almost done anyway. The landing was shakey, the deck crew were cursing her up and down…but nothing blew up and Sam's bird is now in intensive care, as it were. She'll be given a 'loaner' for the rest of the week. She's in her flight suit, of course, hair sticking a bit to her forehead now that her helmet is off, a grumbling look to her eyes. She nods towards Jupiter as the woman passes her. "Fingers."

"Aw, baby. It's not about the size of your kill count. It's how often you save the ass of your fellow pilots who, just maybe, try a little too hard." Jupiter swirls a fingertip around the top of a little pan of lipgloss, addressing Castor. "You remember that, and if you ask real nice, maybe I'll save your ass in live fire." She glances over to Roubani, smiles, there might be - yes, there's a little wink - and she turns to exit. Lipgloss is applied on the move. "Case." She nods to the Lieutenant. And off she goes, to verbally assault some simulated bandits.

Castor gives Roubani a look that says, 'I don't give a frak but who in the frak is this person?' indicating Jupiter. He then turns to Jupiter, "And if you need to work through a middleman than your game is off." He turns to Samantha and offers her a look which says, 'ouch sorry for being grounded again'. He says, "Another false attempt sir?"

Roubani gives Castor a small, sympathetic smile. Poor guy. He settles his legs again and finally lights that cigarette he'd forgotten about earlier, Samantha's entrance going unacknowledged.

Castor takes a breath and rolls his eyes, this is a story for Eileithyia later he thinks to himself before he looks at Roubani, "No but seriously?" His tone indicates confusion as well as overall bewilderment of the Jupiter.

Samantha stalks over to her locker, pulling it open and grabbing at the zippers of her flight suit once more. It's simply rote habit nowadays, she could get out of this suit in her sleep. "Yeah. Underside of the bird is still frakked. Ain't something a simple patch and weild job can fix. I'll be in a loaner for the rest of the week and gotta look at my landings…take it soft and gentle, I suppose." She admits, genuinely a touch embarrassed that she's been going so hard on her bird. She nods towards Roubani…"Poet."

"Lieutenant," Roubani replies to Samantha, formally toneless. His focus remains on Castor, and he taps his cigarette against the tiny makeshift ashtray he's perched on his shelf. "Seriously what, sir?" He might be feigning innocence, who knows. That /is/ kind of a smile there.

Castor looks at Roubani, "Never mind, Poet." He looks over at Samantha, "Your cigar burned out and I cut it and placed it on your bed. As for the deck gang, they do their best, and I mean that. They work hard and a loaner still gets you in the air, eltee." He then takes a moment to see if Jupiter is looking for a moment before he says, "Frak." His tone is dry and slightly confused.

Samantha nods in agreement to Castor, "Oh, I know. The deck gang are lifesavers, really…they keep this whole damn operation running and I'll be kissing their ass for weeks for this. Always a good idea to kiss deck ass anyway." She flashes Castor a bit of a smile before she flickers a look between he and Roubani, blinking slowly…"I miss something?"

Either Roubani's just that polite or he doesn't want to be the one to break bro code. He doesn't enlighten the room as to Castor's issue, letting the LtJG air it himself if he so chooses. He just draws one knee up to his chest, wrapping his arm around his shin. Smoke wafts upwards from his cig.

Roubani is smoking more than paying attention to the conversation. There's some notebook open on his mattress that his eyes go back to, pencil picked up.

Eddie enteres the berthings in her typically aggitated manner, like she has too much energy to burn. As she stalks towards her bunk, she drags a hand through her short hair, smoothing it back from her face in nearly palpable frustration.

With a slightly bent cigarette hanging from his lip unlit, Martin steps in not long after Eddie with a book in his left hand. It's a small journal of some sort, looking well worn with a bookmark near the middle. Lighting the cigarette as he enters, he scans the room to see Eddie storming off, Sam undressing, and Roubani writing. With a thunk, the door is closed, and he moves over to his bunk. "Sup folks?"

Samantha shrugs a moment, "Not too much. Got my bird grounded after too many harsh landings, according to the deck crew. So…kissin' ass over there and happy nothing worse went wrong. You, handsome?" She asks of Martin, leaning over and, if he permits, stealing a casual kiss from him before he heads off to his bunk. She nods towards Eddie as the woman comes in, "Mooner."

"Sir." Roubani remarks to Martin. He raises an eyebrow at the stalkstalking of the wild Eddie, probably going to keep his distance from that one till she cools off. Crazy wimminz.

Eddie answers Samantha's callsign greeting with a handgesture perfected in years of traffic induced road rage sessions and pyramid games when your particular team loses. It's not flattering, and not one you should typically give a superior officer, but there it is. Without waiting for any sort of fall out from that, she's snapping a towel out of her locker and stalking off towards the showers.

Leaning into the quick, casual kiss, Martin's lip tugs lightly in a smile and a whispered hello. Cigarette held to the side, he leans away from Sam and drags off of it, watching the exchange between Eddie and Sam, deciding to avert his eyes towards Roubani where it's safe. "Hey Poet…you workin on some verse?"

Samantha just blinks at Eddie, having enjoyed that kiss from Martin, but the woman's look is shocking to say the least. She stares for a few moments, as perplexed as a Viper pilot can get (Which is pretty damned confused, with some intelligence levels somedays!) She finally looks back to Poet and Dash…"Ah…either of you know what the frak that's about?"

Roubani arches a brow at Eddie, muttering to Martin, "No, sir. Differential calculus. Far easier to understand than this room." Samantha is still largely on his 'ignore' list, apparently, as he doesn't even flick his eyes to her when she talks. Chilly shoulder abounds as he looks back down at his work, and there he'll stay.

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