Casual Crossfire
Casual Crossfire
Summary: Marines mouth off in the barracks.
Date: PHD 175
Related Logs: Immediately following A Few Words
Players:
Cinder..Damon..Epi..Panda..

Bunks are fairly quiet this afternoon. Epi's doing her usual crunches off the side of her bunk, dressed in a tank and sweats. She's been at it awhile.

It isn't until they're back in the Berthings that Panda opens his mouth again. "Thanks for backin' me up," he says in a low tone. He looks at the MP while heading down the first row towards his bunk at the end, but stops in the middle. His hand goes through his hair, he keeps glancing back and forth at her and away, like there's more.

Cinder follows him into the berthings. "Hey, no problem" she says, pulling her helmet off once she's through the door. She opens her mouth up, stretching the jaw after having had that chin strap tightly wrapped around for all of one patrol, and soon to be through all of another. A few stray strands of blonde hair are plastered to her slick forehead and neck, with the bulk of her hair pulled up in a messy bun under the helmet. That's the next thing to go, as she pulls it free, and shakes the bulk of it out. "Holy shit, I can't believe I've got another patrol shift to work today" she thinks out loud, walking to her bunk. It creaks as she slides in, still in uni, looking for a quick bit of shut eye before the next patrol.

Epi bends backwards, 270 degrees, and looks at the newcomers for a moment. It LOOKS like she's smiling. "Evening all," she greets, then pauses. "Another to work today?" Brows pull together. "That's odd. We're only on one-a-days."

"Evenin' Jarot," Panda breathes, looking away from Cinder. He leans, about to take a step, then swings back around. "Hey, Corp'ral, you got a minute?" the man grunts, crossing to the middle row between Cinder's and Epi's. "This kid's been stressin' out about her schedule, and I ain't in a, uh, ain't in a state to be thinkin' right now."

Slipping inside from the hallway, the ex-convict turned prison trooper named Damon steps inside. Fresh from the showers after one of his two daily workouts, the tall mountain of muscle speaks to no one as he lights a cigarette and rounds the bunks towards his own. Glancing to Cinder, he turns his head to issue Epi a respective upward nod. It's the same upward nod that he gives to Panda.

Cinder is just lying on her bunk, still in patrol gear. "I swear I saw that I was on next patrol too. But you say they don't run doubles right now? I just figured it was some sort of accelerated training is all." Ugh…how embarassing would it be to have totally misread that schedule and not actually have to go to another patrol. For the moment though, she just rolls to the side a little, unholstering her sidearm, checking the safety, and holding it on her chest while she waits to hear from Epi and Panda regarding the schedule.

Epi is currently dangling upside down from her bunk, hips and legs still inside. She dips her head, or is it inclines, to Damon, watching him for a long moment. "You and thinking are NEVER friends," she teases Panda, though there's a bit of concern in her eyes. "Nope, no doubles, Private. S2 and Major are the types who'd not do that unless absolutely necessary, and it's not right now. I checked the schedule before coming back, and you're not on until tomorrow."

"Yeah you ain't kiddin'!" Panda says in a sharp, nervous laugh. He listens to the women, then reaches up and rubs the side of his nose. "So uh, maybe, maybe she's still on some Boot Camp training schedule or somethin'." The man shrugs, turning to nod at his bunkmate. "I dunno, but, y'know, if the Corp'ral says you're good," he calls over to Cinder, "You're good."

Lowering himself onto his bunk, Damon props his booted feet against the frame of his bed and plants his back against the wall. In the corner from which he can see everyone and everything in the barracks, he seems to always be watching his exits. "What's this about?" Damon asks openly, his voice a mellow tone of bourbon poured into coffee.

"Argh, it's just about me being a frakkin' bimbo, no matter what I do!" she says with a certain amount of frustration. She slides out of her bunk, and slams her helment into the storage locker at the foot of her bunk. From inside, she pulls out the lockbox for her sidearm, and removes the magazine, before putting the gun away and locking the steel box back up and putting it away. Various buckles and velcro straps sound out in the berthing as the private pulls off her black vest, hanging it up in her locker, sliding out of her patrol blacks. About halfway out of her fatigue shirt, she just leans on the locker, hanging her head. "Do I really belong here? I mean…I thought I did. Maybe I don't though. You can take the stripper out of Caprica but…can you really turn her into a Colonial Marine?"

Epi's still dangling. She blinks at all three of the others for a moment then shakes her head, sighing. "The Private thought she was on a second run today - and she's not. Common mistake, I've done it a few times myself." Well, she's TRYING to be reassuring. But then her head turns toward Cinder. "With an attitude like that, you might as well get your frakking pasties back on and cadge a thong from Leda. If you couldn't hack it as a Marine, you wouldn't have made it through boot. You made it through boot, so OBVIOUSLY you have a clue. If you want to be here, great. You're one of the team. If not, get the hells out so we can use your bunk for storage." She's teasing, right? Of course, it's hard to be all THAT fierce when you're hanging upside down and all the blood is in the head.

"She's right," Panda says after Epi's through. He's glancing over now and then, less so when the blacks start coming off. "'Cept for one thing. You don't get to quit." He leaves Epi's bunk, turns to face the next one. "You know who sleeps here? Sergeant Volker. The one who got half his face shot off." He stands with his back to the MP, hands gripping each other in the small of his back as he looks over the personal effects.

Despite being a convict who's spent the better part of two years in a cell awaiting execution, Damon does manage to glance in Cinder's direction. Trying not to notice that the woman's changing out of her clothes, he does a double take when she mentions being a stripper. Lifting his eyebrows, Damon averts them towards the ceiling of his bunk. "Could be worse, girl. You could have been a day care teacher. You got strong legs and can kill a cylon with a pole." Damon says from out of nowhere. A small cloud of smoke drifts out from his bunk towards the next one over. A long pause from the black skinned man, reclining on his bunk like he's in a cell block. His eyes look to her sidearm lockbox, watching it in a silent reverence. "Stand up to em' girl. You gonna let them talk to you like that?"

"Sure, I made it through boot…" she mutters, thinking things over. As she leans against her locker for moment, she takes ahold of her dangling dogtags. Holding them in slender, feminine fingers, the nails no longer long and manicured, but trimmed short (but still cared for as best she can with a file and clippers), she rolls the metal tags over and over, reading them, with her name and service number. "And you're godsdamned right this is where I want to be. Frakkin' Cylons took my life away! I sure as shit can't fly a Viper…I'm not the biggest or the strongest…" she says, a complete understatement, since she's still totally got a stripper's body. "I may not be the best shot or a great leader, but I can do my best to keep this ship safe." As she seems to grow a pair and toughen up, she's sliding out of her black combat trousers. Before you know it, she's in just her tank top undershirt and her boxer briefs, tags clanging around her neck. She walks down the row to Damon's bunk, peeking in. "Got one of those I can bum or buy off you?"

Epi glances down at her own rather petite form. Yep, still barely 5' tall and slight. But she's smiling. "Touch Volkers things and I'll break your fingers, knuckle by knuckle, then shove one of your hands up your ass, the other down your throat, until you can hold your own hand," she tells Panda brightly. Yes, it's the same tone of voice a cheerleader might use. "And you," attention turns to Cinder now. "Buck up. Remove head from ass. You're a Marine. Deal with it."

Panda lifts a middle finger at Epi in reply, but his lips have curled to a smile. Not manic, just content. He shakes his head after a few more moments of contemplation, turning away from their NCO's bunk. "Don't mind her," he teases the demogirl by way of talking to the newest Marine as he approaches the rack he shares with Damon. Well, not shares, he's got the top one. "We all lost somethin', she's just more closed-lip about it."

Leaning his head out of his bunk, Damon levels his pale eyes on Cinder's face. Nodding softly, he reaches to the thigh pocket of his off duty fatigues and pulls out a pack and a lighter. Opening the pack for her, he lets her choose one of the twelve remaining in the pack as he sparks the lighter in his other hand to finish the job for her. "If you want to be here, put your feet down on it." Damon says quietly to Cinder, turning his head to regard Epi and Panda. "How the hell is Volker anyway? Anyone seen Elder lately?"

She doesn't seem picky…just taking one out and leaning in with it in her mouth to get a light. No doubt leaning over causes her heavy breasts to dangle some…but she doesn't seem to give a shit, in all honesty. Wouldn't be the first time guys had seen or oogled them. Even though she's trying to shake that sterotype, shit's still going to happen. After she gets a good burn going, taking a few puffs, she pulls her torso out from under Damon's bunk, heading back to her own bunk. Best thing she can do now is just shut the frak up and stop looking like such a whimpery-simpering little tart around these vets who saw real action while she was flying around getting her freak on for money.

"You wish," Epi tells Panda, pulling herself back up into a seated position before flipping over to her stomach. Gumby girl's at it again. "Last time I saw Volker, he was eating mat. You two've done your quals with the S2 and Volker, right? As for Elder, well, last time I saw HIS sorry ass was in the Mess the day braintrust thought I was knocked up." A thumb is jerked toward Panda.

Panda shrugs at Damon's question, not knowing the answer and a bit distracted - of note, he's distracted in two directions at once. "(Frak I hate ships,)" he mumbles half at Damon, leaning on the edge of their bunk as he wipes his face with a hand. Epi's answer has him grinning, though, his cheeks taking on a properly embarased hue. "Yeah, well, y'know. Guess that means he's got brains enough not to stick around where he'd only cause trouble, huh?"

"No quals yet. Oh and hey, you gotta get a real man to get knocked up. Ajtai you should know this shit." Damon says, talking a little trash. Chuckling out a small cloud of smoke, he glances from Epi to the retreating form of Cinder with a thoughtful look to his eyes. "I'd offer to do the job, Shortstack, but I'm pretty sure it's a fourth of your height." Damon adds, purely talking marine trash. "So hey, what's your name?" He calls out to Cinder, reeling her back into the conversation.

Cinder's not totally out of the conversation though; she's giving a little smirk and chuckle at the mention that Damon's thing is that big compared to Shortstack, who she figures out pretty readily is Epi. She leans out to the side of her bunk, lying on her back, legs drawn up, knees bent, feet flat on the mattress. Her head pokes out as she puffs away on that smoke. "Cinder Brand" she replies. "From Caprica."

"Epiphany Jarot," Epi tells Cinder with a cheeky smile. "Most call me Epi or Shortstack. Some even call me Boom. Ship's demo expert." Her? A demolitions expert? Her attention bounces between Panda and Damon for a bit, then she simply snorts. "Only in your dreams," she tells Damon. "And your past lovers' jokes." Panda just gets A Look.

Miscreants and Ne'erdowells, Panda fits that well enough. He just grins back at Epi like a goon, smart enough only to not say any more on the subject. The man leans over the top bunk to stare at the picture on his locker, letting the conversation flow around him.

"Only in your lung, probably." Damon chuckles softly, giving Epi a cool, relaxed look that doesn't display any hidden interest in touching her in such a way. Resting his head back on his pillow, Damon drags off of his cigarette. "Damon Cavalera, Scorpia."

"Well, good to know you all. I'll probably have to ask your names about 10 more times over the next few days to remember them." She seems a bit more relaxed now, and maybe it's the cigarette, or maybe it's just the fact that she's not being jeered by the other Marines. Whether her training is officially done? Who knows. She's just been doing what the higher-ups have said. Basic. MP AIT. Shooting range. Ship patrol with other Marines who've done it before. For the first time it strikes her that a few months ago, on Elpis, she wouldn't have ever thought herself capable of all that.

"Just scream," she tells Cinder with a smile. "I'll find you. I wouldn't leave my mouth open too long around that one, though," she says, bobbing her head at Damon. "He'll shove something in it."

"That'll be interesting." Damon says quietly. It's not a reservation of doom, but more of just statement of fact. Stubbing out his cigarette, he removes his boots and pulls one of the blankets over his shoulder in an obvious fit of preparation for some sleep. "If y'all are gonna scream, do it over there. I need to get my ass some rack time."

Panda leans back to look down at Damon in his bunk. "Hey, man, would you…" As he speaks he frowns, looking over to Cinder, then back to Damon. "Nah, forget it," Pandorian says with a shrug, then clambers up the rungs to his top rack.

"Hear hear" Cinder says in agreement. It's been a long day on patrol, and knowing she doesn't actually have to work a double means she too should get some shut eye. As if to accentuate the point, she yanks the tan screen on her bunk back, and settles herself in for some shuteye.

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