Summary: Relationships are damaged and enforced as curtains are drawn closed.
Date: PHD #107
Related Logs: None

Eddie's now moved to a lower bunk, having bribed the person beneath Alex to move for a few days until she can muster climbing up to the second tier again. As it stands, or lays as the case may be, Eddie's stretched out in her new bunk with fresh sheets and a smatter of her belongings around her. She's currently puffing away at a cigarette, looking at a black and white photo of a little girl. Once more, she's wearing a kerchief over her head wound.

Fresh from the showers, Martin steps into the berthings by himself. Towel over his shoulder and his old clothes folded up in his arms, he moves towards his locker and spins in the combination. With a small 'clank' the door is opened and his clothes are placed inside. Eyes towards Eddie, he watches her quietly. "…how you doin?" He asks, with interest.

Ferris is in his bunk, as well. Just kinda toiling away the hours with a notepad. The pen he's using scribbles away at the paper on the legal pad, his eyes scanning over the previous writing he had already done. As he makes a pause, he furrows his eyebrows a little bit. "That sounds bad," he whispers to himself, before crossing out a line or two. Then, back to writing…

Eddie exhales a long stream of smoke before she rolls to her side and fastens the photo back to the metal of her bunk with a magnet. When she settles back down her dark gaze locks onto Martin and she just stares at him for a long moment as if she's trying to sort through her thoughts. "I have a headache." She says simply, which is really par for the course. Mooner can't see what Ferris is doing up there, but his words float down, "Don't worry, your gruntin' doesn't bother any of us. Just flog quickly and get it over with."

Martin looks to Ferris, eyes falling onto the notepad with a curious look before his gaze turns back to Eddie. Locking eyes with her in a fit of silent conversation, he lowers his brows. "What grunting?" He asks, pulling a cigarette out of his locker and lighting it. The air around him seems to change to a darker tone. "You want anything while I'm up?"

Eventually, the notepad is put aside, and Ferris sighs a little, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes a little. Coming out from his own bottom bunk and stretching slightly, he rolls his neck a little, sighing. "Stupid de-brief," he remarks quietly. He shakes his head a little. He glances over toward Martin and Eddie, giving a small bit of greeting, and rolling his eyes a little at Eddie's remark…

Eddie pulls the cigarette from her lips, studying Martin through the haze that drifts up from her lips. "Nope. I didn't deserve an explanation a week ago. Don't see any reason why I should ask for one now. Who you're frakking is you own gods damned business. It just won't be me, anymore." Her eyes flick to Ferris as he slides out of his bunk and becomes visible. "Don't worry, New Guy. Obscene paper work is just part of the hazing."

Another drag from the cigarette comes towards Martin's lungs as he studies Eddie. Eyebrows dipping in response to her words, he leans his shoulder against the bunk above his and takes in a slow, cleansing breath. "…then why the dirty looks? If you want the truth don't buy into the rumor mill, Eddie." Martin says quietly, before looking towards Ferris. "…Debriefing's a bitch, ain't it, pal?"

"Still trying to figure out how to put it into words, 'I got shot, and didn't make much of a tactical assessment of the enemy force prior to that, and then spent three months on so many pain cocktails that I couldn't -read,- let alone -count.-' It's coming together, though." Jaimson sort of deadpans for a moment, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes. "It could be worse, though."

Eddie keeps in her prone position, not bothering to expend the energy it would take to sit up and have conversation. She's beat to hell and back after a week in sickbay, and she's only been released to berthings not even light duty yet. It's like a vacation without the surf, sand, or cabana boys. That, and she has a hole in her head. "Don't need a rumor mill, baby, to see Sam crawlin' out of your bunk ever morning or vice versa. Don't break a sweat, Dash. I ain't gonna bust your balls for bustin' a nut with Basket Case." Just as casually, her conversation flips back to Ferris. "You'll figure it out man."

"Just imagine what it's like for the guys coming back up from Scorpia…" Martin replies to Jaimson, nodding in his direction as he ashes his cigarette. "…every last detail over a week or two…" He adds, moving to stand beside Eddie's bunk. Looking down at her, he lowers his voice quietly. "…it's not about that, Eddie. I thought…there were no claims…"

"That's what I'm trying to do," Ferris dead pans once again, furrowing his eyebrows a little and shaking his head slightly. He tilts his head a little bit as the two talk back and forth, shaking his head a little bit. Eventually… he moves to lay back again, rolling his neck.

The tip of Eddie's tongue touches her top lip as she considers Martin's words for a moment. Finally she gives a bark of laughter, "You made your choice, punkin. You want the sure thing, you got it. I'm sorry I couldn't love you. And I'm sorry you weren't strong enough to see if that could change. You guys have many fat little babies together, a'ight?"

Ferris…poor Ferris. It's one thing when you're in a minefield. It's another thing when the minefield comes to you. Martin's head turns slowly in Eddie's direction and he reaches up to take the cigarette from his lip. "Not strong enough? Eddie whenever I brought things up you gave me the frak-off and didn't want to talk about it…." Martin says, as if responding to a punch in the face. "…you kept telling me no-ties, no rules, shit I was fine with that but…I mean did you even want to say something about it?"

Uh oh. Trouble in paradise. Ferris isn't gettin' into this one. As he sits back on his bunk, his eyes do cut slightly toward where the voices are… but from his perspective, he can't see the two quarreling. Biting at his bottom lip, he just shakes his head, and sighs. His pillow comes up… and then -down- on top of his head.

Eddie gives an indelicate snort. "That's what all this was about? Trying to get some sort of reaction out of me? Sorry I can't give you that bit of satisfaction, Martin. I might not of given a shit if you frakked anyone else on this ship, but hopping back in with Passi and playing house again? I ain't gettin' in the middle of that shit. I might hate myself? But not that frakking much. I won't be made a joke." Maybe this is all part of the hazing, Ferris.

"Awwww bullshit, Eddie." Martin shakes his head from side to side as the conversation goes from tense to a spat in a few mere traded paragraphs. "No this is not what this was all about. I'm not a teenage girl trying to play some sort of triangle bullshit. You know me better than that." Martin replies with a shake of his head and then pauses for a drag off of his cigarette. He turns to face the wall, hands on the grating of his locker as he talks. "Hate yourself? Don't do that allright…gods damn…it's just…remember before this blackout happened when I was in the gym and I was really thinking about shit, Eddie?" He pauses. "…I mean, what's the frakking point in dying with so much unsaid shit on your mind. I thought I was pushing you in a direction you didn't want to go."

Eddie's eyes pinch tighter, so she's almost squinting at Martin. Clearly this conversation is giving her an even greater headache. She shifts if only to drag down a water bottle and a bottle of aspirin. They aren't doing shit for the pain, but she's not allowed anything stronger, considering. She pops a few, washing them down with a swing of water. "So you found someone who was, kudos to you, Dash." He's spatting, she's just coasting.

Martin takes another drag off of his cigarette, head shaking from left to right. "It's not like that, Eddie. You know me better than that." He says, in some sort of argument with Eddie while poor Ferris hides in his bunk with his pillow over his head. "…when I asked you where we were going you told me that we had no ties. I thought that meant you were frakking Rabbit."

Yeah. The new guy, or Ferris - either one - is attempting to put himself out of the misery. It could either be over the debrief, which sits, half written by his bedside, or the fact that Martin and Eddie are at it. Either way, the pillow is over his head, and it's being held down by both arms. And he is, appropriately, silent. Of course, his chest is also rising and falling - so obviously, he's not dead - yet.

If Eddie had the energy to throw anything, she might. As it stands, she's laid out in her bunk looking half way to nappy-time land. "And I flat out told you I wasn't, ain't that right? And that I wouldn't lie to you, ain't that right? So if I'm supposed to know you? You don't know me compared to frak all else. You made your choice, sugar booger, now be a man and lay in the bed you made. When Miss Mary Sunshine makes you wanna gag on your own vomit a few weeks or months down the line, don't bother looking back to me. Now as far as you and I are concerned, we're square. Unless you want to press the issue further and make me actually sit up, then there might just be frakking hell to pay."

Voices may or may not be heard in the corridor, preceding Kai and Salazar's untimely arrival. Then the hatch is shoved open, and the CAG in his blues trudges on in. Followed shortly by the S2. Acronyms unite! A sharp look is cast toward Eddie and Martin as the pilot tosses a file folder onto the table and heads for his locker. He doesn't intrude upon the conversation. Yet. "Have a seat," he tells Salazar. There's a nod toward the chairs.

Into the berthings walks the S2. The offduty S2, if the unbuttoned blues are any indication. Maybe she's here to toss the berthings for jollies before hitting the rack! Ohnoes. Her own file folder follows the CAG's to the table. Looks like somebody just came from a meeting. She yanks out a chair, drops to a seat in it, and glances over the berthing to take in the sights.

As Ferris hears the wonderful voice of the savior that is the CAG, Ferris slowly begins to remove the pillow from his face. And… slowly, replace it back under his head. With a fluff. As he sits up a little again, the notepad is re-aquired… and something is scribbled down. He's gotta be semi-diligent in hsi work. Even if there's an argument going on.

Martin looks back towards the approaching Kai and Salazar, eyebrows furrowing as he moves closer to Eddie's bunk. Lowering his voice, he turns the conversation into an angry whisper-fest. "No I know that you weren't and I believe you but not having ties meant no foul if you did. I mean, stake a gods-damned claim Eddie." Martin says, smoke rising not from his ears but from his cigarette which is coming dangerously close to burning his knuckles. "I know actions speak louder than words, but frak…what I just learned now that it wasn't just a fling on your end."

"Sucks for you, doesn't it?" Eddie asks simply before reaching for the curtain. She's taken up a bunk beneath Alex, convincing the flyboy there to switch with her for a little while, until she can navigate a top bunk again. She looks beyond Martin to Kai and Salazar. "Sir. Star-face." She greets, then succinctly snaps the curtain and the conversation, closed.

"Either kiss, frak and make up, or go beat each other senseless in the gym," mutters the CAG-in-a-locker. He returns shortly with a bottle of something bronzy and a pack of cigarettes before banging the door shut. "Either way, give it a rest for tonight and stop harshing the zen." That's directed toward Martin and Eddie with equanimity as he heads for, and drops into a seat at, the table. Hey, if nothing else, maybe the 'free booze' sign hanging above his head might help diffuse things.

Martin stares at the closed curtain for a moment. "…yeah…make it my fault." He says under his breath towards the curtain. "SHIT! FR—" Martin gets out, his hand suddenly waving as the fire from the cherry reaches his knuckle. Sliding his knuckle between his lips to suck at the burn, he reaches down to pick up the cigarette and stalks back towards his bunk. "Sorry sir. No frakking or kissing or making up here. "Apparently I'm too busy playing molly housewife with the gods damn barracks." Martin says, opening his locker. "Welcome to the dollhouse, Sparky." This said to Salazar.

Salazar tips back and drops an elbow over the back of her chair. She crosses her legs, and gets comfortable, watching the CAG dig around in his locker, them come back with smokes and booze. The words exchanged between Martin and Eddie are heard, but she doesn't offer up any opinion other than, "If it were, I'd do all three. Not necessarily in that order." She glances over as Martin burns himself. "Were you dropped on your head as a child?"

Eddie has closed the curtain to her bunk with no need to respond to the CAG. Martin already ruled out kissing and making up and Eddie's in no shape to hit the gym, so that rules out all the options offered. Mooner falls quiet, even though Martin was just on the other side of the curtain, burning himself.

Kai lifts his eyes when Salazar speaks, then lowers them again so he can unscrew the cap off his bottle. A few glasses resting on a shelf above the table are brought down, and collected in a cluster before he begins to decant the alcohol into one of them. Just a finger or two, but rations — including alcohol — are tight. It's slid in Salazar's direction, and he eases back in his chair to unwrap the cellophane from his pack of cigarettes. He'll let Martin address the question from her, himself.

"Depends on who you ask and what day it is." Martin replies, moving to sit on the edge of his bunk. In a foul mood, he crosses his arms after lighting a fresh cigarette. Turning to plant his booted foot on the opposite wall of his bunk, he grabs his ashtray and sets it on the edge of his bunk-well. Staring at one particular bolt in the frame of his bunk, Martin shakes his head from left to right as some of the mindworms that Eddie threw start to sink into his subconcious. He suddenly looks back at Eddie's cabin as if he's about to bark something and then stops himself, knuckling his forehead. "….nnnnggggh…" Drag of cigarette. He bonks the back of his head lightly against his bunk. "Son…of…a…bitch…"

Towel about his shoulders comes Alex, a good sheen of water over him and a duffel that smells of gym in hand. Pausing as he sees company in the berthings, the man offers a nod of his head with tired eyes casting about before he heads towards where his bunk is without a further greeting.

Samantha steps into the room, practically glowing from the good news. And she's got a letter in her hand. A nice, official, medical looking letter. Her scarred right arm is totally free of any brace, bandaging or sling and she's whistling dixie as she ducks in…"Captain around? I got gooood news. He's up a pilot!" She grins widely, totally oblivious to tension as she hands Pike's note clearing her for duty in Kai's direction. "When can I start CAP? Someone wanna give up their shift tonight? I'm itchin' to fly.'

Kai is at the table with Salazar, a bottle of what looks like rum between them, and a couple of glasses. The CAG himself is not drinking, but that's not unusual. He is however, in the process of lighting up a smoke and tossing the recently-opened pack across to the marine. "I like good news," he tells Samantha with a tired looking smile. He leans back in his chair and scissors the fingers of his free hand for her note.

Salazar reaches over to slide the offered alcohol closer, positioning it just in front of her seat. She doesn't drink it right off. Her eyes move to the CAG, and she smiles slightly as she notes his expression. She leans her head against her hand, the one propped on the back of her chair. Thus canted slightly, she shoots an amused look to the CAG as Sam walks in. It must be the general air in the berthings. There's something behind that smile, some unspoken words that probably contain the words 'pixie patrol'. For once, oh, for once she does not say it. "Thanks for the drink, Captain." It remains right where it is, just for now. She does reach for the pack to fish out a cig, short nails clicking against the table's surface.

Martin spies the alcohol, and then looks upwards. It's condition three and he's off duty. Reaching into his locker, he pulls out a bottle of something that thankfully he was allowed to keep. Looking to Sam and Alex as they enter, he nods upwards in their direction. Suddenly putting on a calm, cool demeanor, he salutes them with the bottle. "Just what the berthings needed, two more women." Martin grins. This is obviously a crack on Alex. "So your flight status is back on, Case? Come get a drink."

Hearing the crack, Alex lifts an eyebrow with the normal easy going gent looking far less so with lines drawn across his brow. "A woman? Hmm, well then that'll be one woman in these berthings you haven't spread. Yay me." He resumes unpacking his gear to stow it up. Without looking behind him he simply asks, "Marek. Did you know?"

Not even free alcohol or the sight of a sweaty Alex is enough to rouse Eddie from her bunk. She's really not allowed to partake of either right now, so why bother moving? At some point, the Ensign difts off to sleep, and no longer voyeurs from the shadows of her bunk.

Samantha does a little booty dance as Kai reads her medical clearance. "Mmmhmm. Foot loose and flight stick free, as it were! I'd drink but I'm gonna try to grab someone's CAP in the next 8 hours… Unless the Captain here has me in mind for mornin' duty tomorrow. Been too damn long. I miss my baby. I will steal a cigarette from someone to celebrate, though." She turns a look behind her shoulder and grins to Salazar…"Hey. Thanks for not like… damangin' my stuff. Was a mess in here, though. You leave yer own room like that?" Sam asks with a laugh as she heads over in Martin's direction. Alex is given a brief nod… "Care about Marines. I hear they bite."

"No problem," Kai answers Salazar with a flick of his eyes across to her. "I sure as hell won't get any use out of it. No sense letting it go to waste." Once the note is delivered, he opens it up and gives it a quick read, cigarette pulled from absently while he does so. "Did I know what, Nikolo?" Samantha's given a nod, and her letter folded and handed back. "I'll put you back on the roster for tomorrow. Tonight's CAP's already suited up, and you may as well have a drink while I'm offering." He nods to the bottle nearby.

"I got a cigarette." Martin says, pulling a pack out of his pocket and holding it in Case's direction. Eyebrows lowering at Alex's reply, Martin puts on annoyed-face and looks over in his direction. "Go frak yourself." He says, putting on some good old-fashioned hostility for a change. Raising a finger in Alex's direction, he takes a pull from his bottle and rests it against his knees. "Might not be a good open topic, Alex." Martin says mysteriously. Apparently he knows.

The door of Alex's locker gets shut very slowly and calmly as he turns around and levels his eyes, first on Marek then over at Martin. "That so? And what makes you think you have any basis to be the judge of that?" The tone Icarus uses is very soft and quiet.

Salazar doesn't know. Or maybe she does, but doesn't know she knows. In any case, a curious S2 is a nosy S2. Someone can spill it, or she can ask, even if she's not sure she really wants to know. Hence? Silence. She reaches a hand over to the table to flick the pack out of the way in search of the lighter. She speaks around the unlit cigarette to Samantha, "Bitch too much and next time it gets left in a giant pile and you can fight over whose is whose." It's not a threat, just an observation, which, from the S2, sometimes sound like the very same thing.

Samantha blinks, a hint of confusion crossing her face between Martin and Alex, apparently having missed a little bit of the conversation and whatever animosity it's creating. She shrugs to Kai and smiles…"Sure. Guess some celeberation is in order. And it's better than the med bay's drugs, that's fer sure." Sam's backwater, lazy accent comes out with relaxation and good spirits. She heads over, scooping up Martin's offered cigarette on the way and then grabbing a coffee mug to partake in the booze. "Martin, Alex…you boys in? How about the lady? Make up drink for, well…ya having to paw through this place. I'm sure there was a toxic disaster somewhere in these lockers."

The lighter wasn't set down. It is now. It's also probably familiar. "All right, Black, Nikolo, knock it the frak off. The next one of you I see making smack talk is getting pulled from the mission roster tomorrow and sent on a date with the head, and an armload of industrial strength drain cleaner. Those showers have been clogging up something nasty, lately." The Captain eases back in his chair, and sends a look across to Salazar. Like, see what I have to deal with?

Martin turns his head, looking over towards Icarus. There's a quiet but serious look on his face as he regards the fellow pilot. He ashes his cigarette, bringing it to his lips again. "Because obviously he doesn't know. If she wanted him to know, she would have told him." Martin says bluntly, sliding off of his bunk. His bunk, the next one over from Alex, puts him not far out of reach as he turns his vision towards Samantha. He extends the bottle in his hands, looking to her face. "I'm in."

Salazar nods to her drink, still on the table in front of her. There's about a shot in the glass, but it remains untouched. "I got one, thanks. Just biding my time so I can savor it." She smiles up at Samantha, seeing pretty at ease, even here in the den of fairies and sprites, where no marine dare wander under normal circumstances. Oh, lighter. She snags that, flips it over in her hand, and smirks a little at the CMC logo. Course, it could be she's smirking at that look Karim just tossed her. There's a brief nod before she lights her cig, the dance of the flame quick to catch. "Spirited." One word for it. She flicks the lighter closed, and sets it back down on the table with a click.

Alex looks around and grunts, grabbing his duffel and turning back out the way he came, apparently heading for the gym once more rather than to be in the berthings.

Samantha shrugs slightly and pours out the booze for both her and Martin, topping off Kai if he wants some. She smiles to the CAG. "Thanks again, Captain. To your health." She toasts him gently before taking a good, long sip of her drink and then coming down to settle on Martin's bunk, next to him, if he permits. She seems comfortable there again, oblivious to the fight and other tension between him and the other sleeping woman. It's too good a night to worry, it seems. "So… head honcho meetin' went well tonight? Anything we should know for tomorrow?"

Kai just smokes quietly, and shakes his head to the offer of a drink. The CAG never drinks. Ever. "No problem, Case," he murmurs around a pull of his cigarette, flipping open his file folder and perusing its contents more carefully. Nothing like receiving the details of an op, the day before you're set to go out. "I haven't written a briefing yet, but you'll be sure to know tomorrow afternoon. Looks pretty routine, though. Mining colony. Probably all dead, or heavily irradiated. I'm not sure what our odds are for survivors down there." And frankly speaking, it isn't his job to know. If he sounds clinical about the whole thing, it's probably because he forces himself to be.

Martin, Vortex of the Current Drama, turns his head to watch Alex watch out with a strange look of sympathy on his face. Seated, he pushes up slightly as if to follow but then stops himself. "To the CAG…" Martin agrees, saluting with the glass before taking a sip himself. Leaning in towards Sam to whisper something to her, he squeezes her knee softly before looking back to the others, keeping the conversation open. "Surface or Zero G mining?"

Sal exhales a lungful of smoke toward the ceiling, tipping her head back. The line of her throat is exposed for a moment, the delicate lines of a leafy tattoo revealed. Or are those feathers? A closer look might be needed to make a determination. She has so many. Her hair slides over her cheek, and a smattering of small blue star tattoos are revealed from temple to cheek, running down the left side of her face. There's a continuing silence from her as she pilots ask after the mission. She takes another drag of the cigarette, dark eyes watching the CAG as he speaks with his charges. She reaches for that glass with the hand that holds the smoke, fingers steepling over it. She raises the glass silently to Karim, then kicks it back in one gulp. Burny goodness.

Samantha can't entirely keep her eyes off Sal. Or, more so, Sal's ink. Damn, it's lovely. Sam doesn't exactly look lustful, but it's close, studying every little bit of work the woman is wearing with an admiring gaze, trying not to be too awkward about it but she likes to look. She takes a sip of her booze, distracted by that motion from Sal, before she forces herself to look back to Martin, half leaning against him in the bed there, listening to what he's whispered before looking back to the CAG. "It'll be an adventure. Hopefully with tylium at the end of it." She frowns to whatever Martin's said, her free hand just rubbing against his leg…

"Hopefully," Kai answers Samantha with a small, and somewhat tired smile. The folder's flipped shut, and collected as he moves to his feet. On his way past Salazar, he touches her shoulder and murmurs something into her ear. His face gives away nothing, whatsoever. "Hard rock, surface mining," he tells Martin. Then he continues past to his locker, where the classified information is stowed and his cigarette clamped between his lips while he begins stripping out of his uniform.

Martin nods quietly at the idea of another surface mission. The last one didn't go so well, but at least it brought them some new and old personnel back home. Taking another sip of his drink, he looks to Samantha and nods to her, eyebrows lofting before he looks back to Kai. Swallowing the sip, he ashes his cigarette. "I'm pretty fresh, Spider. If you're looking for someone solid for the shit assignment on this one, I'm game." Martin offers, glancing at the S2. Suddenly feeling very immature, he puts on his game face. "…any confirmed hostiles going in? AA?"

Sal's dark brows rise a hitch, then her expression smoothes, and her eyes follow the CAG. She watches him for a long moment. The S2 glances over to Martin and Samantha, perhaps catching something in Sam's gaze. The glass is set on the table with a light thunk, and the dark haired woman stands. "Always prepare for hostiles. It makes it that much more fun when they show up," Salazar replies, as Martin asks his question. She watches the two of them as she finishes unbuttoning her blues, and she steps out of those shiny, shiny shoes. They're tucked under the edge of the table with a nudge of her toe. Socks follow, tucked into them. She straightens and nimble fingers pop open the brass buckle, slide off the belt, and the various pieces are folded quite neatly, crisply, on the edge of the table. By degrees, tattooed flesh is revealed, first the arms, as the jacket is slid off, then the legs, as the slacks follow. Fold, fold. Her dogtags jingle as she leans over again, to pile everything neatly, then straightens in the duel tank and tee combo, and a pair of fitted pinstripe boy short panties, which cover more than most swimsuits. Black and grey tattoos cover most of her body, leaving parts of her back and tummy bare. She steps over to Karim, and points to the upper bunk near him. "This one?"

Samantha would like to think about the mission tomorrow, but there's no more information forthcoming except the assumptions they all normally make and a very, very attractive woman with the best ink she's seen in years is getting nude in front of her. And asking the CAG assumingly where his bunk is. A Marine. Sam's brain does so many turn arounds suddenly it's a surprise her ears aren't smoking. She blinks trying to process things as she just gets comfortable leaning against Martin. "…Ah… yeah. Always should be… prepared for the worst. Makes you sweat. Keeps you sharp. It's the unexpect which is the hardest to process." Like this very situation right in front of her.

Kai doesn't look up from his own shrugging off of clothing. Feast for the eyes that Salazar's ink may be (and, well, is). His jacket's hung up, and he drops down onto the edge of Mars' bunk in order to unlace and tug off his boots. Martin's watched for a long moment, then given a curt nod. "Fine. You're in. I want you on your A game, Black." His boots are kicked aside for some unsuspecting pilot to trip over, and he finishes tugging off his trousers— and tugging on a pair of fatigues. As to the AA guns, "We'll discuss the mission details in the briefing tomorrow. I suggest you both get some rest." On his feet again, he pads barefoot back over to his locker and peels off his tank tops last, replacing them with a faded t-shirt. The movement briefly jostles his dogtags. "That's the one," he informs Salazar with a tip of his chin to confirm. Dogs and cats sleeping together. What is the world coming to?

At first Martin thought that Salazar was merely getting comfortable. A few seconds later he realizes that she's undressing. Averting his eyes with the same relaxed privacy he gives everyone else in the bunk, he turns to look at Samantha instead. Having just offered himself up on the meat grinder, a place he hasn't had the chance to be at yet, Martin nods quietly. Eyes raising to Sam, that quiet look is sent in her direction. "…you can count on me, Spider." Martin says, downing the last of his liquor. Leaning towards Sam's ear, he whispers something quietly to her before he pulls back, gauging her reaction.

The pilot talk has little to do with her, so Salazar remains quiet on it. She reaches for the ladder, and climbs up the rungs to the top bunk without comment or fanfare. Come to think of it, she didn't even touch the CAG as she moved past him. And they're both being pretty low key. Maybe they're just frakkin' around with the pilots. She slides into the bunk, and there's shortly a comment: "You do not have enough pillows in here." Yeah, the S2 is up there in the King Pilot's bed, bitching about the accommodations and touching Gods know what. There's some shuffling around behind one of the curtains, and then she goes still up there.

Samantha leans closer to Martin, her eyes shutting a moment, quite comfortable in the man's arms. It's one of those nights, time for people to bed down with those they love. Danger on the horizon tomorrow… time to be human tonight. She turns her head, kissing against Martin's jaw line for a moment before hearing Salazar's words and laughing warmly. "I like the woman. Knows what she wants, at least. You two wanna borrow my pillow…I think I'm taken care of for the night." Sam calls over to the seeming lovers up there, and then she nods to Martin, moving closer to whisper something back him as they sink deeper into his bunk also.

Kai bangs his locker door shut, and flashes Samantha a brief, but dimpled smile before turning for his bunk ladder. "So do I." Like the woman, that is. And that, right there, is pretty damned telling. But he doesn't elaborate. "She's tough, Passi, she'll manage. Rest easy, you two." And then the Captain's clambering up the ladder and ducking inside. There's a pause, a bit more shuffling, and then the curtain's tugged closed. Is that a slap? Well, yes, maybe. She probably touched his stuff.

Martin's lip pulls into a smile as he kicks he pulls his tanktops off, leaning out of his bunk to set them into his locker. Closing the locker and spinning the combination, he sets that small piece of tape across like a void-warranty seal near the bottom of it. Chuckling, he grabs a pillow and swings his arm, sending it flying towards Spider's bunk. "Don't you ruin him, Green Slime." Martin says, using a famed expression for groundpounder intelligence. Closing the curtain to his own bunk, Martin disappears inside with Samantha, the shuffling a bit more apparent. Sleep isn't happening just yet.

"Ow." There's a soft mutter of, "Fine, you your ass can sleep without a pillow then," from the top bunk, presumably Salazar telling Karim how it is in the pillow situation. Something thuds against the wall in the bunk up there behind closed curtains. Then, mercifully, all is quiet(ish).

The lower bunk across the way is.. mostly… Quiet. Definitely not sleep happening, but they're almost respectful to those around. A few free laughs and one particularly loud cry and, otherwise, sleep will happen sooner or later. Still, it's a night to celebrate in all ways, and the two younger pilots are definitely enjoying their…celebrations.

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