Downtime In The Lounge
Downtime In The Lounge
Summary: Time spent in the lounge results in conversation, wistful thinking and friendly ribbing.
Date: PHD 213 (10-17-09)
Related Logs: None

General Lounge

A small group of personnel is milling about, some playing a game of Triad while a couple others are holding a debate as to which Pyramid teams were the best, the discussion swiftly becoming a tad heated thanks to the differing opinions on the subject. "Hey, I don't know anything about Pyramid," a female's voice shouts out, half-amused, half-annoyed. "Now if you want to talk about boxing…" That gets the owner of said voice laughed at by several people and the knot of Pyramid fans moves on, leaving Hadjara standing there. "Wh…hey, boxing's a legit sport!" Rolling her eyes, she stays where she is, her right hip cocked to the side, arms now folded under her chest as she glares at more than one back. "Frakking ignorant mother frakkers."

Stepping in on the tail end of the sports talk, is Kharon's CAG. He's in his flight gear, minus a helmet, and minus the usual quantity of sweat one might expect following a patrol. Which means he's probably yet to go out. The zipper on his flight suit is pulled down to his waist, and he's sporting a slightly damp-haired look like he recently took a shower. A couple of other pilots who'd been accompanying him, peel away to join the vociferous discussion on pyramid, while the Captain pauses to tuck a cigarette between his lips and light it. The dark-featured young woman is studied, in the meantime, with subtle amusement.

Hadjara shakes her head and sighs, smirking to herself as she lets the others go on, deciding not to rejoin them and their discussion. It isn't until she turns to find somewhere to sit that she realizes she's being watched, her gaze catching that of Kai's in the middle of pivoting on the heel of a boot. "Good day, sir." She doesn't go as far as to salute the Captain but she does bow her head politely, perhaps due to a lack of knowledge protocol-wise. "How are you?"

The lack of salute's not commented upon. Then again, this isn't a duty area. Just ignore the flight suit he's half zipped into. "Evening, Ensign," is the senior officer's quiet greeting, on the heels of a brief glance to her collar. It's polite enough, though a touch on the gruff side. "Craving a good side of steak and a beer." Hey, at least he's honest. The lighter's shoved back into one of his flight suit's many pockets, and he eases into a chair with a long breath blown through his nose. "Recent enlistee?"

"That actually sounds very good. Minus the beer. Not much of a drinker, due to my training." Jara gives that information as easily as she might give someone her name, it said without a second thought. Same with answering his question, Kai's query given a rapid reply that requires little in the way of pondering first. "No sir. I've been here since just before the Cylons' first attack on the Colonies." Her hands are placed behind her back as she speaks, stance widened as she assumes 'at rest'.

Kai smokes while Hadjara speaks, his attention mostly diverted off to one side like he's wary of making eye contact. When she mentions having been here for so long, his eyes travel back to her, and do a little down-up flick over the younger woman. "I guess you haven't been on shift in CIC, when I've been up there." It sounds very faintly apologetic. "You can sit down, if you want. I don't bite." His hand drapes out over his knee, thumb tapping the filter to dust off some ash. "Hard." Teasing? Possibly. It's said so dryly, that it's difficult to tell.

Hadjara smiles. "Probably not. And I had kept mostly to myself until recently which didn't help as well, undoubtedly." Kai's offer of a seat is accepted, Hadjara picking somewhere that'll allow for their conversation to continue easily without being so close that it'd be improper. "Ensign Sharifa. Pleasure meeting you." She extends her hand, it offered to the Captain, her smile widening at how he mentions biting. "That's more than fine sir but I have to warn. I'll bite in return and I don't hold back."

Kai appears to be left-handed, given the way he smokes, but the handshake's met with his right. "Captain Marek. Khosh amadid, Ensign." The words are spoken with a rough, almost throaty burr that's unmistakably Sagittarian in origin— assuming Sharifa knows her languages. Her hand is gripped firmly, then released as he settles back in his chair again. "Is that so." There's a slight twitch at the corners of his mouth. "Sure you're not a viper jock?"

Unfortunately whatever it was that Kai said in the other language is lost on Jara who knows only the more commonly spoken language but she tries not to make it too obvious, the fact that she's not exactly what one would call 'book smart' still a bit of a sore spot with her. "The only jockeying I do is DRADIS jockeying. Not quite as exciting as being a pilot but it has its moments."

Kai doesn't elucidate upon what the words mean. Could be 'nice tits' as easily as 'your breath smells like donkey farts'. Who the hell knows. "Piloting isn't all hair-raising stunts and death defying maneuvers, either," he answers mildly. "Besides." He exhales smoke away from the young woman. "I've heard that some of the highest suicide rates are among the CIC crew. High stress job."

Hadjara nods. "Very true, sir. Probably because of the high level of responsibility. The XO and I had touched briefly upon that very subject not that long ago." There is a pause and she then looks around, trying to see if there is anyone else looking before she leans closer to Kai. "Sir, could I possibly get a cigarette off of you?" There's a blush now, the ECM looking fairly embarrassed, acting as if she just asked the CAG to help her do something against regs, not ask for a smoke.

The blush, and the secretive manner in which the request is phrased, get a slightly raised brow in response. Kai, in contrast, doesn't move from where he's slouched in his chair. "Sure," he answers diffidently, blue eyes betraying not a whit of emotion. "But it'll cost you."

Hadjara licks her lower lip and then nods, her eyes lowering to the Captan's chin level, just enough to demure herself to Kai without totally going submissive on him. "Name the price." She's not sure what she's getting into but right now the need for some nicotine is too great to ignore, compelling her to do whatever that'll be asked of her.

There's a pause of perhaps three beats. Four, at the most. The lounge isn't a quiet place even during the heaviest duty rotations, so what steals in between them can't quite be termed a silence. The CAG flicks some ash from his cigarette, peppering the deck beside his boot, then brings the filter to his lips again. He shifts onto one hip to withdraw his pack of smokes, and slides one out before offering it between two fingers. "Tell you what. You can owe me." He gives it a little wiggle.

It really takes a lot to throw Ensign Sharifa but Kai's done a good job, it leaving him gawked at for a while before she realizes he's holding out the very item she had requested. "Just let me know what you'd like when the time comes and I'll do it." The cigarette's slipped from between the fingers it's held in and looked at as one might look upon the gods, her expression just about adoring. "Thank you very much."

He might just be playing her. It's certainly possible. But if he is, there's no punchline given. The cigarette's relinquished fair and square, the pack shoved back into a pocket of his flight suit, and he checks his watch briefly. Still a few minutes until shift. "No problem," he murmurs. "Don't spend it all in one place, and all that."

Hadjara would ask for a light as well but has already put herself out there by asking for the cigarette so refrains, the small cylinder-like item instead tucked behind an ear until later. "Will do. Thanks again." Her back is allowed to press against the back of the seat she has claimed and her legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles, the Captain sized up and obviously so, Jara doing noting to try and cover up how she does. "Do you box, by chance?"

Judging from his lit cigarette, Kai probably does have a lighter. It isn't offered. Maybe he was waiting to see if she'd ask. "Not a problem," he repeats, this time with a very subtle crinkling at the corners of his eyes as if a smile's forthcoming. Which, of course, it isn't. "I have," he answers the query, "but not well." The blatant study doesn't garner so much as a flinch from the older man; his own eyes remain at her cheek, just to the left of her mouth. "I hit the gym before morning shift, though, if you're ever looking for a shitty sparring partner."

Captain and Ensign are sitting, the pair holding what can easily be considered to be a casual conversation, Hadjara smiling like the Cheshire Cat now. "I doubt you're shitty, sir, but I can always take it easy on you if need me to." There's a faint boast mingled in with the suggestion, that made to try and poke at Kai's spirit of competition, assuming he has one as many pilots do. "I will most definitely look for you. Should be fun. Be a good workout for both of us." The faint weight of the cigarette that she has tucked behind her ear finally causes her to cave in and she reaches up, snagging it quickly. "May I get a light please, sir, or will that wind up costing me more?" The right corner of her mouth quirks up some, giving her a playfully-cocky-yet-marginally-sheepish expression.

This time, the Ensign manages to coax a flicker of a smile out of Kai. It doesn't stick around, but there's no mistaking the brief flash of teeth, wonky incisors and all. "Take it easy on me." He dutifully digs for his lighter, then tosses it across to Hadjara. The insignia on it is faded, but it's definitely not navy. Looks suspiciously like CMC property. The only question is, who did he have to knock unconscious and go through their pockets, to get it. "Just don't tell my pilots." About taking it easy on him. "I'd never hear the end of it." So much for a stick jockey ego. "Haven't decided yet what it'll cost you. Maybe I'm just bullshitting you, Sharifa."

The hatch creaks and admits another dark-haired woman, though she's got considerably darker hair. Marissa eases herself through the hatch, following her habit of opening doors as little as possible, and shuts it behind her awkwardly, one hand being taken up with a plastic bottle wrapped closely in a strip of rubbery foam. She waves casually at Hadjara, then glances at her conversation-mate and freezes momentarily. It's only a momentary halt, but there's nothing subtle about that wildlife-in-the-headlights look.
Well, too late to retreat now. Kai gets a casual wave once Marissa can move again (microseconds later), and the sweats-clad Ensign finds a seat at a slightly more than polite distance. They're smoking, after all.

Hadjara catches the lighter, barely giving it a look as she lights it and puts flame to smoke, it taking only a couple puffs to get the cigarette going. The lighter's then returned, it held out opposed to tossed, Jara not trusting her aim tonight. "I won't tell them…wait. What am I not supposed to tell?" She shakes her head and laughs at herself. "You -might- be bullshitting me but I will go ahead and assume that you are indeed tacking on a price for every single, small favor I might ask so I won't be surprised when you come and make me repay." Seeing Mimi, Jara waves and smiles. "Good evening."

Mimi takes a long pull from the bottle in her hand, only glancing up when she's done. A little sigh escapes her as she opens her mouth to speak, but it doesn't stop her from speaking. "Good evening," she replies, with a faint, friendly smile. She makes no move to get any closer.

There's a chuckle from the CAG, the crow's feet making a reappearance as he leans in to retrieve his lighter. "You're a smart girl." He rolls it deftly from his palm, to between two of his fingers in order to gesture to Hadjara with it. "Now I know for sure you're not a pilot." It's slid back into his flight suit with a crunch of neoprene as he shifts in his chair. "How's shit, Ensign?" he addresses Mimi across the way, before dragging off his cigarette again.

"Appropriately shitty, sir," Mimi answers, not looking his way. When you look into the abyss, the abyss looks into you, don'cha know. She leans uncomfortably back into her seat.
Marissa's sigh is missed by the other Ensign as there's a lot of activity going on, people coming and going and chatting, that putting the ambient sound at a fairly high volume. Kai beats he to the punch where asking Marissa how she doing goes, getting Jara to refrain so she won't parrot him but Mimi's reply gets her to blink and look between the two of them, first at her and then the CAG and then back to her. "Something going on?"

"That's why they call it shit," returns the CAG with equal blandness. Where eye contact is shirked, he makes no effort to enforce it. He also makes no effort to press for further conversation; Marissa's on her own there. He drops his head back against the chair's threadbare cushion, and exhales a column of smoke toward the ceiling while he counts down to his duty shift. The unzipped flight suit implies that he's got an upcoming patrol.

"Nothing a 100-kiloton bomb couldn't fix," Marissa replies, looking to Hadjara and shrugging simply. Some things just don't explain well, especially out of context. "Pardon me, but I'm curious about something. The Boss says you're not a pilot. What are you, ma'am?" Respect is due. After all, the Southern Aquarian is only a /provisional/ Ensign.

Hadjara takes a small drag, it being minuscule compared to those the CAG takes of his cigarette, perhaps enough to make how seldom she smokes obvious, only to exhale quickly, letting the smoke hang about her head in a bluish-gray haze. "Hmmm. Am sorry to hear that." The way Marissa doesn't offer to explain keeps Jara from asking, making it a good thing that she was asked a question otherwise there'd be another stall in the conversation. "I'm an ECM. Get the fun of watching the DRADIS for bleeps." She can't help but to grin when she says that, the woman not minding her job in the least.

Kai doesn't interrupt the conversation. He's busy making smoke rings. And he's not too bad at it, either. Oh, the things pilots do for kicks.

Mimi grins. "Sounds like half of my old job. The other half was flying," she says, caution around the CAG momentarily forgotten. "Bridge?" An educated guess… or just a dumb question. Where else do they have DRADIS besides in the strike and support craft?

Hadjara nods. "Yup. I'm basically the Kharon's version of an ECO. What about you? Are you a pilot?" Kai's silence gains him her attention, Jara watching the Captain like a hawk between the times she's addressing Marissa directly. "Oh. I am sorry. I can't remember if I gave you my name or not," she says, giving Mimi and apologetic wince, "I'm Hadjara Sharifa."

If the Captain had a shred of gentlemanly manners, he'd probably have introduced the two women by now, himself. But he was apparently raised by wild jungle apes, so he doesn't. Once or twice, his blue eyes find Hadjara's, but he's mostly occupied by smoking his cigarette and trying to wake up.

"A pilot hopeful. /Very/ hopeful," Mimi replies. "But at this rate, I'll probably be flying by the time I get false teeth, assuming there's anybody left to make 'em." She offers a stick-calloused hand. "Marissa Delann, but just call me Mimi. Everybody else does."
She glances over at the sleepy-looking CAG, and the wheels in her head turn. But for the moment she doesn't do anything with the no-doubt-scurrilous thoughts being generated.

Hadjara slips her hand into Marissa's, giving her hand a squeeze that's kept gentle, her own hand soft in comparison's to the pilot's. "Hopeful's good, though. Means you haven't given up. Don't worry, sister," Jara smiles while falling back on Aquarian tradition, "It will all happen when it's meant to happen." She doesn't quite fall into philosophy or talk of the gods but she comes close, sounding a bit more intellectual for that. Giving Kai a sidewards look, she tries to draw him into the conversation, partially out of the desire to be polite as well as out of curiosity over what his point of view on the subject is. "What do you think, sir?"

The CAG seems oblivious to the thoughtful look he's getting from Marissa. But it could be a ruse. Spiders do stuff like that, y'know. "You're coming in a little too heavy on your landings," he murmurs, smoke filtering out his nose while he speaks, and his head still resting back against the chair. "Other than that, you've been doing as well as, or better than the other recruits." He, obviously, does actually read Fenris' training logs.

"Giving up isn't in the family nature," Mimi replies. "I just wish it was meant to happen a little sooner. I feel like I'm running in place."
She blinks at Kai, a little surprise flickering across her face. "They're getting better," she mutters. Going from no gravity to full gravity in a blink is still tricky for her. But she's never damaged the Raptor. Well, nothing a little wrenchwork on the 'gear wouldn't fix, at least.

This is pilot territory here, land Hadjara has never set foot upon, causing her to fall silent now. She contents herself with listening and smoking, the latter done lazily while the former is done with both ears, what's said given her full attention.

Speaking of takeoffs and landings, the bustle of booted feet in the corridor signals shift change time, and the Captain takes one last drag off his cigarette before dropping it to the deck. "Good," he tells Marissa as he pulls to his feet. "First thing a pilot needs is a stubborn streak." He yanks up the zipper on his flight suit, checks his watch once more, and ticks off an informal salute to the pair on his way to the hatch. "Have a good evening, ladies."

"First thing a /first-time/ pilot needs is a stubborn streak. First thing an /experienced/ pilot needs is time in the air," Marissa politely disagrees. "Which you don't get in classrooms. See you later, sir. Bag many turkeys, for the larder is bare. Maybe some sparrows for seasoning."
She looks back to Hadjara, seeing that thoughtful look on her face. "Okay, what's percolating in that brain of yours?" she asks, trying not to smile. The smoking Ensign looks like an old totem from Southern Aquarian folklore.

"Fly well, sir…" Grinning, she watches Kai once he turns around, giving the back view of the man a very obvious ogling for a while. "What's going through my mind," she murmurs to the lady pilot, "Is how I'd love to give that man a good tumble and I'm not talking about sparring with him in the ring." Clearing her throat, she looks up and smiles dreamily, looking for the life of her like she's actually thinking about -that- now. "He's soft on the eyes, isn't he? Too bad he's the CAG…"

Kai probably doesn't catch all of that, though he's not entirely oblivious. A brief sidelong glance is sent over his shoulder, eye contact not quite made with the still-seated Hadjara. "I'll see what I can manage, Delann." He dodges a couple of marines coming in, and starts slapping down pressure seals as he ducks out the hatch.

"Hmm. He actually /does/ have a sense of humor…" Marissa muses, before she really understands what Hadjara just said. Good thing she wasn't drinking anything at the time. "Wait… wha..? /Him?/ Sure, he's good-looking, but don't put your lips on him. They'll freeze in place, and I'll have to get a cup of warm water to get you loose!" she says, staring in fascinated horror at Hadjara.

The doors to the lounge open and Castor Leda's follows through with putting one foot in front of another as the pilot makes his way in to the room. In his hand for once is absolutely nothing - not a blessed thing - no cards or any other sort of small trick to keep his fingers busy. There isn't much of an expression on his face and he just trudges over to the vending machines as he counts how much stuff is gone out of the machine for ever and he says, "Well, there goes my favorite soda." He hasn't made contact with anyone in the room, yet.

"What?" Jara can't help but to smile broadly, amused as all frak thanks to Marissa's reaction to her having said what she did about Captain Marek. "So you're saying he's cold, hmm? Maybe it'll just take the right woman to warm him up." She's cocky, sure, and from how she's going on she just might consider herself to be that woman, the kind who could warm the CAG clear down to his cockles, as the old saying goes. "Anyhow, don't need to be all shocked, sister. I know where to frak and who to frak. And he's not on the list of those who are frakkable…godsdamnit." Shaking her head, she takes one final drag off of her cigarette and snuffs it out in a nearby ashtray, getting a glimpse at Castor from across the room. "Hey, sir. How's that glass jaw of yours?"

"You /sure/ you're not a pilot? You have the attitude," Mimi observes, managing a faint smile. Not like it's the first time she hasn't been taken seriously. Then again, maybe Hadjara knows something she doesn't. It's not like she sees the CAG much. Or any of the other 'real' pilots, unless it's in the bunkroom.
Someone else coming in brings her attention to him. "Cas… hey," she says, managing a faint smile and a wave. And a puzzled expression for Hadjara, likely to be the first of many. Glass jaw?

Castor looks up at Jara and it looks a bit like a small animal looking up from the safety of its hole in the ground and a strange look comes over his face, "Hmm?" He says, "As I recall I held my own with you for a long time so if by glass you mean diamond than it is fine." And as he looks over at Mimi and a huge smile suddenly appears on his face and he says, "Hey ya Mimi." He looks over at Mimi and he adds, "She was a professional boxer and we sparred."

Hadjara shakes her head. "I'm sure I'm not a pilot." She grins and gives Marissa a wink but then lets it drop, the subject of how she'd bed the CAG left alone for the sake of being proper in front of the higher ranking officer. "No, I did not fight professional, sir. I fought at the amateur rank. Would have gone professional, but…" That's not something she wishes to discuss so lets it hang at that. "No offense sir, but I meant what I said. You have a glass jaw. All it took was one good hit and you were laid out."

"It's hard to tell, but I'll take your word for it," Mimi says, winking back at Hadjara, then subsiding on a subject she's more than glad to let drop. Her imagination hurts just thinking about it. "Professional boxer? You don't give lessons, do you? I learned a little So Setsu Ken back home, but my hands are faster than my feet."
She slowly rises, moving over to hug Castor. It's a little awkward when her arms close around him, but he might need the soothing right now. "You have other talents, Cas," she reminds him gently. "Don't have to be good at everything, ya know."

Castor shrugs at Hadjara, "Well, that is why they give me a sidearm." He then adds with a bit of a wink, "And I think you got a lucky shot in." He then looks over at Mimi, "You learned So Setsu Ken? Whoa, I just learned how to fight dirty on the streets." However, as he is hugged Castor smiles softly and gives a gentle squeeze back because he actually does need a bit of soothing. "So long as you are around Mimi I don't need to be good at everything since you are everything that is good."

"A little," Mimi replies, shrugging. "One of the staff at Calypso knew several martial arts. He said that one was best for me, with my height and leg reach." She slaps playfully at his hand. "And can the flattery, Aquilius. There's plenty bad about me."

Castor raises an eyebrow as his hand is slapped and he says, "Well, I'll keep that in mind." He smiles, "If you ever want to learn to box I can teach you somethings but I suspect our one hit wonder over there could teach you more." He then says, "Well, if there is something bad about you I honestly can't see it." Ah, fools in love, are there any other kind?

"Well, I'm not too proud to learn," Mimi replies. Not at some things, anyway. "And you just have to look closely. Pointing it out isn't fair to everybody else. They have to learn by experience, too."

"Listen to her, sir. Gods know I had to learn by experience myself. Got knocked out more than once before I learned to keep my defense up." Demonstrating, Jara raises her hands, keeping them close to her face while her arms are kept close to her sides, making for a small window of opportunity if she were standing, sitting ruining the effectiveness of the position. "We all got to learn from what life throws at us."

"Well, we all learn one way or another, you know? Me, I make a lot of mistakes and so I learn from those." He says, "In fact my last lesson is learning to keep my mouth shut. Hence the new callsign, Bubbles." He grimaces slightly as he remembers why he the callsign was changed.

Mimi winces faintly. "'Bubbles'? Ouch." She tries not to smile, but can't quite keep it down. "On the bright side, if you've got it they can't give it to me."
Hadjara's observation draws a faint smile and a casual slip into stance, feet apart, knees slightly bent, forward foot side-on to an imaginary opponent, back foot heel forward, leading arm at her side with her forearm shielding her vitals, palm open, the other arm lifted to shoulder level and bent double, palm open, ready to strike or grab as necessary. She's only in it for a moment, then lets herself relax.

Hadjara smirks. "You're Bubbles? Frak me. Seen your callsign somewhere…wow, was hoping that was a mistake or that it was a female pilot's callsign…" The hand that's closest to her left cheek is coughed into, Jara blushing a bit, picking -now- to be bashful (or at least feign being so), smirking against her knuckles. Marissa's own defensive stance gets a thumbs-up from her along with a broad grin, very impressed. "Looks good. Would be hard for someone like me to get through that, I think."

Castor looks at Mimi for a moment and he winks slightly, "Well, consider it a favor." His eyes follow Mimi as she moves and he raises an attitude, "Hey Mimi, remind me never to piss you off, like ever." He says this both half teasing and half serious. He then grins a big goofy grin, "You know, I am a well protected man right now." And then the smile fades when Hadjara ribs him on his callsign. Twice now she has ribbed him and the look on his face shows it.

"Leaves my face open, though," Mimi says, looking at her hands like they're shirking duty. "I don't need to do that. My face is the only pretty part of me. I kinda need it."
Castor's irritation practically radiates into the air. With that odd sixth sense of hers, Mimi reaches back and pats him on the side. "Easy, killer," she whispers. "That's what the names' for, right?" Not that she can't tell there are ego issues here between the two, but exacerbating them will only make things worse.

Hadjara smiles at Castor's look and waves to him, doing so like she's currently wearing a boxing glove, her fingers slightly curled in and her hand moved up and down instead of the side-to-side, open handed wave normally seen. Way too many years in the ring. "But you're forgetting that if you get in close enough they won't really be able to hit your face. Not with any real power, at least." That said to Mimi, of course.

Castor first looks over at Marissa and he smiles and says, "Its okay, this is why I have the callsign, so I get irritated so that I remember to keep my mouth shut." He then winks, "See, no spouting off." He then turns and looks at Hadjara and he says, "She is right Mimi."

"Yeah…" Mimi says in hesitant agreement, blushing. "But it's my /face/." Cas's explanation of the callsign makes her blush harder. "Sorry… 'm not good at psychology."

Hadjara stands up and flicks a bit of ash off of her uniform's pants, grunting a bit as she does. "I got to get ready for duty. If you guys would like some coaching, you know where to find me." Another odd wave is given to the pair and then she's making for the hatch, hurrying as if she's about to be late.

As Castor watches Mimi blush and he grins as he says, "Well, it was all Papabear's idea." He then takes a moment to says, "And as she has duty I have CAP." He then frowns, "Time to get up and get ready and get called Bubbles a whole lot more." He then smiles a slight smile as he says, "But I get to fly."

"Flying's the whole point, right?" Mimi grins and winks. "Fly well, Cas. Kill many sparrows and come back safe. We've got boxing training to cadge from the good Ensign, after all." She gives him an extra quick hug and slips past to find her way back to her quarters. Darned maze of a ship…

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