Give Me An Order Baby
Give Me An Order, Baby
Summary: Ashe & Jupes cross paths in the Head. What follows creeps her out.
Date: PH 040 (28 May 2009)
Related Logs: P-I-S-S O-F-F & Difference of Opinion

CEC Kharon, Deck 1, Head
IC Time: Post Holocaust Day #40
OOC Time: Thu May 28 16:30:02 2009

This is one of the busiest rooms on board the Kharon, despite this not being the only bathroom on board. Here, the crew comes to shower, relieve themselves, shave and wash up. People can be found wandering in and out no matter the hour of the day though its peak seems to fall around the shift changes. Save for the thick coats of gray non-slip paint across the floor, the whole room is done in stainless steel.

A long line of sinks and mirrors down the center effectively divide the room into two parts. To the Fore is a series of toilets, doors able to lock against intrusion on the occupants. On the Aft end of the room is a long maze of shower stalls which, like the toilets, have lockable doors with a verity of handholds and hooks. Each stall is just large enough to provide the users with enough space to bring their own toiletries and towel in with them and not soak everything.

The shower's running, and there are a few people milling around in the Head. A couple of Deck crew finish up with their teeth, and turn to head out the hatch. The rest slowly trickle out, but who knows how long it'll be until someone else walks in. A pile of clothing and a towel are folded on a bench next to a little clear clutch of toiletries.

As Ashe approaches into the Head, he pauses as he runs into a few people he recognizes, throwing off a salute while standing at attention as they pass. A polite "Sir." Is offered to each of them, most likely grabbing an odd look considering it is the head. But Marines, what can you do? Once all have passed, the man shakes his head and limps his way into the Head fully to set his stuff down and begin peeling away wardrobe. "Aw… frak that stings." He mutters to himself, rather oblivious of potential others nearby. See no evil, know no evil.

Jupiter isn't evil. She's just misunderstood. There's some rinsing off, then the shower's shut off. A jingle of dogtags rattles from the occupied stall. A hand reaches out of the stall for the towel… that isn't there. "Gods damn it." Mutter. The curtain is thrown back, and Jupes stalks out of the shower, pale skinned body a glorious haven of bruises, most notably the heavily purple marks from her viper's harness. Her right side seems to have taken the worst of it. She reaches up to brush her hands carefully through wet curls, and turns toward the bench where her stuff rests.

Frak. Then double Frak. Ashe blinks as he hears the sound of a siren. Wait, siren? Sorry, wrong imagery. Shrieking Eel. Rolling his eyes, he realizes far to late that the pilot is going to simply stride out naked. So turning, he faces as best he can at an angle that will completely allow him to avoid looking at the woman, hand snapping up to a salute and a crisp. "Sir." Is stated as he looks past Jupiter. His eyes are in the vicinity to classify as 'respectful' but it is very evident he is looking at the wall beyond.

They always grow louder when they're about to feed, Princess. I mean, highness. "… Frak you and your salutes." She bends to snag her towel, then loosely returns a lazy salute, since one was given. Attitudes aside, it's completely rude to ignore a salute. Jupiter snags her towel in one hand, shakes it out, and pats off her limbs. "The wall ain't gonna salute back." She wraps the towel around her body then, blissfully putting the girls away.

"Sir, protocol dictates that salute remains until dismissed, sir." Ashe's tone is so snapped, so clipped and military professional it almost oozes with contempt and mock. Almost. The glint in his eye certainly doesn't help nor the smug touch on his lips as he continues to look past her.

"No, it doesn't." Jupes picks up her bag of toiletries. "I'm naked and we're in the godsdamn head, marine. A salute isn't necessary unless given by a superior or demanded in off duty areas, and then they're still being an asshole. As you were." Jupes can give him a semi-dismissal if he really wants one. "I get it, though." Ziiip. She fishes out her toothbrush and some minty toothpaste. "Some guys like their orders."

The Salute drops but it is far from anything that would reflect as 'at ease' as Ashe's hands simply fall behind his back and feet at shoulder width in that standing position. "Sir, orders are what allow the Military to function, sir. It not a question of personal preference, it is what is necessary."

"It's not necessary in the shitter," Jupiter replies, with a backward glance at Ashe. She gives him a brief up and down, as if trying to figure out what the frak possessed him. "Unless your CO is regulating your poops now."

"Sir, a Marine is always on duty, even when off duty, sir. Location does not deter necessity." Ashe continues to stand there eyes facing that far wall like he is on parade grounds being inspected. "Sir, observing strict professionalism has little to do with waste management, Sir."

"You're seriously frakking creeping me out right now," Jupiter replies. She shoves her toothbrush into her mouth. Brush, brush, brush. Spit. Rinse, rinse. She peers around the mirror at Ashe. She disappears behind it again. Brush, brush, brush. Spit. Rinse, rinse. Hm.

Jupes steps around the mirror, toothbrush still in mouth, other stuff in hand, and makes her way to the bench to collect her things. "You just went over my sir quota for the day." She pauses, in her gathering, arms full of clothing and boots and such. "Are you on drugs?"

"Sir, I follow all issued regulations regarding medications for recovery from injuries. So to accurately answer your question, Sir, yes I am but all have been prescribed by the medical personnel of this vessel. If you feel such prescriptions are in error I can report to sickbay to have them reevaluated, Sir." He is doing the whole thing with a completely straight face, sure there's a twinkle of extreme amusement in the corner of his eye but other than that he is maintaining 'super-perfect-over-achieving' soldier motif.

There is a pause of about four heartbeats from Jupiter at the tail end of Ashe's statement. Her blue eyes are steady on his profile as she watches him. She shoves her boots higher into her arms. "… This… I…" She blinks, and walks for the hatch, still in just a towel, bare feet slapping the floor. "I have to go." Byeeeee. Yep, that is the sound of Jupiter doing an internal WTF.

As the pilot departs, Ashe looks over his shoulder and shakes his head, smirking. Then he begins to prepare himself for climbing into the shower to being the operation of cleaning oneself and wounds.

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