Just a Cigar
Just a Cigar
Summary: Downtime in the Viper berthings. Jason brings over a cigar for Eddie.
Date: MD030
Related Logs: None.

Red Squadron Berthings

Berthings are relatively quite, most of the pilots are still exploring more exciting portions of the ship then where their racks are. Eddie, however, isn't so adventureous. She's currently exiting out of the showers, wrapped in a towel with another draped around her shoulders and yet a third twisted around her head.

Roubani is lying on on his stomach on his bunk, reading some hardback book. A pencil in hand, he sometimes stops the reading to scribble in the margins of the pages, or on the little notebook next to it. Scribbling appears to be what he's doing more of right now, the pencil gently whispering back and forth against the page.

Eddie can't really see what he's doing in there, but she sees the waggling pencil while she pads by, her bare feet slapping on the deckplating with a sort of wet sound like she didn't properly finish drying off before she wrapped up like a terrycloth mummy. "Solving the complexities of the universe again?" She asks, though it comes out more like an annoyed growl.

Roubani's pencil goes on scratching. His other hand props up his cheek, elbow braced against the mattress. He doesn't look up. "No."

Eddie looks back over her shoulder, "Rarrr." Her immitation of an angered cat is a little lacking, but she put a good deal of effort into it. "Still pissed about about your frakking laundry?" She asks, continuing back on her trek to her bunk, which she realizes is just one down from his. Double frak. With a sigh, she starts to peel the towel off her head.

"Nope." Roubani tucks the pencil behind his ear and turns a page in the book. At the foot of his bunk, his socked toes curl once and uncurl, comfortably. "Are you still pissed about the entire universe?"

Eddie rubs at her hair with the towel, getting a bit more of the moisture out of it. "That depends. Did the entire universe piss in my breakfast cereal this morning? If not, they get a reprieve until tomorrow." By the time she's done, her short locks are sticking out at odd angles that she does nothing to try and tame.

"I don't believe the universe relieves itself quite like that," Roubani sets his fingers on the page, skimming them downwards. "The worst it might have a little gas." She can't really see his face but he might be smiling. Somebody has to find astrophysics humour funny, even if it's only him.

Eddie quirks her head back to his bunk, then shakes it as if she doesn't quite get what he means by that. "There is a guy from the Deck crew whose organs I wouldn't mind rearranging, but he hardly counts as the whole universe." She swings off the towel that's draped around shoulders, tossing it up onto her bunk before reaching for a sweatshirt that was wadded up near the foot of it.

"You're so high-strung," Roubani sighs quietly. "The only organs you're going to be rearranging are your own when you end up with a bleeding ulcer before you're twenty-five." His dogtags make a quiet metallic chink as he shifts on the bed, searching around his pillow with his hand.

Eddie starts tugging on the sweatshirt, master at getting dressed without really showing any more flesh then is absolutely necessary. She's standing next to the bank of bunks of which she occupies the top, and Roubani is tucked up on his bunk one set down. "Too bad that's not fatal. Would save you the headache of having me around." She looks fresh out of the shower.

Roubani is in his sweatpants and tanks, the sweatshirt lying meticulously folded at the foot of the bed. On his stomach, he has a book open and a notebook beside it, a pencil tucked behind his ear. His face finally appears over the edge of the bed, arm folded on the edge of the mattress as he leans over it. "You are just brimming with self-hatred today," he says, mildly. "One deckhand's silliness can't be responsible for all this."

Jason knocks on the hatchway that leads into the red squadron berthings. Gentleman that he is. Or perhaps he's just wary of being blinded by Viper jock antics.

Eddie pops her head out of the neckline of her sweatshirt, so she can twist around to see the hatch, "Who the frak knocks?" She wonders aloud before giving her damp locks another toussle as if getting dressed some how messed it up. "Hey." She tells Roubani simply, "He didn't secure my ladder and I fell on my ass. That's where I store all my pride."

"I'm sorry," Roubani replies, sympathetically. "At least you didn't land on your sleeve. You might have hurt your heart." He turns his head as someone knocks, but really. Their bunks are in the corner of the room; he's not getting up. Some random JG heads over to see about this knocking mystery.

Jason ducks in once he's admitted. He thanks the JG who let him in, continuing this strange polite-thing of his. He's got a cigar held between his fingertips, and he idly toys with it as his eyes sweep the berthings. "Morales?" It takes him a second to spot her, but he manages it. "'Got something with your name on it."

Eddie's bottom half is still clad in terry cloth, and Jason catches her midway trying to shimmy into a pair of sweatpants. "Oh..uh hey." She apparently didn't actually expect him to make good…like…ever on that smoke thing. "Could you do me a favor?" She asks the newly arrived man. "Light it. Then go ahead and jab me with it right here in my arm. I want to dispel this whole theory that I have a heart."

Roubani rolls onto his side and sits up, his long legs folded indian style on the mattress. His dogtags clink softly against his chest as he rests his arms on his legs, folding his hands. He can watch from this safe, lofty position.

"I'm not much on burning my shipmates," Jason replies, lightly, but as if he's unsure whether to take it as a joke or not. "I didn't have time to engrave it, but I figured you wouldn't mind. Hey, Ensign." That last is directed at Roubani. He finds somewhere else to look while Eddie is shimmying, doing his best not to stare.

Eddie thankfully (or not) doesn't flash much flesh, nor does she believe in undergarments apparently. Hey, she was in a hurry to get dressed. She slings another wet towel up onto her mattress, enough to make the poor neat freak Roubani cry. "Well. Props for the personal delivery. And I was actually here, so you didn't have fend off the wolves." Properly ensconced in fabric that hides all her scars and scabs on arms and legs both, she finally turns to Jason fully.

Roubani wraps his dogtag chain around his index fingers, drawing it taut between them and studiously watching that instead of Eddie while she dresses. His dark eyes come back up to look at Jason and he presses the chain against the bridge of his nose. "Sir." He pauses and then says with apologetic caution, "I don't think I know your actual name, Lieutenant."

"S'okay. I'm a highly forgettable face," Jason says to Roubani. "And I can't recall if I got yours, either. I'm Jason Thayer. Use whichever one of those you prefer." The cigar is handed to Eddie. "Don't smoke it too fast. Ruins the flavor. They sell them in a little shop in the university district in Caprica City. Supposedly they roll them there, too, but I think that might just be a gimmick for the college kids."

Eddie pinches it between her fingers, levelling it off under her nose while she gives it a good sniff. "Wait? You're a sir?" The next is grumbled beneath her breath. "Shit." Though there's a faint curl of her lips into a smirk. "That's Rubix. And I'm Eddie." Lacking a cigar clip, she looks like she's ready to just gnaw the end of it off so she can light it up.

Roubani turns a subtle shade of red at the nickname. "Nadiv Roubani," he supplies to Jason. "I hadn't forgotten your face. Calling you Astronomer forever just didn't seem right." He offers a cautious smile. "Did you figure out the cigarette pack latitude problem?" He glances at Eddie, watching her futz with the cigar the way someone might watch a gerbil to see if it figures out how to get water out of its tube. "Does that really taste good?" He asks in a doubtful manner.

"Barely," Jason says with a rather sheepish grin at all the sir'ing. "Just a jig. If you hang around long enough, I think they feel obligated to give you more metal. Anyway, pleased to be acquainted and everything. I'm still putting names to faces where the Viper pilots are concerned. I'm a back-seater, myself. ECO." He turns to Roubani. "Rubix? Oh, I get it. Call sign, right?" He doesn't answer about the latitude thing, though the cigar question gets a nod. "I guess it's an acquired taste. It's decent-grade tobacco. I started smoking in undergrad. Helped me focus. Or it seemed like it did."

Being the type to swig Champagne right out of the bottle, why should Eddie treat the cigar any more respectfully? She does, in fact, snick the end off with her teeth and spit the nub into her palm. At least she has the presence of mind to walk over and deposit it in a nearby ashtray instead of on the floor. "I'll give you a puff, big boy, if you ask your mommy first." She ribs Roubani. Because she can.

Roubani doesn't address the callsign question. To the latter part of Jason's explanation though, he says agreeably, "I suppose some people think better when their mouths are busy." Eddie's comment makes his hands fold again, set. "No, thank you."

"Umm…I guess," Jason says non-committally as to thinking better with one's mouth busy. He shrugs. "It's not the nicest habit, but it gives me something to do with my hands."

Eddie clamps the big roll between her teeth, which looks comically large compared to the cigarettes she normally smokes. "Its calming." Even talking around the damn thing is harder. "You're the one that said I was too high strung." Obviously aimed at Roubani who she has the tendancy to make clam up tighter than a duck's arse in water. "So you gotta light, sir?"

"You are," Roubani replies to Eddie, matter-of-factly. Judgment has been made and clearly it's going to stay that way. He continues to observe this interaction on the floor, raising an eyebrow.

Eddie's cheeks sink in then puff out as she takes in a mouth full of smoke. Unlike cigarettes, she doesn't cycle it through her lungs, merely holds the smoke in her mouth. When she exhales, its in a purposeful cloud towards Roubani's bunk. "Guess you better hope I don't run outta smokes, then." She raises the cigar towards Jason, "Thanks, mate."

Roubani makes a muted cough through his nose. He stretches his legs out again and shifts around, half of him disappearing from sight up there. A page rustles as it turns.

"I always pay my debts," Jason says simply to Eddie, pocketing his lighter. He offers Roubani an apologetic shrug when he hears the cough. Clearly he forgets the plight of non-smokers. "Anyway, now that I've polluted your quarters, I should take my leave. Later, Eddie. Nadiv." He's going real names over nick-names like Rubix.

Eddie smiles a little more plainly. "Jason. Sir." She takes a few steps away from Roubani's bunk, more like a meander, but at least she's not longer smoking him out. "Stop by anytime you have more debts. I'll gladly collect on them. Good stuff." She muses as she goes back to her bunk and starts to paw wet towels off her bed, of which there are three.

Roubani's face isn't visible to them, but his soft voice drifts down. "Goodnight, Jason." His use of the Lieutenant's first name sounds hesitant, but hey, he does it.

Jason leaves the Viper pilots to their own devices, now that he's brought them smoke. Out the hatch he goes.

Jason heads through the exit labeled <H> Hallway.
Jason has left.

Eddie sets the cigar to smolder in a little plastic ashtray in her bunk, seems she's not done torturing Roubani this evening, or maybe is just a strange ploy for company. Either way she's coming back to his bunk, stepping on the one beneath it to vault herself up on her elbows and peer inside his private space. "Whaaaachadoooin'?"

Roubani's private space is impeccably organised, but that shouldn't shock anyone. A few books, a stack of notebook, cup of pencils that looks organised by their length. There's a row of post-it notes going across his shelf with hastily scribbled equations and notes on them. One small photograph in a frame of himself at about eighteen or so, standing next to two other men, and older woman, and a slightly younger woman. They look strongly related. "Nothing." The book is open but he's not paying attention to it. "Between things, I suppose."

Eddie gives a sweeping glance to his belongings, trying to hide her smile between her normal tough facade, but it still eeks through. Quickly enough her eyes settle back on him. Right. She should say something witty here, something…fantastically insightful or endearing at the least. Instead she just uncomfortably asks, "That your family?"

It's obvious what she's indicating, but Roubani lifts his head and looks at the photograph anyway. "Sisters and brothers." Though the photo doesn't look like forced posing, nobody in it is touching each other. "Do you have any?"

Eddie stays hooked there on the edge of his bunk like a cat who didn't quite make the leap it had intended, though at least she has a foot on the mattress beneath her to keep her steady so she doesn't have to dig her claws into his. Good thing no one is home downstairs. "Newp." She pops the 'p' and settles her chin down on one of her arms. "One brat was enough for my folks. Big family. Lots of love." She says dryly.

It doesn't seem that Roubani is going to invite her to get any more comfortable than that. "Do you have children?" He asks rather out of the blue. Who knows why.

Eddie considers that for a moment, lips furled into her mouth to be rewet by an unseen tongue. "You know what? I think I'm actually tired. I'm gonna go stub out that cigar and catch some rack time." She gives a little laugh, though it seems forced. "That Captain Marek can sure be a hardass some times, you know? Better to be bushy eyed and bright tailed." She's slithering away.

"Indeed." Roubani's tone is hard to define. Hesitant, maybe, but he's far too polite to say anything else. After a second he offers, randomly, "I'm sorry." His fingers flip open his book again.

Eddie is back on the floor, shoulders pulled up to her ears again as she skulks back to her bunk. "I only rag on you because you're an okay cat, ya know." She informs him simply, before she starts to climb into her own little cave, leaving the wet towels in a puddle on the floor. The curtain surrounding her bunk makes a clatter on the rails as she starts to tug it closed, smoke still billowing out from the cracks in it as she retakes up smoking the cigar. Seems she's not as tired as she let on.

Roubani 's expression looks bewildered by her comment. He turns his eyes down on the book without saying anything back. It's not until a little while later that something thumps under her curtain withou disturbing it too much. Her towels, folded neatly over the footrail.

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