Kashmiri Cool
Kashmiri Cool
Summary: Aggie and Kai finally come face to face long enough to recognize each other. Beckett is around just long enough to catch the drift, and Kashmiri ensues.
Date: PH 103 (31 July 2009)
Related Logs: None

CEC Kharon, Deck 1, Officer Quarters
IC Time: Post Holocaust Day #103
OOC Time: Fri Jul 31 14:33:02 2009

In addition to the two lines of bunks on each side of the room, there is a table which looks to have been purchased privately. While still metal, the nigh post-modern design isn't the standard dull Navy fare, having simple designs inlaid on the legs. Where typically a third row of bunks would reside, a large green couch has been somehow manhandled into this berthing and set against the wall. A cheap wooden end table with a coffee machine has been brought in as well to cap the couch. Someone, who was a rather good artist, has stenciled the Kharon's Colonial logo centered on the wall as well, just above the couch. Its yellow design shaded well with dark hues of gray to give it a three-dimensional effect that even follows the details of the lettering.

"Well. She -" comes Wil's initial attempt at a response as he stands there with his knuckles wrapped around the locker door. He finally seems awake from his nap, as it were. Maybe this alertness has resulted in discretion or just unwillingness to wander into the general neighborhood of that topic. "Yeah. That." Now, he's got that out of the way, simply nodding at Roubani, or rather, in his wake.

As one leaves, another enters and Persy's approach is noted with a slight knitting of his brows and, tenatively, a closed-mouthed smile. "Uh." He looks over at the figure on the couch. Not curiously, more like warily. He shifts his head a few inches and blinks at the blonde CIC officer. "Persephone." He just uses the whole name here. The smile turns a bit abashed. "What do you mean? Oh," looking down at a red mark which has turned a bit purple, the pale-skin curse is in full swing. He bruises easily, at least from a visual standpoint but they always look three times as bad as they truly are. "The fight. I decided to go after all." He extends his left arm stiffly. It's a tad sore but nothing stretching won't overcome.

In through the hatch comes… a dentist. THE dentist, actually. The ships too small to have many of those hanging about. How often does someone need a root canal on a mission cruise? Dr. Beckett is undoubtedly headed for a change of clothes after a long shift up in Medical. Her dark hair is pulled free of its barette as she moves through the berth.

Persy looks a bit taken aback. "Per-seh-phone-ee," she echoes Wil's formality, bemused. "Ohhh-kay." She shrugs and clambers up into her bunk, unlacing her boots. "Did you beat 'em up good?"

Kai is awake. Nominally. Of course, he's also probably got a kink in his neck for having konked out on the couch in such an awkward position, but them's the breaks. He scrubs his hands over his face once or twice, then fumbles for the papers on his lap, knocking a few to the floor in the process. So much for burning the midnight oil.

"It's a good name." Wil says as he practices some shoulder-popping, arm-stretching motions with a brief narrowing of his eyes. 'A little sore, a little sore' indeed. "I'll avoid using it if it really bothers you, y'know," he says with a sidelong glance to the smaller Libran, now perching in the bunk. He fumbles around in the locker a moment more and having retrieved just about everything he was searching for, zips up his bag. Oh, his boots, he pulls them out too. They are tossed aside, carelessly. "Oh. Technically, I won." There's no real sense of accomplishment or pride in his voice. Maybe a little satisfaction as he grins up at Persy tightly, but that's as far as it goes. His gaze diverts slightly to the now-conscious CAG on the couch.

Aggie pauses as a sheaf of papers go spilling across the floor at her feet. Her boots come up short and she bends to gather some up, seeing as they're in her way. Shuffle, shuffle. Her white coat is nondescript, and her dark hair falls forward across her cheek, a shiny curtain to hide her identity for a moment. Dentist germs, dentist germs! She rises to all of her five feet (and one inch!) and straight arms the papers back at the sleepily rumpled guest in the berths. She might glance over them in the process. "Here's your crap." Maybe she hasn't had her coffee.

"Maybe it's just because I was only 'Persephone' by parents — or the au pair — when I was in trouble." Persy wrinkles her nose, mirthfully. The cheer ebbs considerably, though, in very short order. "You don't look so good, Wil."

One man would argue that, that is on par for the good doctor. However, that one is coming in almost in a grump himself. Quietly, he manages to weave around the diminutive dentist in a path right to his lockers. his blue jacket is slowly and methodically unbuttoned, before it is tossed onto the lower bunk, right under his own. Not even a glance back and over as he beings to unbuckle his holster and roll it up before putting it on the top shelf of his locker-sliding it to the back. CIC has been a mess, and when one stands as Officer of the Watch, one's brain can feel utterly and overly drained. As such he's reaching in for a dull cigarette case, with a lighter strapped to the back. Both are tossed in the direction of the table, as then he is kicking out of shoes, and shimmying out of pants.

Lieutenant Josef Beckett is a creature of habit-and right now that habit seems to include leaving his blues on the immaculate lower bunk.

"Tell me nobody left me any surprises in magic marker on my forehead, Rebound," mumbles the Captain-on-the-couch, fingers rubbing at it absently. Maybe he's genuinely worried about this happenstance, or maybe he's just got a headache. As Aggie stoops to retrieve his papers, he shuffles up onto one elbow and reaches for them with a murmured 'thanks'. And then pauses, and tilts his head slightly to try to catch her eyes. Waitaminute. "Nyx?" It's spoken somewhat warily, in the tone of voice reserved for someone who might've found a fly in his soup.

The naturally-curious red-haired pilot who has so unceremoniously crashed the more proper Officer's quarters where -nothing goes on EVER- clicks his tongue and looks from person to person, trying to fight off a smirk at the Doc. Well, dentist, who just so casually handed the CAG his papers back. Fighting smirk. Fighting smirk. Failure. He says to Kai, simply, "Uh. I think you're clean, Sir. I haven't seen Fingers around. I dimly remember her making threats as I passed out after the party a couple of weeks ago." Nudging the gym bag with his sock-clad foot, he kicks it over to the ladder by the bunk Persy's currently sitting in and glances back at her. "Yeah. Well, I get it then. Unwanted associations. Was that usually delivered in the 'trouble voice?' He pads a few steps away from the locker after it closes and stands next to the gym bag as he looks up at her and offers, "My parents never used nicknames. Even when they were around. So serious, all the time. 'Willem, careful with that. Willem, would you like to go to the museum? Make sure you write up a report on what you find.' Oh, the perils of only-childhood. That probably explains a -lot- about his various twinges of social awkwardness. "I feel fine, more or less." He downplays the bruising. "Just took a few hits. One day I'll go to one of those things and -stop- drawing Marines."

"Get your shit off my b—" Aggie begins, without turning around to watch the CIC officer sully her bunk with his uniform bits. And then, of course, the couch crasher has to go and use her maiden name. She glances over, papers still in hand. Aggie drops those frakkers like they're hot. Papers rain down on the couch, Kai, and at least one hits the floor again. "Marek." If Karim's found a fly in his soup, Aggie's just stepped in a warm and squishy surprise whilst tiptoeing through the tulips. The flow of Willem's monologue fills the silence on the other end of the berths, where Aggie and Kai stare at each other. "How the frak did you get into the military?"

The shower, which has been going on and off in navy fashion, finally goes off and stays that way. It's still a while before the occupant returns, as Roubani took the time to fully dress while out of sight. Fatigue pants, T-shirt, socks, dogtags, towel around his shoulders to catch any residual drips from his chopped hair. He'd left only Willem alone out here, and as he registered that the single man has expanded to a large group and flying papers, he stands in the doorway to the head just looking at them for a few long seconds. Right, then. He starts for his bunk, silent.

"Technically, it is part of my bunk as well.." Said without even looking, and it seems Beckett is not even going to bother hanging up his blues, as he pulls on those green fatigue pants and then turns to come sauntering over towards the table. as his case and lighter are retrieved along the way. There's a slight pause though-as Kai utters one word 'Nyx' And that brow of his raises as dark eyes remain on the CAG. Cool gaze? Well lets just say if the AC was broken someone could get refreshed standing in that gaze. All the same eyes flick from him up towards Aggie as that brow has yet to drop. And she confirms knowledge.. Marek..Marek, now why should that name be familiar to him, when it comes to her?

"Or you could decide you don't like people hitting you," Persy suggests to Wil, sensibly. "It works for me." She wriggles out of her off-duty uniform, folding it and stowing it away — then seems to note Nadiv heading for his bunk. Suddenly, she turns over and grabs a tattered pad of paper from the little shelf holding her personal items. Pen, check. *Scribble, scribble, scribble*

Oh HELLZ to the no. As Aggie repeats his surname, and loses her tentative grip on his papers, Kai shuffles and twists until he's properly sitting, instead of sprawling on the couch. This, apparently, isn't the sort of woman he wants to be lying prone in front of. "Spit and elbow grease, I imagine the same as you," he answers drily, blue eyes still riveted on hers. Whatever history they've got, it seems to be dubious at best. After a pause, "Maybe less spit." Burn. "Of all the people crawling out of the woodwork on me, it had to be you, didn't it, Nyx?" He sounds vaguely disgruntled about it, and does a quick check of his combat boots before shoving his feet into them one at a time. This may not be viper berthings, but you never can be too safe. His eyes shift briefly to Beckett at the gunner's attention, then back to his bootlaces. Cool gaze, meet cool cat.

A long silence as Wil realizes he just dropped a stream of verbal diarrhea all over the once-quiet Officer's Quarters. He -did- tempt fate with Roubani earlier noting just how quiet it was, though. He finishes glancing up at Persy with a slight pained expression. That, or maybe he shouldn't have moved his shoulder that way. "It's not like that. Really. I'm not sure I like hitting them, but it's…" his mind flails silently for the words. "It's a morale thing. Enough bull about pilots hiding behind metal." Which is a half-assed way of saying he has something to prove. Even if he's proving he can just stand there and take a punch or twelve. He just stands, leaning back against the bunk ladder with his arms crossed now as he looks back down at the exchange between his CO and the grouping in Beckett's bunk. After giving Roubani a silent, sidelong glance.

Roubani settles on the edge of his bunk, pulling his boots out and pushing his feet into them. The confrontation is given a mild look, and then he glances down so he can lace his boots the rest of the way up. That done, he closes his laptop on his mattress and slides it into its black bag. He doesn't seem too tempted to participate in any of the conversations in the room.

Persy finishes scrawling. Fold fold fold! She looks rather excited and pleased with herself, whatever she's doing. "Whatever makes you happy, sweetie," she tells Wil, leaning WAY out to kiss him on the cheek. Right after, she sends a paper airplane sailing down to Roubani.

Aggie's eyes narrow as Karim rights himself into a seated position. She holds up a hand to her husband, straight armed, a finger raised in one of those 'I'll be with you in a minute' gestures. The small (and angry) woman's features smooth, still, and she replies, "You'd know all about crawling, wouldn't you?" There's a hint of some unspoken, and probably entirely salacious. But she doesn't quiiite go there. Yet.

Beckett looks back towards his locker as if contemplating the steps it would take to go back and grab his gun, however the hand that doesn't have a sure grip on the dull and battered case is slowly curling into a fist, knuckles lightly rapting against top before he is focusing back in on Kai "N'resh ha'vah Soos, Alif g'ral samkeh" comes out perhaps a little bit meaner than intended. Well no it came out just as he meant it. And for those with an ear for Kashmiri one might be able to pick out the simple jist of the sentence, which deals with respect to one's wife, and what a horse might do to Kai-that just isn't proper to repeat. A puff up of the chest, but then to Josef's credit he is from Sagittaron, and his temper is like many males on there. Easy to provoke on certain subjects.

Wil's ears flush briefly red even if he does manage to contain an unbidden smile and lolls his head upwards at the blonde CIC officer. He's watching Kai again and the the happy, domestic saga unfolding between the Becketts. His eyes narrow as he puts together what just happened though and the smile remains, albeit crooked as he catches Roubani's air-mail delivery. Back up to Persy. "Yah. Well.." He begins. Suddenly, he pauses in an awkward manner. "Oh, speaking of. Would you hand me the notebook up there? It's grey." It's also the only one he has right now, the others on lockdown in the closed Viper Berthings.
Amongst the Becketts and Kai. Proper way to put it.

Whoa with the whatnow? Persy's blinks as she tunes in to the gist of Aggie and Kai's conversations. /Crawling/? Did she actually just go there? Wide blue eyes are flashed at Wil, perhaps checking to see if HE knows what the frak's going on. "Uh… yeah. Notebook. Check…"

Now this is awkward. A couple being kissy-pie-goo-goo on one side of you and another being iron-fist-smash-through-wall on the other. With Beckett in there cursing for some reason. Roubani's dark brow arches disapprovingly at the weapons officer's choice of Kashmiri at the CAG, and he glances down as the paper airplane sails onto his leg. He picks it up but doesn't unfold it yet, picking up his heavy fatigues jacket from where it lies folded neatly at the end of the bed.

Kai opens his mouth to respond to that, hands stilling on his bootlaces mid-tug. Then shuts it again. He resumes pulling them through grommets, tying them, and tugging the hem of his fatigue trousers down. If he's going to be rumpled, he may as well do it right. "Put a lid on it, Nyx," he mutters instead, pushing to his feet in order to retrieve the papers that spilled to the floor. Beckett receives a mild look, gaze steady and unfettered. "Negaran, nebakhshid," he answers in that same throaty, almost coarse-sounding Kashmiri. There's no bile in his tone, no anger; he's almost infuriatingly calm as he tucks the errant papers back into his folder.

"Josef Beckett, do I look like I need your bull headed assistance?" Aggie's words are clipped, and she doesn't even turn around to say that to her husband. She sounds a little irritated. Maybe it was the Kashmiri. It was probably the Kashmiri. "Both of you put a lid on it." Definitely was the Kashmiri. "Not a word from you." She points at Kai. And then points at Beckett. "Or you."

Non-verbal communication may actually work, in this case. Especially when what's being implied is completely obvious. Lt. Price gives Persy a slight arc of a coppery eyebrow followed by a slow, miniscule shake of his head. No, he doesn't seem to be registering on any Kashmiri. Just a bit of an uncomfortable pursing of his lips. His eyes may be more on Kai than either the Doctor or Weapons Officer but that is likely a natural outgrowth of where his own departmental loyalties lie. He says, back up to the blonde, softly, "I -think- I left it up there." He seems fairly sure. This is delivered as almost an afterthought, though.

"Uh. Yeah. Here it is…" Persy produces the notebook and hands it down to Wil, distracted and tense now, frowning at the Becketts and Kai. She makes absolutely no pretense of not listening or looking elsewhere.

The journal - Wil's journal actually - that Roubani had fallen asleep reading last night is picked up, still open to the article on ship resistance to radiation. It's closed and slid into his bag with his laptop, then he picks up his band of prayer beads from the foot of the little statue of Apollo on his shelf. It's slid onto his left wrist. The JG is good at pretending his superiors' unseemly behaviour doesn't actually make noise, like a TV on mute.

Kai arches a brow slightly as Aggie addresses him. It's one of those 'do you not know whom you're ordering around?' types of looks. Then again, of course she doesn't know. Maybe someone'll be kind enough to inform her; it certainly won't be him. Silent, he drops back to the couch so he can rifle around in his bag for a towel, soap, and toothbrush.

"I will not let him" But it seems whatever was going to come out of his mouth is halted again by the smaller of the Becketts before he's kissing his teeth. Josef just shakes his head at Kai and is now moving to tap the cigarette case rather loudly, as he moves behind Aggie, before he is pulling one out to deal with his lighter. He'll hold his tongue-for a minute or so. It all depends on what his wife further adds, or Kai does. But, Aggie might catch one phrase muttered out behind her. "Ya Kalb" time to light up after the usual barbs are traded. Oh poor Kai, Roubani might be able to attest to this, but this is usually normal for the Becketts.

Aggie could know, it probably wouldn't make a difference in this instance. She doesn't, however. Which means it'll just chafe that much more when she does find out. The surly little dentist turns to complete the earlier trek to her bunk, which has been mussed by her husband's unceremonious throwing of his uniform into it. OCD activate! "Pencil dick," comes a mutter from inside the bunk. The sea of raging hate seems to have ebbed. Aggie crawls back out of her bunk, reaches up, and shoves every last thing Beckett left in her bedding area into his, which is just above. There's barely a pause before she grabs a pack of smokes from his bunk, and she's off headed for the hatch. She's been a little extra cranky since the eruption of gunfire in Medical the other day.

Suddenly, quite unexpectedly, Wil's head arcs gently to capture the man in the bunk next to the ladder he is leaning against even as his weathered fingers clasp upon the surface of the notebook Persy hands him. He can multitask, after all. "Poet." He mutters softly, still using sometime-pilot's old Callsign. "Remember what I said this morning about being out of Red Squadron's berthings? I think the Gods are telling me something." Yeah. Call someplace 'quiet' and look what happens. He pops his shoulder back and forth stiffly again even as he arranges the notebook under his arm, some loose papers almost spilling out. Almost.

The swearing tossed around just makes Roubani's dark head shake slightly, Josef seeming to get the brunt of the displeased look. His eyes slide towards Willem, a brow ticking upwards. "Well, quickly then," he says, blandly. "Talk about how we've lost the war."

Persy watches the dentist go, bristling visibly. She sucks on the inside of her cheek and glowers, biting her tongue. Fidgeting. Drumming her fingers on her thighs. Breeeeeeathing. Through. Her nose.

There's little reaction from the CAG to the Becketts' huffing and puffing. Like water off a duck's back, baby. Once he's collected his toiletries and climbed back to his feet, he too heads for the hatch. Sure, he could toss out a lecture at the two of them, but this? This seems to be personal. There's military business, and there's Saggie business, evidently.

Against his own better judgement, and quite inappropriately, Wil's face crinkles in a heavily guarded, contained smirk at it all. Whether it's the fact that Roubani made a funny(tm) or just an attempt at levity in the face of the much -smaller- war that just went on, it's impossible to immediately say. He does as asked, though. "We sure have lost the war. Not a shred of hope remains and pretty soon our supplies will dwindle to the point of which that we'll have to be throwing repurposed hunks of Raptor salvage at the enemy." The smirk holds, barely. "There. Hopefully the same God will be listening." A pause. A deadpan, but not irreverent, "So Say We All." He gives a little upwards glance at Persy. She's better at this sort of thing, after all.

Roubani grunts softly at Wil. Well done, Price. He still has Persy's airplane in hand, and he tucks it into his front pocket. It'll get looked at shortly. For now his cigarettes are plucked off his shelf and he moves for the hatch himself with his laptop bag over his shoulder. Work, work, work. And nicotine in there somewhere.

"Go Frak yourself." More loving and endearing terms between the married couple before Josef is indeed lighting up. There's a look up as his things are stowed away onto his bunk before he's chuckling for a moment Before relaxing back down into the chair. Indeed this is more personal than professional. As one can attest curses rarely leave the gunner when on duty-however when he is like this, it usually and almost exclusively deals with Agatha in some form. Oh if Kai only knew how this marriage came about-he might laugh, or he might cry. All the same they seem to fight like any other forced couple on the colony.

Persy blinks at Nadiv and Wil, looking perplexed. "I don't know what you two are on about, but it sounds dangerous. I think I'll just sit up here and do some origami."

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