Laundry Duty
Laundry Duty
Summary: Yet another laundry room meeting of the minds.
Date: PHD 140 (9/6/09)
Related Logs: None

Laundry Room

There's something that one can only put off for so long before it becomes apparent that it can be put off no longer, this being the case with laundry for Kitty who is in the process of getting caught up with the one thing she let go since the mission and the following SAR. She probably would have made excuses to put it off for longer but the realization that she is dangerously close to having to wander the corridors of the Kharon naked made her see that -now- is better than that. A large laundry bag is set before one of the washers which she's now in the process of filling, a small box of soap on the lid of the washer to its left with a mug of something next to it.

In walks another expert at putting laundry off until the last possible moment. Anton Komnenos strides into the laundry room, dragging a bulging bag of smelly, dirty clothes behind him — for which the rest of Black Squadron will likely be grateful. There's a cigarette on his lips, as usual, and a wisp of smoke trailing out behind him. He heaves the bag of laundry up onto a table, as of yet oblivious to any other presence in the room.

It's the smell of the cigarette smoke that gets her attention first but she doesn't greet its source just yet, too busy to do more than finish getting -just one more- load in and started, it perhaps something Thorn might see as anti-social behavior on Kitty's part instead of it being the single-mindedness of someone wanting to get this over with. Clothes in, soap in, lid closed and machine turned on and then it's time for her to speak. "Hey, Thorn. Long time no see." Even as she verbally says hello she's not looking at him, Kitty actually looking -around- him when she says hi.

Anti-social? Maybe, but then Thorn would be an awfully hypocrite to say anything about it, wouldn't he? His head jerks to the side at the sound of a voice. "Oh. Hey, Crybaby," he replies, terse as usual. He begins dumping out wrinkled clothes onto the table, his nose twitching as he begins to haphazardly sort everything.

Kitty wrinkles her nose and then she shakes her head, frowning slightly as she does. "Alright, look. I get that we don't know each other very well but do you need to be so…" Not knowing how to put it, she winds up flapping a hand and blurting out, "….so Thorn-like?" That is punctuated with a self-directed snort and a sigh, that too given to herself, her own behavior currently less than stellar. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap. I am just…I don't know, Thorn. Just…sorry."

Matto comes prowling through the hatch, sleepy eyes narrowed to a half-squint, lips pursed as he looks one way, then the other, something predatory and smooth in his gait distinctly unlike anything typically seen from the Kissybear.

Thorn freezes mid-sort, his head tilting at Kitty's sudden outburst. Then, he does something unexpected — he laughs. After a moment, he turns to face her, cigarette smoke pouring from his nostrils as he exhales. "You know, I once asked Mars almost th' exact same question, not long ago." He shrugs. "Shit's been tense all over lately. Haven't exactly been in th' greatest of moods lately myself. Don't sweat it, eh?"
Thorn's sudden cheer seems a little forced, but his words sound honest enough.

Kitty doesn't notice anyone new having arrived, her back being turned towards the hatch and her attention on Thorn like it is pretty much rendering anything like situational awareness null and void. "Yeah, I kind of gathered that was the case. I wasn't offended, really. It's cool." Her mug is taken and looked at and then she adds quietly, "Don't tell Castor I'm drinking this," as she holds out her mug which is half-full of coffee. That fact that she has coffee most likely won't have any meaning to Komnenos but she feels like she's being dishonest and is trying to fess up in her own way.

Matto casts his half-lidded gaze along the others in his squadron, looking over them with a sleep-addled spot-identify-analyze pattern of thought before his head turns in the other direction, his body following suit as he steps with unusually directed gait toward two of the dryers.
Look out, Raptorbait. Whistling to himself is the figure of Wil, invading the laundry with a sack over his shoulder as he sidles through the hatch, swinging said sack languidly back and forth in a little twirl.

Thorn finally notices Kissy's presence, casting a curious but restrained glance at the pilot but saying nothing. There's a quiet nod to Willem before he looks back at Kitty. "All right, sure," he responds wryly. "Though I'm not sure why coffee should be a secret. But my lips're sealed."

"Because my life's horribly boring compared to that of you and the others and I need to feel like I have something to be all fraking sneaky about." Kitty sticks out her tongue but that coincides with her looking over her shoulder, that cheeky display given to Willem and Kissy by accident. "Oh. Hey guys. I was wondering when you'd show up. Where one of you are," she points to Thorn who arrived first, "The rest are surely going to follow." That's said with a bit of fondness along with poking fun at them.

Matto arrives at his destination, resting one hand on each of two contiguous dryers. He looks over his shoulder at the greeting, back somewhat straighter than his usual casual slouch. He takes the teasing with a stoic sort of countenance, lowering his chin in a silent nod before he opens the pair of dryers in unison with one another, one sure motion of both arms.

"Secret coffee?" Wil notes, lips pursed as his mouth quirks to one side, slinging the laundry bag down his arm and popping the lid of the second washer in open. You know, it's the one that's CURSED. A faint glance at Kitty and Matto. And Thorn, in turn. "Hmmm. Evening."

"Crybaby here seems t' be under the impression that I might run off and tell Castor she's sucking down caffeine," Thorn replies to Wil with a smirk. "Trust me, I don't run into Castor enough for that t' be a problem." That to Kitty. His head cants to the side curiously. "Crybaby. Never did hear th' story behind that callsign."

Kitty rolls her eyes. "Castor called me a crybaby after he misunderstood something I kind of whined about, got the Captain and the CAG in on it, she approved, and everyone but me lived happily ever after. The end." Abbreviate much? She watches Matto and then looks at Wil and shrugs, "It's something I said I'd quit. Said that to Leda, that is. Feel like I'm cheating on a lover but I -had- to have a cup." She sighs and then looks back towards the dryers and calls out, "Hey, Kissy, how are you, huh? Can I help you with something, hun?"

Laundry. Ohai. You can always smell an engineer bringing their clothes down; the pile of clothing usually has one of several scents - sewer, grease, metallic, or FTL (yes, the drives do have a particular stink after a while). Roubani is quiet as he heads into the laundry room, and it's the metallic smell this time that clings. Not to him but to the bag he's hauling along.

"I heard." Wil says, a little incredulously as he smirks right back in Thorn's direction, forehead wrinkling as his head shakes from side to side. "It was a Castor Leda original. What's this about caffeine? Huh?" The questions come in rapid-fire as he starts dumping out the bag of laundry into the washer and dryer. No. No motionweave here. Just boring old fleet-issue stuff." He pauses a beat. "Ajtai? Please never mention the words 'Leda' and 'Lover' within two sentences of each other? You're scaring me here."

All in all, the ribbing on Rebound's part is fairly good natured. His eyes narrow at the pile of clothing a moment, as if some sort of strange creature appeared in the bag. He clears his throat. "Katherine, something else that should put you at ease is that callsign was given to you by someone who was a quivering, sobbing wreck a few weeks ago every time his cellmate in the brig looked at him funny." A few silent moments pass as he spies Matto, with generic curiosity evident in his expression.

Matto lets out a sound not altogether unlike a growl, a triumphant sort of feral noise. Leaning over and down into a dryer, he comes up with the missing sock, still faintly moist, which had been hiding from him in his effort to sort laundry post-wash. Taking up the garment, his face twists into a smile. The smile the lion gives to the hare after it's already too late. You might except an evil-sounding laugh, next, but he turns toward Kitty and the wickedness melts away from his features, reverting to their natural affable state. "I found it, I'm good," he answers, then turns his head to half-hide a yawn against his upper arm.

"I heard." Wil says, a little incredulously as he smirks right back in Thorn's direction, forehead wrinkling as his head shakes from side to side. "It was a Castor Leda original. What's this about caffeine? Huh?" The questions come in rapid-fire as he starts dumping out the bag of laundry into the washer and dryer. No. No motionweave here. Just boring old fleet-issue stuff. He pauses a beat. "Ajtai? Please never mention the words 'Leda' and 'Lover' within two sentences of each other? You're scaring me here."

All in all, the ribbing on Rebound's part is fairly good natured. His eyes narrow at the pile of clothing a moment, as if some sort of strange creature appeared in the bag. He clears his throat. "Katherine, something else that should put you at ease is that callsign was given to you by someone who was a quivering, sobbing wreck a few weeks ago every time his cellmate in the brig looked at him funny." A few silent moments pass as he spies Matto, with generic curiosity evident in his expression.

"Castor Leda, spreading harmony and goodwill wherever he goes." Thorn gives a slight headshake at the story. "It's coffee, for frak's sake. Hells, half of us would probably keel over without it. That, or tea, anyway." His tone indicates the latter is what he prefers. "Who cares if y' have a cup when y' need it?" Anton turns back to his laundry. It doesn't have the same machine stink of Roubani's, perhaps, but it's pretty ripe nonetheless. He snorts a laugh in Willem's direction.

No motionweave here either. Roubani's laundry's pretty dull, all told, if you don't mind the smell. The back of the group's heads gets a mildly curious glance at their conversation, then he turns his attention to getting his laundry into one of the machines. Two, actually, the clothing being properly sorted.

"It's not that I'm drinking coffee so much as I am caving in and partaking in something I was…uh, still am addicted to. Maybe that'll make more sense." And to show how guilty Kitty's feeling, she takes a large ass gulp of the brew. "No worries about that," she asides to Wil, then, "I'm not his type so no Leda-lover shall be uttered from these lips." Another bit of motion has her looking at Roubani and she waves to him and then she nods and gives Matto a large smile, all that while tittering mentally over that whole brig comment. "Yeah, that's what I figured, Thorn. Why I am drinking some now."

Matto blinks yawn-induced tears from his eyes well enough to look across the room again, more people having arrives while he was prowling. "Hey, N, hey, Darling," he greets the both of them mildly enough, going to all the effort of -folding- the sock instead of going ahead and leaving. Either he intends to fall asleep standing up, or his attention has been captured by the conversation or its participants.

Holding in a brief snicker, Wil just shakes his head. At the conversation. "Nadiv." He acknowledges the younger man's presence with a friendly-enough greeting as he tosses a ball of unmentionables into the washer. "Heh." A pause. "Kisseus. Busy night in here." Master of the obvious. There's a glance towards Thorn and Kitty as he simply concludes, "I'll just let that one lie. But whatever. Just say you're drinking hooch instead and I'm sure he'll leave you alone."

"Hnh. There are worse things t' be addicted t'," Thorn muses dryly. His laundry now somewhat sorted, he starts dumping pieces of clothing into a nearby washer. It's followed by a splash of detergent, and then the machine is turned on. He repeats this process with another machine before going back to lean against his table and work the cigarette. "Nadiv," is said softly with a nod.

Kitty looks from face to face, suddenly feeling a bit outnumbered as she's the only female and the newest member of the crew, both things that has her a bit discomforted. "Uhm, yeah. I'll…uh, just tell him that." She wiggles a few fingers then, a near-twitch that she keeps under control once she feels those digits quiver, Kitty trying not to get all spazzy like she did before. "So everyone's here doing laundry. What a coincidence," she concludes lamely, her face neon now.

Wait, what. Roubani squints back at the group and their chatter. "Hey," he replies quietly, to the chorus of his names and the first letter of such that come his way. Jacket, T-shirts, into machine, and even he coughs mildly at the acrid puff of odor coming off them. Burnt solder smell ftw. Kitty's wave is returned with a flickered smile, then he reaches up for the lid of one washer. "What in Hades are you talking about?"

"Something, by all rights silly and probably shouldn't be graced with the gift of word." Wil muses wryly as he tosses the rest of the laundry in, closes the lid and proceeds to add soap in an absent, routine manner, pressing buttons and starting the great, crazy machine up.

Matto lifts his free hand and rubs the side of his nose, then, up to his eye, down to his nose again, then sniffs, eyes remaining open only minimally. "I think I'm talking about going to bed. I'll see you all later?" he asks the lot of them.

Thorn nods quietly to Kissy before looking over to Roubani. "Who knows, sometimes, Poet?" he says with a thin smile. He turns back to his pile of laundry, and begins to sort out the rest.

There's a small bevy of people in the laundry room with the majority here doing wash while one's on his way out. "Sure Kissy. Will try to catch you later," Kitty says, adding a wave as she says goodbye. "As for what's being talked about, Poet, I don't know. I'm probably babbling like a fool but that's probably because I'm in need of someone to talk to and it's kind of all coming out at once."

"Well. I guess you've nailed down that topic, Kisseus. Sleep well when you get there." Wil says, easily enough as he stares at the swirl of clothing through the glass of the machine.

Uh huh. Roubani heard enough, at least that he smirks faintly at Kom and Wil as he sets his washer to start. Matto's exit makes his eyes flicker that way and he comments as he opens the second washer. "Kissy, if you still wanted that folder? It's on my shelf, you can get it if you like. Have a good night." Back to Kitty, raised brow of mild concern. "Are you alright?"

The door to the hatch opens and Martin looks inside. Looking dead-ass tired with dark circles under his eyes, it appears that his headache has gone enough for him to wander the ship. Counting the faces, he stands in the doorway, unsure as whether or not to step inside. Crossing over the raised well of the threshold, he quietly steps towards Thorn.

Matto hms, nodding sleepily, "Mm-kay, yeah, I'll grab it," he tells the Poet, "Thanks," he adds, "Night, Babydoll, Darling, Toes," he turns toward the door, offering Marty a quiet, "Marty," without even seeming to process the danger inherent in the situation.

Thorn tenses as he notices Martin's entry and approach. The laundry in his hands is dropped back to the table as he turns to the hatch. His arms fold across his chest, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Dash," he greets the other man tersely, waiting for the other shoe to drop, as it were.

Kitty hmmms? "Oh…frak." Kitty winces and looks up, casting a quickly thought prayer to whichever of the Lords wants to listen at this moment. Once the 3.2 second long thought's done she looks over to Thorn and then to Martin, her already-pale completion becoming more so. Leaning in close to Anton, she whispers something before drawing back, letting him have his space while she walks over closer to Willem and Roubani. "I'm fine. Just got a lot to think about. Thankfully the majority of it pertains to other people…" She looks at Thorn and Dash pointedly, "…yeah, I'm fine, really."

Gang's all here. Wil tosses a lazy wave, squinting and narrowing his eyes at the retreating form of Matto before coughing slightly. He doesn't seem unfriendly towards Martin in the slightest. "Feeling better?" He even inquires, busting out with a tentative smile. He does, however, peer towards Thorn. Dun dun dun.

"Thorn." Martin says, coming to a stop in front of him. Looking down to his right arm in the sling, he flattens his lips and then slowly raises his head to the man's face. "I owe you an apology. You've always been square with me and you and I both know you're not half the asshole I called you out for being. Truth is…it's an honor. No one put me up to this. It's just the right thing to say." He lifts his left arm slowly, making a fist to pound. "I'm sorry for the cheap shot." Martin says, ignoring the rest of the room for the moment. "Truce?"

"Dash," Roubani doesn't quite 'call' the man's name when he walks in, but he says it loud enough to greet, quite casually. "Good to see you up." There's no problem /yet/ so he doesn't treat it like one. He looks back at Kitty, shutting his second washer and leaning a hip against the edge. "Alright. Did you still want to talk about whatever that was you mentioned in the library?" He asks her quietly. His eyes flicker back towards Martin and Thorn in time to catch Martin apologizing. Not staring, but watching.

Thorn's eyebrow twitches slightly upwards at Martin's words. He studies the other man for a moment, uncrossing his arms in order to bring the cigarette up to his lips. Smoke is exhaled downwards through his nose. "Eh, what th' hells," he mutters to himself finally, and gently pounds the man's fist with his right. "Right, truce." Thorn clears his throat. "Look… for what it's worth… I'm sorry things had t' happen th' way they did. Let's just say we both sorta frakked up and call it even, then, eh?"

At Martin's statement, Wil's shoulders roll back, visibly displaying a bit of released tension. He looks from the younger Lieutenant Black towards Thorn, and flashes a thin, but sincere-looking almost-smile. Then there's a glance towards Poet and Kitty in turn, before he simply returns his attention towards the laundry. Yeah. Laundry.He even checks his bag again just to make sure he got it all.

Kitty takes a deep breath and looks away, trying not to let people see the tears of relief that wet her face. "Well, we could start a discussion here," she manages to say to Roubani once she's able to speak without too much difficulty, "But not sure if this is the proper place or time to get into the nitty-gritties of theology and just what the hell it is that makes you tick. If it isn't it can wait. If there's one thing I am it's patient, you know?" Emotionally in check, now, she looks over to Wil and tries to tap him, leaning over to do so if needed. "What do you think," she whispers while canting her head towards where Dash and Thorn are.

Theology. Oh boy. Roubani at least seems to agree about the not starting that discussion here, giving Kitty a small but understanding nod. "Alright." One more glance at Martin and Thorn but that seems to be going a-okay. So he loosely folds his arms, looking back at Kitty and Wil.

"Pain in the ass enough fighting one war, right?" Martin smirks, lowering his left hand back down to rest on one of his beltloops. "Frakkin' sensitive creatures we all are and not one of us is exempt. Shit breaks, people frak up, but it's such little petty bullshit in the eyes of the big picture." Sleepy wisdom from the Dashman. "Now I'm gonna turn around to go lean against a washer. If you cold cock me, the deal's off." He grins, slugging Thorn in the shoulder with his left hand before turning and getting into his spot. "Show's over. How the frak are we all doin tonight?"

"Shouldn't I be the one t' worry about getting cold cocked, Dash?" There's no rancor in Thorn's words, though, as his crooked little smile indicates. He relaxes again, obviously willing to let things lie if Dash is. He claps Martin lightly on the left shoulder as the younger man moves to his washer. "No worries, then."

Hmm. Fishing through the laundry bag, Wil winces as he apparently missed a few things at the bottom. One of his outer tanks. A sock. A fleet-issue sports bra, held out briefly with the requisite reddening of his cheeks and his ears. Rebound's a classy guy. "Think?" He mutters softly with a sidelong glance towards Thorn and Martin again, and Roubani too for some reason. "I think it accentuates my girlish figure." He clears his throat and then coughs to boot as he interrupts the wash cycle to stick the stragglers into the washer. "Oh, that. I don't." The ginger-haired Viper pilot continues, shrugging ever-so-slightly. "It's none of my business. But I am content when there's peace."

Kitty pauses and then rolls her eyes, looking oh-so-disappointed at Wil. "You could have come up with something better than that," is groused in regards to his bra joke. Thankfully he had commented further, putting Kitty in a bit of a better mood. "It isn't our business no but at the same time it kind of is, if you think about it." Sidewards glance to Roubani and she clips onto the end, "It's a relatively small ship and a pretty small crew as a result, you know? And we're kind of like family so if something happens to someone it kind of happens to us all…doesn't it?" She looks over to the peace-makers. "Was hoping to see some kiss-and-make-up time," she quips, sounding scarily like she meant it.

Roubani raises an eyebrow as Wil pulls out a bra. No comment. He blushes faintly in the ears and clears his throat, looking back to the other side of the room, "Oh, Dash," he says in his soft voice. "You won't suppose what I found in storage. A small - small, mind you - but sufficient store of dry ice. Speaking of the next boxing night."

"He ain't that pretty." Martin grins, coming to a stop at one of the washers. Leaning against it, he gives Kitty, Roubani, and Wil an upwards nod. Then, it's as if a lightbulb suddenly goes off over his head. His mouth slightly goes agape in a stare towards Poet. "…smoke machine…" He says, eyes widening. "If you can keep that and store it, this is gonna be the best thing ever." He beams, nudging Kitty. "Just you wait. Pro wrestling on fight night is gonna be even better this time…"

"Probably." Wil says in a dry tone after he sends the washer spinning again, seeming abashed anyway, but even more so at Kitty's comedy critique and Rou's reaction(Because he just HAD TO LOOK in Poet's direction, yo). Ahem. A little more red in the face. Narrowing his eyes, he just lets out a sigh. "Yeah. Well. It was the best I could come up with on short notice." There's a bit of a cough though as he pressed the issue. "Well, it's actually not my business because I made it not. As I said, I'm content." He restates. The shift in dialogue about the wrestling issue seems to be a welcome diversion though as he actually grins, looking back towards Martin. "I think we can cobble together a cape. You look good in purple, Dash?"

Thorn looks over at the peanut gallery, sighing in mock exasperation. There's a snort of laughter in Martin's direction, and Thorn goes back to sorting his laundry, placing the cigarette firmly between his lips and puffing away as he works. "Pro wrestling? Cape? What th' hells you have planned, anyway?"
"It will keep," Roubani assures Martin, with a nod of all seriousness. He rubs his fingers gently against one of the dark circles under his eyes. "It's got your name on it. I'll find a good way to make it billow nicely, and we'll see what we can do about some dramatic lighting." There's a faint chuckle under his breath at Wil's mention of capes.

Kitty looks at Wil and nods, understanding. "Gotcha." She looks away while nudged by Dash, no look of comprehension to be found at first until the other bits of commentary are pieced together with it and she groans. "I think I'll hide in my bunk," she says to herself.

"Just the lighter side of the Dance. Y'know. Instead of watching Marines act out their fantasies at beating the shit out of lightweights like me." Wil says towards Kitty, with a joking ease. He winks afterwards. "I think he needs a new stage name, though. Maybe even a tag team partner."

Turning back to look at the washer, Martin scowls as he suddenly realizes that he can't put himself to sit on top of it due to not wanting to move his right arm much. Frowning, he turns back to the group and finds a more relaxed, positive look to put on his face. "A long time ago I decided to mistreat the honor of fightnight with a pro-wrestling display with intro music and everything. Matto and I tore it up, it was the most fun I've had in years. So please, don't spill the beans about it happening again. The next time we're going to turn it into the most jaw dropping ass-hattery ever." Martin says to the group. "Purple? Sure what the hell. Gods I can't remember if I used a stage name…"

A -snerk- is followed by a -cough- or two, that then rounded out by the loudest bout of laughter that Kitty has ever let loose with, a bout of hysterical giggles and guffaws that eventually has tears running down her face. "M-my Kissy? He….you…" It's the absurdity to that all that has her like this, in pain from ribs down to gut and her face bright red, this all being something she won't recover from for quite a while.

Thorn nods at the explanation, chuckling in mild amusement. "Wrestling… huh." His lips curl in a slight smirk. "Should be interesting, t' say the least." With the rest of his laundry now sorted out, he fills two more washers next to his original two and hops up to have a seat on the last of the four, plugging away at what's left of his smoke.

Roubani is about to, perhaps, make a comment on the proceedings that he might regret later, but thankfully Kitty busts up laughing. He presses the back of his hand against his mouth, hiding the lips that are trying desperately to purse against a smile. Softly clearing his throat he says, "Well. If you do come up with stage names, we can see what to do about adding a few appropriate props, if you like. I mean, you may have to settle for names like 'The Titanium Bulkhead' and 'Crate Man', but I'm sure we can pull something."

"I forgot who lost. Maybe it was the rest of us." Wil's statement is sardonic and without a touch of sincerity. He was definitely, positively entertained, and it shows even in his recollection of it. "Captain Marek seemed to almost laugh. Almost. Or was I imagining it?" A glance towards Roubani and he suddenly cracks up, sputtering a quiet series of laughs at the mention of said nicknames.

"Empty Tuna Casserole Tray Avenger…" Martin grins, letting the positive energy of the conversation wash over him like a nice, warm bath. "That one I won, so this next one maybe it's Matto's turn. I dunno, it's in the larva stage, but that's exactly why we did it. Things were tense back then. Hooking my music player to the speakers and flashing the lights for the intro. It was frakkin' stupidly absurd and threw everyone off guard. We were doin' bodyslams and dropkicks, it was unbelievably fun…"

Kitty had -almost- recovered but then Wil starts in ad Roubani chimes in with the names, it all being really too much and she's back to the belly laughing that she had sort of under control. And now Dash is talking and she has to hurry and cover her ears. "LALALALALALALA!" She resorts to reducing herself to a three year-old, behaviorally, but at least she has retained enough tact to keep from shoving her fingers in her ears while screaming 'I CAN'T HEAR YOU' at the top of her lungs repeatedly.

Not long after he sat on the washer, Thorn is sliding down again. "I've got t' check on something," he calls out to the rest of the group. "I'll be back later t' put my shit in the dryers. Don't let Crybaby steal my skivvies, eh?" he says with a slight grin. With that, he's tossing the remains of his cigarette onto the floor and walking for the hatch.

Roubani flashes Wil a faint grin and then outright sputters laughter at Martin's 'name suggestion'. "I like that." He coughs and blinks at poor Kitty, smirking faintly at the woman, then lifts his chin slightly towards Thorn in farewell.

"If it happened, it wasn't me. I will guard your honor, Thorn. For a price." Wil says, with a certain degree of affected weight. "Maybe." As he regains his composure, he affects a more respectable half-grin. "I like that name too." He says. "Except it's too unwieldy. Need to cut it down."

"For my finisher I could pull a Mess Hall tray from under the ring…" Martin grins, reaching out to Kitty in an attempt to get her ears freed. Nearly laughing himself, he makes a mock angry face at Kitty, finally releasing a laugh himself. "Later Thorn, you take care of yourself." He calls out, moving to lean back against the washer with a sigh. Finding a chair, he pulls it over and lowers himself onto it. "Damn, now I can't wait…"

Thorn barks a laugh over at Willem, shaking his head as he nears the threshold of the room. "Take it easy, Dash… everyone." Offering a wave to the group, he finally steps out through the hatch and heads off down the corridor.
Kitty would say goodbye to Thorn but she doesn't hear his saying he has to go. All she can hear is the same 'LALALALA' she has been shouting. This is, of course, done to preserve her sanity.

Rosebud? Roubani casts Thorn's back a bit of a look, then chuckles a little under his breath at Martin. "I think the whole motif could work, Dash. Labels from the tuna cans, trays, a mess hall Ladle of Doom. This could be cash." It comes out dramatically indeed, though it's followed by a check of his watch. "Ah. I apologize everyone, but I should run and check on something myself."

"As long as you have a consistent, logical paradigm to operate in." Willem notes towards Martin in total seriousness. No comment on 'Rosebud.' There's another pause as he addresses Poet. "Huh. I'll guard your clothes too for a lower price than Thorn's. Actually, in your case, guard duty is free. Be safe."

Kitty finally stops, perhaps getting a sense that the insanity has stopped, or at least slowed enough to be bearable. "Hmm. Oh, well, hope we can talk soon, Poet. Give me enough of a heads up and I'll see if I can find us some tea to enjoy while we talk." There's a smile.

Lighting a cigarette, Martin nods softly as he waves to Poet. It's a quiet goodnight made silent by the cigarette between his lips. Taking a drag, he gets as comfortable as he can with his poor back being so sensitive lately. "Yeah, I don't wanna get hauled to the brig again for accidentally beaning Matto's noggin with a mess tray, do I?"

Roubani raises an index finger at Wil, opening his mouth to comment on the lower price thing. The change to free earns a slightly cheeky half-smile and he reminds Wil with some meaning, "Pink." That might have been a mild wink at the Lieutenant. He nods to Kitty, a bit more seriously. "Tea would be just lovely." And to Martin: "I'll make you some trays out of foam and rubber, hm?" And with that he's heading for yon hatch.

"Red." Willem comments, smoothly towards Roubani with a mere narrowing of his eyes. "Red." His lips twitch with another not-quite-smile. Brushing at some invisible lint on his fatigue pants, he gives another languid wave and then turns to study Martin and Kitty idly. "One of you needs a crooked manager, Dash." See? He knows pop culture!

Martin grins over his cigarette, taking another slow pull from it. A smug, satisfied look crosses over his face as he finally gives Poet an audible goodbye. "We'll do lunch with a notepad, the three of us, start writing this out. You sleep tight, buddy." Martin begs, bringing his hand to his chin. "Crooked manager…that's a really, really good idea. The more 'I can't believe they incorporated this' the better. Maybe one of you could be innocently eating some food and we could act like we completely stole it, using the food as a weapon."

"That's how these things organically grow." Wil says, a bit more animated than he was the last time Martin saw him. Or Kitty for that matter. While he's not leaping for joy, he is indeed generally positive here. "I'll just distract the Sergeant who always seems to be running that damn thing."

Kitty shakes her head. "You know, this is breaking my brains and I have yet to get my caffeine levels back up to where this kind of stuff is going to make sense." Unfortunately for her the coffee she came here with has long grown cold, making the horrible brewed drink down right undrinkable.

"Oh…yeah…Nikos. That might be a bit of a pain in the ass there. I mean, no guts no glory, but it would be a shame if someone broke it up let alone him." Martin replies to Wil, and then turns to look up at Kitty. "Sorry, when I'm groggy I tend to rapid fire and spout this stuff. You goin' to bed?"

"Just go with it. Embrace the absurd." Wil says, easily with a sidelong glance towards Kitty. A bit of the comic front drops here as he says, a bit more soberly, "It's one of those little moments in this life where we can just drop our burdens. Maybe not a lot, but, I'm beginning to understand these things. They come in little moments, Katherine." There's a bit of a pause as he stares at his wash cycle. A watched pot never boils, Price.

Rebound then turns back towards Dash, "I don't think Nikos would appreciate a steel chair over the head though. Bread's probably a better idea."

Kitty looks at her washer which just beeped, eying it blearily. "If I put my stuff in the dryer will you bring it to my bunk when it's done, please? I'll…" She licks her lower lip as she tries to think of a suitable payment before muttering, "I'll be the hot girl who hangs out by the ring while you and Kissy do your…wrestling." While she says that she rubs an eye, obviously losing the fight to stay awake. "You're right, Wil. I guess I forgot that. Maybe I'm getting a stick up my ass like some of our comrades seem to have at times, hmmm?"

"Sure thing." Martin replies to Kitty, giving her a wink. He points a finger to her. "I'm gonna hold you to that though." He adds with a wicked look on his face. Seeing her rub her eyes causes Martin to stifle a yawn. "I figure I've got just enough energy to wait for it myself. I'm fading fast."

For some reason, Wil looks between the other two and just smirks, wordlessly as he pulls his clothing out of the washer now in a messy pile and proceeds to stuff it into the dryer directly opposite, turning on the appropriate cycle lazily. He comments, finally on the statement Kitty made prior. "I have a stick up my ass about some things. It's gradually being removed though as — things happen. You can imagine what it's like."

"Is it as painful as it sounds," Kitty asks in mid-yawn while she schleps her stuff out of the washer and into the dryer, that taking a few trips as she overloaded the first machine in effort to get the laundry done as soon as possible. Now done, she gives Wil a hug and the gives Marty a big squeeze too. "Okay, you can hold me to that, Dash. Anyhow, I should get some sleep. Feel free to pile the clothes on top of me…"

"Yeah don't exclude me too much from that." Martin replies, leaning into the squeeze from Kitty. Maneuvering the cigarette out of her way, he then leans back against the chair and sticks his legs out to recline. "I won't be long, but I'll dump them near your feet so you don't kick any of them out, alright?"

"Nah. It's not. That's the thing." Wil says, quizzically. He seems a bit surprised, but takes it all in stride as he gives the woman a slight wave. "It's not painful at all. Not that, itself. Sleep well." He returns to stare at the dryer, stealing a glance at Kitty and Martin once over his shoulder.

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