Summary: The lighter side of life.
Date: PHD126
Related Logs: None

Ahh, the library. Quiet haven of the ship's intellectuals — of which (lucky for said quietude) there are few. This afternoon, there seems to be a lone figure in the reading area, a head of golden curls bent over a ponderous tome. Her chin is propped up on her hand; her nose is wrinkled with apparent displeasure as she flips a page. And where could the crewman who mans the checkout desk be? Conspicuously absent. Which he seems to be more and more often, since he's discovered he can get away with it. Laggard.

When Timon worked here, he would never have permitted himself to be so lax — but now that his library duties are naught but memories, the pilot doesn't quite feel the need to lecture the crewman who's hanging outside the hatch with a pack of cigarettes in hand. "Evening," he offers instead, jerking his head to the handle as if to say, ‘Some help with this?' Because, really, he needs it: tonight's slated to be another long night spent in dissertation mode, judging from the five used legal pads, four half-empty pens, and one thick book the pilot now carries inside.

Crewman Marlboro gamely clamps his smoke between his lips and hauls open the hatch. "Evening, sir," he responds, cheerfully. He takes a glance inside, then adds conspiratorially, "I'll be taking my dinner break early, I think. Won't be back for a while." Wink wink. Nudge nudge. Say no more, say no more.

"You do that, Mister — " But the attendant is already halfway down the corridor when Timon gets to that part of his sentence, and the lieutenant pays the man no more mind. Indeed, Ivory's attention is so focused on shutting the hatch behind him that he doesn't stop to wonder why said crewman feels the need to dash off early, and for an excessively long time. "Nice enough guy," he muses to himself. "Could have at least closed the door, though, too." Which, at length, the pilot manages to do.

Ariadne glances up from her reading at the sound of the hatch. Her smile — well, let's say it's not entirely one of surprise, but certainly of delight. "Mister Marlboro take an early dinner?" she guesses, uncannily.

Timon doesn't have to turn around to recognize that voice, and it's a wonder he doesn't drop everything he's carrying as the pieces of the puzzle start clicking together in his mind. "All of a sudden I feel scandalized," Ivory confesses, chuckling under his breath. Long, lazy strides take him over to the table where the priestess is sitting. "One might even think you planned this."

"Why, Lieutenant, I'm scandalized that you'd even think so," Ariadne's smile blooms more fully as Timon approaches. "After all," she looks demurely back down at the pages of her book. "I'm no Oracle. I couldn't have known you'd be here…" A dimple appears on her cheek. "Of course, one can always hope."

"One can." It's not quite a confession that this is a welcome surprise, but then again, Timon's speech is more elliptical than the orbit of a planet. Gently, ever so gently, he sets down his work; then, into a chair opposite Ariadne he goes, lifting it and placing it down so that he makes as little noise as possible. "How've you been?"

Ariadne smiles at her book, lifting her gaze just a moment to look at Timon. "I've been well." Back to the book. "Exceptionally well, really." She flips a page. "You?"

Books. Lovely books. Roubani has an armful of them as he drifts into the library, stopping briefly at the desk. Stack handed over and his name cleared from any future persection, he fishes a small pad from his pocket and consults it before heading into the stacks. Prowl.

There's silence for several seconds as Timon tries to figure out what he's supposed to say next, which he covers — successfully or not — by grabbing a pair of pens off the top of the stack beside him, followed shortly by a legal pad covered from top to bottom with script. Oh, and he adds a wave to Poet as well, just for kicks. Then: "I've — also been well," he says at length, ears a little pink. Brown eyes narrow as they scrutinize his writing.

Ariadne glances up to follow the wave. Ooh, look! Itsapoet! She smiles a bright, warm smile at the prowling bibliophile, then casts a sidelong glance at Timon, indicating the Raptor pilot with her eyes. She waggles her eyebrows comically, then goes back to demurely reading her book. "That's good to hear," she continues to Ivory, pleasantly.

Roubani gives Timon a little wave in return, with a half-smile. Still walking he waits until the man's turned around to focus back on Ariadne before looking at the priestess over the back of Timon's head. His hand makes a V as he smiles at Ariadne. Oh poor Timon, he has bunny ears. Wiggle.

"Good," is Ivory's response. Whether he's tongue-tied because of the priestess' cheek or because of a wording error he's found at the bottom of his sixth paragraph is up for debate. "That you've been well." Of course, those bunny ears — which he doesn't notice — destroy whatever sense of gravitas he's trying to invoke.

Cue the door opening as another person seems to finding their way to invading the general space of the Library, though for the tall Lieutenant ducking his head in just a little as he steps in, this place is bloody sacred. Almost as much sanctity as the chapel deserves, Hale bestows on this hallowed ground of books, and literary accomplishments..Except for magazine-those are like coming from a three month course at a junior college. Never the less, books and other publications aside, the Viper Jock comes to find his usual lonely sanctuary quite full. More so than the Petty Officer usually behind the main desk-like thing.

Eyes travel to the tables after coming a short distance in- and clearly he is quite tempted to head over, instead there seems to be an awkward turn into the direction of the stacks.

Ariadne wide-eyes at the bunny ears, quickly becoming re-fascinated with her book and turning her giggle into a cough. Ahem. Ahem-hem. Yus. "How is the dissertation coming?" So polite and formal. Please pass the peas?

Gravitas, yes. Roubani's hands both splay out behind Timon's head, making a peacock's feather spread. And then butterfly wings, one sticking out at left temple and right temple, flapping. This done, he turns on a heel and heads off breezily into the stacks, narrowly avoiding crashing into Hale. Brakes! "Sir." The word manages to come out dignified even after all that, in library-quiet volume.

Timon still hasn’t caught on to Roubani's little game of charades, though he does come perilously close to checking his six when he catches a glimpse of Rabbit out of the corner of his vision. But before he can turn to say hello, the Viper jock's already in the stacks. Hrn. Odd. Ivory doesn't comment, instead flipping to page two before resting both elbows on the edge of the table. "Not as quickly as I'd like," he says as he does, "but quicker than I expected. Should be ready to write up the final draft of my lit review in a day or two." Eyes jerk from side to side, skipping down the page with remarkable alacrity. "What do you have over there?"

Thumb, meet teeth. Ariadne bites the tip of that unfortunate digit a moment, dimples deep, shoulders shaking as Roubani continues to sabotage poor Ivory's dignity. Ah, but alas, her pantomime is soon on his way — her eyes and smile follow for a few beats. "Mm? Oh!" The book. Quite, quite. "A very bad translation of Veritas' 'The Exodus of Kobol'. Exceedingly frustrating."

"Oi there, Rou-" comes the Leonisian's words right on you in a library appropriate level. There's a tilt of his head as he keeps his own pad and bit of collected paper up in his crooked arms. There's a slight pause, as he turns to peel eyes the way he came in from. A slight smile passed on to the Lieutenant JG "Jus' checking some books to make sure I have all th' old rules out and right for when we get the league started…How're you?" A brow raised as he looks past Poet for a moment, one hand reaching to skim along the spines of the books. "Bloody love this place.."

Oh. Pyramid. Bugger. "Ah." Roubani's slender brows both loft a little at Hale's explanation. "I should…perhaps brush up, myself." Cough. "But I am alright, thank you. Yourself, sir?"

"I can only imagine." The grimace on Timon's face doesn't look feigned or patronizing. If there's anybody on this ship who'd be physically pained by the prospect of reading a massive and poorly translated book, it's this pilot right here. His gaze follows the priestess' for a brief moment; then, seeing only stacks, it returns to its original task. "So." He's actually struggling to figure out what to talk about next.

Ariadne nods. "Indeed," Ariadne responds. She reaches down into a pocket concealed in her cassock, then offers a small, octagonal piece of candy across the table to Timon. "Raspberry fruit chew?"

Ah yes the ever present thing Hale has since set in motion, and upon doing so, Cylons have managed to dash hopes of a great going league, but soon enough that'll be fixed up, all nice and tight. There's a look back towards Roubani, as arms fold over his chest for a moment. "Oi- you had Sims the other day right?" Asked back for a second as he turns his head back to the door as if straining to hear something., but then all attention is back onto young Master Nadiv

Roubani clears his throat softly. There's an absent glance in the same direction that Hale looks, then his eyes go back to the man. "Captain Marek has been kind enough to spare time for me up there, yes. One day we'll actually turn them on." His pursed lip half-smile has a measure of self-deprecation in it.

"I wondered where the box went." Timon smiles despite himself, taking the proffered candy from her hand before unwrapping it surreptitiously under the table. Into his mouth it goes, rendering slightly garbled his next few words: "That dress came with pockets?" His voice is a low whisper, and for a few moments his focus isn't quite on the page.

Ariadne giggles and shakes her head, leaning across the table to reply conspiratorially, "No. But I had that little purse with me, you remember." She also noms on a contraband candy. "I think you managed to eliminate all traces at the crime scene."

Hale smiles back towards Roubani for a moment, as it seems they are listening or trying to the same thing. However, at the news of not turning them on-there's a hand coming up to rub the bridge of his nose. "Ah." a cough- as a means of an apology. "If y' like. I know Willem an I will be hitting them sometime late-If you can be spared from your boss, y' could always fly with us in a training exercise." In the sims of course "Give you some practice?" The offer is there, as Hale's eyes slide over a few more books, taking a step to Roubani's left, but he is not too far away. hone hand moving to pull aside a book entitled, "Wines of Nothern Country: A Farm girl's romp." before he is setting his pad and pen to the side, as that arm is craning further back apparently searching for something. "How is your boss?" Asked with a raised brow-apparently two some bodies have been quite busy.

"That would be lovely, sir, thank you," Roubani says quietly, with a hint of gratitude in his voice. His eyes tip to the spine of the book Hale pulls out, one brow lofting a little, then when it goes away his attention re-focuses. "Captain Eos? She's fine, sir, as far as I can tell." That's delivered neutrally, if only to avoid any awkwardness. "She keeps very busy, of course."

"Oh," says Timon, blinking twice. "That purse." Which is to say, Ivory has absolutely no idea what the woman is talking about, as evinced by the fact that he takes time out from the conversation to glance back toward the stacks when Rabbit coughs out loud. Think quickly, man. His voice gets softer, if that's possible, to the point at which even somebody sitting nearby would have to strain to hear him. "It looked fine too," he adds, entirely unconvincingly.

"It's alright that you didn't notice the purse," whispers the priestess, mirthfully. She grins at Timon, propping her chin up in her hands. "You noticed the dress."

A nod there as Hale finally comes back with what seems to be a smaller bottle of Ambrosia, that is about half way gone. A look over it as he sits it down on the floor, before placing the book back in place. And down crouches Hale, now seriously looking for a book or two, "I haven't gotten to see her as much as I like-hopefully we like-" a shake of his head "Don't mean to pour on y' lad.." the Leonisian twang plucking along smoothly. "But, yeah- Deff come an join us. I won't go as hard as I usually do, as I'd want you to get back in the hang of things. Sides, I think Willem could stand me not applying hypothetical G's on him."

Roubani nods once to Hale, standing still as the man goes about his hunting. For…booze. Right, then. The issue of Sen is nodded to but otherwise glossed over, Roubani really not being very equipped to offer anything about it. "I appreciate that, sir. Just let me know when you'll be going up and I shall come round if Captain Eos doesn't need me." He gives his watch a subtle glance. "I should go for now, though. I will see you later, then."

"I'm that transparent, huh." Timon's ears flare crimson at the mention of noticing her dress. It's a color that's reminiscent of, say, a five-alarm fire — to indulge in an analogy. A quick snap of his pad and he's on to page three.

Ariadne sits back and flips a page of the Gods-awful Veritas translation. "Not really—it's…" she pauses, then shakes her head, dimpling. "Well. Yes. A little."

Hale looks back towards Roubani, and there's a look down. A chuckle there for a moment. "I don't leave everything in my locker, boyo-seeing how I come into here as much as the gym or berthings, I figured a good hiding spot was in order.." and there's a look to the bottle again "Not for me-" an indication perhaps? All the same he's looking back to the Lieutenant and nodding "Right then, Poet. I look forward to flying with you." giving the snipe his leave should he choose it. "Oh, should you see Ed before I do-tell her Price is next for the book."

Roubani raises an eyebrow that isn't as innocent as it should be, where the book is concerned. Mmhmm. "I will, sir." He glances at the bottle again and his lips twitch. "Enjoy your evening." Goodnaturedly if slightly cheeky, and with a nod to excuse himself he slips out of the stack and heads for the hatch. Oh, and the back of Timon's head gets another flash of bunny ears as he passes by.

"Well, for what it's worth: I'm sure I would have liked it if I had noticed it." Which is Timon's final verdict on the matter of his incompetence. The man taps the side of his skull with the base of his palm a couple of times as if to clear his head, his hand almost colliding with Poet's — but, sadly, it doesn't, and this unparalleled violation of his dignity will remain undiscovered for eternity.

This time, the bunny ears take her off-guard; the giggle beats Ariadne to the punch. "I'm sure you would have," she assures Timon. Lies! "Well, you would have thought it was 'fine'." She reaches across the table and takes up a pen from Ivory's stash.

Bottle snagged up Hale's looking back towards Roubani as he dashes out. Another book having been found, that too is added to his list of things to carry as he starts to weave over and about the stacks in order to have a better view on Ivory and the Priestess-eyes slipping from one then over to the other, as a brow barely raises. There's a grin spared for Ivory if he should catch it-this time, it is the priestess whom someone is behind. And yes, the taller Viper jock is keeping one hand back and slightly out of the way as he tries to beckon Timon over, all of this just short of the usual PSSSST that might accompany it.

"Doesn't 'fine' mean still 'good'? It did when I last checked." Timon isn't quite sure what he's being chastised for, but he's going to defend himself anyway. And though he doesn't glance up from his work, he does see a delicate hand not his own take — no, steal! — a pen from his stack. "You're worse than a magpie," he observes dryly. "At least it doesn't giggle." As his head tilts so he can tap the other side, however, he catches sight of Hale’s attempt at sign language. Then, the man’s excusing himself to see what the Rabbit has to offer, conveniently leaving the rest of his stuff unguarded.

Ariadne tsks. "A scholar such as yourself shouldn't be deaf to the subtleties of language, Lieutenant," Ariadne chides gently, eyes dancing. "Yes. Fine can mean 'good'. But the connotations are somewhat lukewarm." She turns as Timon stands to go, locating Hale and offering a friendly wave.

Knuckles come up to lightly pound fists with Ivory, as if to compliment the boy. Obviously he still doesn't know how the first date or whatever it was went, but that does not stop from a little dappage going on there. "She's a right looker mate-Good job." said softly so as to not overtly embarrass Timon. And then, the Lieutenant is passed something along. A dusty, but well meaning bottle of finest. "For when I dunno. I guess you all get lot more serious-" furtive glance towards Ariadne who recieves a grin and a book held wave. A look back to Timon "Brooooh."

Oh. Yeah. The priestess' mild rebuke sets his earlobes alight, and one can almost see the gears whirring in his head as he tries to come up with a more proper adjective than 'fine'. The thought, though, is interrupted by the sudden offer of a fist. Well. That's an odd way to shake hands. Ivory considers it for a moment before enveloping Hale's fist with his palm, pumping up and down once with a slightly confused smile. As for the bottle, it's slipped rather carefully into a pocket. Then, only then: "I wasn't kidding about that Pyramid league," he says, sotto voce. "Somebody needs to make you look good out there." Self-deprecating humor: Timon haz it.

Ariadne glances back at the men in… man conference. Her smile is a bit abashed — perhaps she's guess that she's a topic, at least partially, of conversation. She does look to be blushing just a tad. The Lieutenants are left to their privacy in short order, however, as the priestess returns her attention to her book, twiddling her purloined pen.

There's a confused look towards Timon, as books, and paper are placed under one arm, so his free hand can take the hand off of his fist. "No-" said softly as Abe then tries to mold Ivory's other hand into a fist-once successful he bangs the two together softly. "Like that.." there, now Stathis knows a proper jock greeting-this will serve him well as a coach. To the other words there's a grin back towards the raptor driver. "Thanks mate-now I better let ya get back to her, so you don' seem more interested in your mates-Also tell'er I am sorry for knocking her teeth in." A nod there as he is looking to disengage, but the words are mouthed clearly to Timon-GET IT BOY!

It, being the Priestess.

"I'll let her know," says Timon wryly, as his fist is most decidedly pounded. On a whim, his knuckles whiten as he responds again — this time, properly. His hand stings a bit after it collides with Hale's like a fly on a windshield, but the man has the grace to grin. "And while 'getting it' may be a tad premature — " Ivory winks instead of finishing the sentence. "Thanks for the tip." And he taps the taller man on the shoulder more than a little awkwardly before ambling back to his dissertation.

Hale chuckles once towards Ivory as fingers dust the top of his head. There's a look to the two 'lovebirds' and a nod given as truly and easily he slips out, like a fart in the wind.

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