Poaching
Poaching
Summary: Kassia flirts with Komnenos while Timon talks shop.
Date: PHD060 (17 June 2009)
Related Logs: None
Players:
Kassia..Timon..Komnenos..

The Hangar deck is quiet this time of day, just a few people milling around placing tools away or doing last minute repairs on the various fighters and Raptors in need of them. One small figure sits on the ramp to Foxbat-3, she has a clipboard on her lap and a mug of coffee at her lips as she carefully plans her next CAP, the small woman's hair as usual is like a bushy cloud of black surrounding her, she's dressed in her off-duty green, tanks and fatigues.

"I went over the techspecs in the lounge this afternoon," comes a familiar voice from another Raptor — Timon's, for those in the know, whose normally measured tones are louder than usual to make up for the fact that he's talking over the occasional clang of equipment and tools. "Looks like they amped up the performance from what I’m used to. Now I'm no mathematician, Thorn, but I would like to find out just how far these Mark Niners will go." Ivory hops out of his Raptor's fuselage, talking animatedly to a person behind him (as yet unseen). "Do me a favor and don't make fun of my math on the off chance that I'm wrong."

"Who, me? Wouldn't dream of it." A second voice emanates from inside the Raptor; its owner follows several seconds later. Anton hops down from the Raptor, following behind his pilot in quick succession. "Anyway, your numbers look fine to me. I'd have let you know if you'd managed to botch the job, trust me."

Kassia leans back to see whom the voices are still not too familiar with most of the Raptor Squadron. "Ivory, Thorn." she says nodding her head at the two, she drink from her cup and glances back down at her clip board. "What aren't we mentioning?" She says with a quick grin, going to cock her head at the pair.

"'My mentally-deficient classmate in primary school could have done better,'" says Timon, his tone hardening as he tries to emulate his ECO's. Needless to say, he fails — though hey, who's keeping score? "Flash," he offers, waving — Let's go, his body language seems to suggest, jerking his other hand toward the young Raptor pilot. "My oh-so-questionable math skills," he adds, for her benefit. "Been going over the blueprints for our communications drones, seeing as the last time I looked at one was — " He pauses. " — sometime during the Bronze Age. And that's a conservative estimate."

"Hey, Flash." Anton jerks his chin at the other pilot in a customarily terse greeting. "My pilot here sells himself a bit short," he adds, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Seems he never had to deal with some of the frakheads back at Delphi who called themselves computer science majors." He turns back to his aforementioned pilot. "But you're right, Ivory, these things are a lot more robust than some of the antique junk they trained us on."

Kassia can't help but flash a smile at the man. "So soon Ivory I would have it known you go back farther then that." The small woman gets to her feet, her left eye closing in a very slow wink at the ECO. "So how are you boys this evening, other then elbow deep in stone age tech." She places down her clipboard and approaches the two. "And must you all, be so obsessed with your computers." She rolls her eyes.

"Careful, Ensign." Ivory's eyebrows rise as he does his best not to smile. "Any more vitriol from you and these ancient bones of mine may just crumble into dust. Anyway, here. See for yourself — lines four through eight at the bottom, if you can even read my handwriting." Stepping around a short-and-squat deckhand scurrying to her post, he makes his way to the wing of Foxbat-3, flight manual in hand. "Leave it to the military-industrial complex to claim higher performance on paper than it can actually follow through on. Though Thorn's right, as much as it pains me to admit it: they are a step up from the jetsam I used way back when. Might come in handy in case you find yourself adrift with nobody but your GIB to talk to." What a fate. If he's deterred by Kassia's contempt for computers, it doesn't show.

"Pilots." Anton sighs theatrically. "No appreciation for the little things. Or us poor little people that enable you to look like hot shit." He harrumphs, and saunters over to Foxbat-3, joining the two pilots as they examine Timon's handiwork. Kassia's criticism of computers strikes a little closer to home with him than it did with Timon but if he's truly bothered by the remark, he doesn't show it. "And that surprises you how, Ivory? I'd think you'd have been around long enough not to be surprised how far the eggheads'… um, heads… are lodged up their collective asses."

Kassia beams up at the older pilot, her dimples showing. "At least you didn't threaten to kick my ass, I'm impressed." She looks at the paper and then back up at him. "I fly I evade and do a little rig, don't ask me to tweek anything cause I aint got a clue. Now if you asked me to tweek a few crazy people." She points at Thorn, perhaps imply he's crazy. "I could certainly do that."

"You count yourself among aforementioned … eggheads?" Timon opens and shuts his mouth, having decided to allow the ECO time to puzzle out the jab for himself. "And no, Ensign. Physical violence doesn't appeal to me, nor would I be any good at it even if I did decide to lay down a proverbial beating. How do you think he's stayed alive for as long as he has?" Ivory, too, points at Thorn, his countenance wavering between a rebuke and a grin.

"I'm not an egghead, dammit, I work for a living. Besides, I'm not patient enough for R+D. How do you think I ended up here?" Anton returns their pointing with a rather rude gesture, but tosses off a self-conscious smile to show it was meant in jest. He'd been around Timon long enough to recognize his good-natured jabs when he hears them, and he has trouble getting angry at someone who dimples as cutely as Kas does. He decides to answer with some ribbing of his own. "Besides, Ivory, you couldn't beat up a schoolboy for his lunch money if you tried." He wags a finger in mock reproach. "And one of these days you're going to be glad it's usually me in that back seat."

Kassia laughs softly, going to wink over at Thorn. "I'd never beat you Thorn, I might be afraid I'd be pricked…When you get tired of this old wind bay and want to fly with a real pilot let me know." Oh she's flirting outrageously. "Hehehe, these ECOs always think their the real heroes." she jokes going to lean against her bird.

"Still here, sir?" comes a fourth and decidedly less friendly voice from behind the trio of Raptor pilots. It's the stubby little deckhand from before, whose grime-stained face is set in her best impression of a snarl. It's Timon she's talking to, as the senior officer among them. "We're about to commence FOD walkdown in exactly two minutes, and right now I'm seeing three foreign objects I know the Chief will want me to remove. Sir."

Timon's demeanor abruptly shifts — he knows better than to argue with the girl who makes sure his bird is flight-worthy, even if it means passing up the opportunity to respond to his subordinates. "On it, PO," he says. "Walk with me, kids, will you?" This is directed at the rest of them and is accompanied by a meaningful look. "Lest we find ourselves out there in the black with a broken ejector and red lights in main buses Alpha through, oh, Pi." If there even are that many on board a Raptor.

"Hell hath no fury like an engineer scorned," Anton agrees, and makes to follow Timon off the flight deck. The paraphrased quote might be a little out of place, but then again Thorn's area of expertise is computers, not dusty literature. "You coming, Flash?"

Kassia nods her head at the other two. "Sure, I'm up for a work sir." She says going to hook her arm through that of the ECO. "You know Thorn, I meant it." She says with a little grin. "Might be healthy to play switch the ECO."

Stathis begins walking at a decent clip, pausing at times to see if his fellow Ghostriders are coming with him. "You trying to poach this piece of self-loading luggage, Ensign, just when I’ve gotten used to him?" There's a hint of ice in his words — frost on a winter's day — as he makes his way to the stairwell leading down to the Kharon's middle deck. "Don't forget — I know where you sleep." But even Timon can't make that threat sound serious. "Anyway, returning to the original topic of conversation, I think it'd be nice to take those bad boys out for a spin. We'll be parked above Periander Four for who knows how long, and this remarkably-perturbed atmosphere would make a great testing ground for sig-amp drills." He doesn't bother saying 'signal amplification': too many syllables, even for him. "Might take the idea to the Captain. What say ye?"

"I'm game," Anton replies. He's walking slowly down the flight deck, but at Timon's glance, he quickens his pace — slightly. "It's something to do, and it'll get my arse off the ship for a bit." He flashes another half smile, and his eye twinkles the way it only does when he's about to give somebody grief. "Unless, of course, you'd feel like staying on the ship and working on getting in shape for the next Fight Night, there, noodle-arms."

Kassia winks over at Ivory. "Would I do that sir?" She asks with an innocent smile then goes to look up at Komnenos. "You'd come willingly wouldn't you Thorn." She then looks back at Ivory. "Oh but good Lieutenant, my bed hasn't been slept on in weeks." She gives a little knowing smile. "You'd have to find me first." she then ohs softly at his suggestion. "If I can grab Jason, we should do that would be very good practice." She, says letting go of Kom's arm as he matches pace with his driver.

"Wow." Timon allows himself a slow whistle, even as he shoots another glance at the slow-as-cold-molasses ECO to hurry things up. "The little ones are begging for more flights. Wait until I tell Black." By now, he's reached the stairwell, and just in time too — it seems the Chief has started the walkdown a bit early, if only to shoo off the few idle pilots still loitering on the flight deck. With a grunt, Ivory opens the door before stepping over the threshold. "And for your cheek, Thorn, you get to draw up the theoretical numbers against which we'll compare our actual results. I expect delta-error of less than one percent, else I'll let Miss Winky here show you some manners for a few days." Is he joking? Hard to say. Timon's always had a great Triad face.

"Careful, you two," Anton says with a smirk, "all this fighting over me might make my ego go critical." He puts a little extra into his step, following his driver across the threshold of the hangar bay. "And I suppose that might be just as well - you've got enough on your plate flying that bucket of bolts without having to do real work." As they exit the hangar, Komnenos reaches into one of his flight suit's myriad pockets for a pack of cigarettes, but waits until he's exited the hangar proper before drawing one out. He's been on the end of one too many blistering tirades from engineers and deck crew to dare even showing a cancer stick on the flight deck. "Besides, Thayer might feel a little put out if I took his seat."

Kassia seems utterly delighted by the threat. "I always did have a thing for the dirty blonds." She says then turns serious. "Though all fairness Ivory might be good we trade for a few days, I sometimes take a turn with Poppy and Jason gets passed around, the pairing aren't really formal." She pauses her lips maybe she's kinda jealous of the other two pilots rappore with their ECOs. She gets on ok with Jason but they never seem to achieve the friendship and closeness the other two have. She then goes hanging her nose over the packet of cigs. "You going to share, Thorn? I'll nab a bottle of brandy from under Tinman's bed, if you wanna wash it down with something" She asks, then just snorts about her Rio.

"Komnenos, you know as well as I do that your ego's already gone way past critical mass. Though hey, false modesty. Not as good as the real thing, but I'll take it." Timon chuckles under his breath as he proceeds down the stairwell, taking careful steps to avoid slipping and making himself appear like an utter klutz. Thorn doesn't need any more confirmation. "Math is good for you, anyway. Makes you less grumpy, and when you're less grumpy, I can do worthless pilot-y things like, I don't know, keeping the both of us alive. Isn't that right, Ensign?" He'll seek refuge from Anton's barbs in his fellow pilot, whose note about ECO assignments aboard Kharon he acknowledges and confirms with a grunt.

"Sure, Kas," Komnenos cuts in, replying to her comment about crew arrangements. "Maybe it'll be good for the old man here to trade off for a flight or two sometime. You see how he takes me for granted." He tosses Kas one of his smokes. "No problem - I never seem to have a problem fleecing that ensign from CIC at the Triad table, so it's not like I'm hurting. Especially when the person I'm sharing with offers me brandy."

Kassia nods her head a little bit at the pairs light banter. "Well ECOs have to have a big ego, it's the only thing they can boast about." she says taking the cig before grunting at the Lieutenant right Ensign. "Sure, sure." She says then hmms. "So you boys wanting to head back to the bunk room and get a little nightcap…?"

"Vanity of vanities," says Timon at Anton's nonchalant mention of his gambling skills, and this time he actually sounds like the stereotypical preacher whose funereal thunder's adopted. "All is vanity." By now he's reached the door to the lower level, pushing it aside with some degree of effort. "Anyway. Much as I'd like to watch both of you get plastered, I've got things to do, affairs to attend — oh, who am I kidding." The lieutenant smiles wanly. "Paperwork, mostly, which I can't do if you're going to be carousing till the sun goes up. I'll leave you to it. Thorn, numbers on my desk — " Ivory pauses. " — bunk — by tomorrow's vampire shift, or it's to the sims four times a week instead of two." And with that, he's off, disappearing into the bowels of the ship.

Komnenos snorts at Ivory's back as the senior pilot makes a hasty withdrawal down the corridor. "Aesthete." He turns back to the expectant young Ensign. "As for me, I accept. Could use a bit of rocket fuel, and besides, the closer the deadline, the better I work. 'Sides, believe it or not, his bark is worse than his bite." In an exaggerated gesture, Anton offers his arm to the ensign with a cheeky smile on his face. "Shall we?"

Kassia slips her arm back into his. "You know I think it's self defence he doesn't want to know what a pussy cat he is really inside." She says with a wink then goes to lead the up the steps. "He's a good pilot though, I could learn alot of watching him, good officer also."

"Yeah, he's solid," Anton replies. "We make a pretty good team, I think, when we’re together, even if he fancies himself a taskmaster." He follows Kassia's lead on the stairs. "Don't tell him I said that, though - he'd never let me live it down." With that, the two continue on towards their engagement with brandy and cigarettes, the normally introverted ECO pleased with the sudden knowledge that he seems to have made a new friend.

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