Say What
Say What
Summary: Matto comes looking for someone and finds Salazar instead. It's a little rocky at the start.
Date: PHD 113 (09 Aug 2009)
Related Logs: Undressed

CEC Kharon, Deck 1, Officer's Quarters
IC Time: Post Holocaust Day #112
OOC Time: Sun Aug 09 15:33:54 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.

Salazar is stretched out on the ugly green couch under the Kharon logo over on yonder wall. Her boots rest on the floor next to the couch, and she appears to be in off duties, though a small stack of files rests on her belly, and one's open and helf aloft of her head. Reading on the recline.

Matto doesn't belong here, and, unlike the Red Squadron berthings, where he typically simply makes himself at home, he actually hesitates a moment at the hatch to tap on it with an almost timid peek in, waiting to see if some thunderous reply of 'Go Away' might issue forth from therein.

No bellows of 'clear out, fairy' issue from within. Salazar pauses in her reading, glances over, dark eyes scanning the dark haired raptor rider. She shoves a finger into the folder to keep her page, then closes it and drops it to rest against her chest. "Come." If anyone else is perked up or awake, they're hiding behind their curtains.

Matto's eyes move first to a bunk, then, drawn by the call, they rise and rest their eyebeams on Salazar, and he steps the rest of the way in with his usual sort of grin, "Oh. Hey, guy," he calls out by way of greeting. "I don't think we've met properly, have we? You're Spiderman's girlfriend, yah?"

The newest addition to the Officer's Quarters seems right at home, perhaps even possessive of the ugly green couch she's currently perched upon. Just like a marine — storm it and stick a flag in it. Salazar hasn't actually drawn a CMC logo on anything, but she may as well have. Salazar's eyes remain on Matto, and the gaze does not waver. She also doesn't blink. One dark brow arches slightly. "Spiderman's. Girlfriend." She repeats it in a tone that suggests she isn't quite sure she heard that correctly.

Matto is stopped in his tracks by the woman's confusion. "Um—" he begins, "Sorry, I guess I have you confused for someone else," he backs away from his earlier claim, since she obviously (to him, at least) has no idea what he's on about. He shakes off the awkwardness of the moment with a shake of his head and a soft laugh, "Let's try that again. I'm Kissy," he introduces himself.

The S2 lifts the folder she was reviewing, and opens the file to the place her finger marked. She considers the pilot's words, and then flips the folder closed. She sits up, shuffling the files into a stack before she drops them onto the couch beside her. "I realize you stick jockeys are all a little free with your panties, but let me say this once." Salazar glances over again, her eyes fixing on Matto. "What and who gets me off is none of your business. Your CAG clearly isn't interested in participating in the who am I frakking game, if the dressing down you received in the Lounge is any indication. Trust me when I tell you that pursuing familiar conversation with people you have never met is one day going to earn you a boot so far up your ass you'll be tasting polish for a month. As I am currently not wearing my boots, you get a pass." She clasps her hands, and rests them on her knees. "That said, Salazar Nikos. Formerly of Scorpia."

Matto returns the look with that vaguely querying gaze he'd returned the Captain's with the other night. Is this the woman or is it not? In the end he raises his hands in a helpless gesture. "Fair enough. I just think it's nice he has someone, y'know? Whoever that someone may or may not be," he leaves it at that, pleasantly voiced. "It's nice to meet you, Ensign Nikos," he adds, "Can I call you Salazar?" he then asks further, keeping on the cautious side, since she's been tetchy about familiarity already. "Or what do you prefer?" he leaves it up to her, trying his best not to push any more buttons.

Salazar rises, after checking her watch. She steps over to her locker, and pulls it open. It's a quick and simple process of changing out of her off duties and pulling on her blues, which is what she does as Matto speaks. "Generally speaking, I respond to Salazar. As an Agent, it was the only part of my name I retained, and I got used to it when mingling with the civvie criminal element." She pulls on her jacket, and flips her hair out and over her shoulders, then goes about fastening the buttons. She doesn't elaborate further on her relationship status with Marek. "Did you come looking for someone, Kissy?"

"Yeah, Nadiv," Kissy glances over to the bunk he'd already ascertained was empty, "Any notions on that front?" he asks, since she brought it up.

Sal tugs on her trousers, exposing, for a moment, several more tattoos down her legs. If anything can be gleaned from this exchange, other than she doesn't talk personal life with strangers, it's that her pain threshold is either substantian, or she's into abuse. "None." There's no recognition in her tone, which remains a bit standoffish as finishes up changing into blues. "Good hunting." With that, she collects her folders, flips her locker closed, and heads out to parts unknown.

"Thanks, guy," Kisseus replies, and, since she's heading off and he's unlikely to bother her anymore, he settles in to wait a while and see if the aforementioned pops up.

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