Stills

Stills

Summary:	Plots and plans begin to form to get a still together.
Date:	PHD060 (17 June 2009)
Related Logs:	None

Players:

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In the Enlisted area, Randy can be found idly shuffling/toying with a deck of cards as she occasionally reaches for a cheese doodle from the bag that's open on the table beside the magazine about fighting she has open on her table. She's relaxed as can be, for now, making a bridge with the cards and then letting it collapse with a small shake of her head.

Castor steps into the room, a bottle of some sort of hooch in hand, wait, could that be, Virgon Brandy, why in point of fact it is. A cigar that has been cut and saved for later is not burning in Leda's mouth and he spots the Lance Corporal, "Looking for a game?" He asks as he takes a seat at the table, there is no smell of alcohol on his breath, though the bottle has been drunken from previously.

Randy does a double take before quickly getting to her feet to salute, idly scratching the back of her hand before giving a shrug of her shoulder and settling back down at the table. Husky blues flick to the bottle then to the cigar that is not burning and then to the pilot before going back to her cards and magazine with a grunt. "Hello sir." She greets in that gender neutral voice of hers.

Castor says, "At ease Lance Corporal Cedris, we are off duty." He then says, "Just call me Castor right now…or Leda if you prefer to be formal." He smiles, "Fancy a drink?" He says from the table. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his lighter as he takes a long drag from it to make sure the thing is well lit. After he gets a good cherry on the cigar he blows a smoke ring mostly for fun than for anything else. "And what, Lance Corporal should I call you?" His tones are friendly and informal.

Randy blinks and arches an eyebrow. "Of course sir." She fans out the cards and shuffles them idly before coughing and shaking her head. "No sir, my father always told me to be care of swilling anything you didn't brew yourself or know who done it." Her accent starts to slip into her words before she clears her throat and shrugs a shoulder. "Randy, Rags, Cedris…up to you, I don't really have a preference or nothing."

Leda looks on the table and finds a glass to into which he pours his brandy, "Your father was a smart man, however, unless the deck gang or engineering has something spun up hooch will eventually run out." He then takes a small sip, "As for me, I come from Aquaria where sailors are powered by soju and rum." He then takes a moment to acctually study the way Randy is shuffling as if to double check that she isn't using any strange shuffles, he then says, "And how did you get the nickname Rags?" If he was bothered by the accent he doesn't show it.

"I know how to make my own, I'll survive." Randy offers as she flips her magazine closed and fans out the cards against the table, flipping them over with a flick of a finger. "I'm from Libris." She offers before tilting her head to the side. "My first name is Randy and my middle name is Agdistis." She finally replies with a shrug. "So, Rags. It kinda stuck, easier and less insulting than 'it' or 'the other one' doncha think?"

Castor takes a puff from his cigar, "Well, I was thinking it would come from something slightly more embarassing." he then says, 'Libris, huh, never been there though I know some people who hail from those parts." He takes another small sip of the brandy, "Wait, you know how to make hooch?" This has certainly grabbed his attention, "By all means tell me more. What kind of hooch are we talking about?"

"My family lived up in the mountains, sir, not many of us make it out this far. But nah, the only thing embarrassing was when it became fitting after having to turn most of my shirts into rags to cover bloody noses and the like when I was in school." Randy admits as she pauses in where she's building little houses of cards. "Yes sir, I do. If something can be fermented, it can be made into moonshine."

Randy just chuckles softly and arches an eyebrow. "I didn't know being called a girl wasn't an insult cuz my father didn't tell me I was one until I was like 8 you know, lots of fights can start over stuff like that in school. But as long as I won, my pa didn't care." She looks vaguely amused, which is like most of her other faces the whole blank thing. A shrug. "We'd need something to ferment and I'd figure out something to ferment it in. Look me up when you're interested, I'm sure we could work something out."

Castor takes a moment to look over at Randy, "Ah, a regular tomboy then." He then takes a long drag from his cigar as he thenks, "I never had a sister, though if I did, I wonder how she would have turned out." He shakes his head, "Well, anyway, going back to the hooch, I'm thinking if you wanted to work something out we could, you got a price in mind?"

Randy is quiet for a few moments, just eyeing Castor thoughtfully before offering softly. "I reeeally hate that word." A wry twist of lips she turns her head more than happy to have the subject go back to hooch. "As long as I get to take some of it with me for my own stash, I'm happy sir. Not much worth much around here that's worth anything to me."

Randy nods slowly. "I don't mind the whole price thing, it makes sense. There just isn't anything around here really." She nibbles on a cheese doodle before giving the man a chin-up. "Partnership could work." Then she has to cough and scratch her head. "I got into most of my fights /to/ protect my brother ya know? I just uh, well. You know."

Castor raises an eyebrow, "Tell me more about your brother if you don't mind." Leda can't seem to let go of his dead brother and just earlier on he was thinking about his brother. "And yeah a partnership could work, everything on the level. Everything up and up."

"Rupes? Uh…" Randy reaches into a breast pocket to pull out one of those locket like picture frame things, setting it down on the table, and snapping it open to show the picture of two boys? Or maybe really butch girls, short brown hair, big blue eyes, dressed in little fatigues and pretty much can't tell the difference between them. At all. "He was um, really smart sir. Or he is still smart probably. Really really smart and good with the ladies, even if he is deaf. Off studying something somewhere." She keeps hope alive. "I went to the military, he went to a university so hoping to catch up with him eventually."

Leda studies the locket for a moment before he hands it back. "Handsome enough pair." He says softly as he offers the locket back, "My own brother died years back, landing accident at the Athena flight academy." It takes him a moment to get the words out, "Pollux was amazing, a gifted pilot and one hell of a good man." He takes a puff of his cigar and another sip from his glass before he offers, "And I used to beat the tar out of anyone who said anything to him."

Randy chuckles and snaps the locket closed, tucking it away quickly. "He got all the looks in the family." She jokes? It is hard to tell with her as she listens and ahhs softly. "I'm sorry." She offers, twitching a bit at the idea of losing her twin. "I can get the whole beating the tar out of people for bad mouthing thing, I know I sure as hades did." She devours another cheese doodle with a hint of a sigh. "My uh, pa raised us like two little Marines, he was an ex-marine himself and had no idea how to raise children. Rupes always talked about marrying a child psychologist and bringing her home to talk to dad so he didn't mess up his grandkids too."

Castor takes another long drag, "I miss Castor, you know, we were twins and all. Identical even." He then frowns as the idea of losing Pollux comes to him. However, he changes the subject, "So, your father was all hard core corp, huh?" He takes a moment to consider this before he says, "Well, it seems like he did a fair enough job, you are hear to beat people down and keep the law. There is nothing wrong with that." His voice takes on honest tones as he takes another small sip from his glass, "So your brother got the looks and was setting after a child psychologist?" He takes a moment to grin, "Well then…good for him."

[Intercom] Sheridan says, "Pass the Word! Lieutenant Marius Cygnus to the Ward Room. El Tee Cygnus report to the Ward Room."

Randy opens her mouth and shuts it before opening it again. "Kinda feel like missing a half. Part of yourself." She mutters before mmhming softly. "Yes, he is. He didn't really know what else to do, ya know? But he's cool." She scratches her head. "Yeeeah, he pissed off pa you know, all the Cedris men are or were or will be Marines."

Castor takes another drag from his cigar, "Well, it is what sons do, they need to prove themselves seperate from their fathers." He then takes a moment to add, "All children are like that, they wish to be greater than their parents, and so each generation grows greater and greater." He then takes a moment to pause as he thinks about Pollux being gone, "And yeah, it is like I am missing part of myself. Pollux looked after me when things were bad. He was the one who got everything right and I was the one who got it wrong." He takes a long pull from his cigar this time as he re-lives some of his past.

"And that is why I stay outta trouble, I mean hell. What's the purpose of having twins if they can't split the load of the family legacy? He'll get the grandkids, I'll get the war medals, we'll meet back up with the old man and give him both." Randy waves a hand vaguely before going back to shuffling her cards, eyeing Castor a bit knowingly as he talks about his brother and she nods slowly. "Well I'm pretty sure he didn't cook, sew and accessorize better than you therefore making you look like an ignorant roughneck." She chuckles and fans the cards and does some more little tricks with them, staring off at nothing at nothing in particular.

Castor takes a moment to say, "Well, then we are were we are and there isn't much either of us can do about it." He then says, "Though I hope you brother turns up." He then watches the woman as she works the cards over and over, "You know how to run that deck there. Are you a big player?" He asks casually, the movements indicate that in fact Randy has a lot of skill of at least with the cards.

Randy offers another wry twist of her lips and a one shouldered shrug before looking to the cards, splitting the deck, holding a half in each hand. "I'm not like a professional card shark or anything but I used to play a lot, now I just play with myself." A long pause. "That really uh, didn't come out right. But with the cards um. I play a bit, sometimes, when the mood hits me."

Leda lets off a laugh, "Hey relax, I understood you." He then takes another drag from his cigar, "I suck at triad myself and I am not a professional by any means." He then says, "However, I am pretty good at reading other players and figuring out when to fold out." He then takes a moment say, "You know any tricks, card tricks I mean?"

Randy snorts and quirks an eyebrow. "Tricks? Card tricks? Nah, not really. I can make a mean castle out of cards though, but no tricks. I can also cut somebody with a card, but that's not a trick." She pauses with her card toying as she blinks. "Reading people is pretty good. I mean a good thing to have. You're like a pilot, right?"

Leda says well, "I know a lot of card tricks, I learned a few magic tricks back when I was on the streets. It helped me earn some money by busking." He then says proudly, "I am on JiG that goes by the name of Castor Leda with the callsign Tinman. Yup, I'm one of those Viper jocks." He chuckles, "Why do you ask?"

Randy sits at a table with Castor, idly shuffling and doing idle tricks with the deck of cards in her hands. A bag of cheese doodles on the table resting currently on top of a fighting magazine and she eyes the man for a few moments. "Just curious. You can learn a lot about somebody based on what they do. Also, I've handcuffed quite a few of 'em so, ya know." She offers the deck to the man with a quirk of an eyebrow.

Nine shuffles into the lounge, looking very much not her normal self. Which is to say, almost human. Her hair has been unbound from its usual mathematically precise squared sections and rounded braids in perfect propotions, though its crimped length still shows the marks of the long inprisonment. She's in off-duties, sans shoes, and with a sort of loose black apron cocked to one side and tied off around her waist, a flexible black fabric flapping against one leg, bearing a collection of colored pencils in individual pockets in front, and thin markers in back. She has her drafting notebook under her arm.

Castor looks over at Randy, curious to see what she would say about him, "Ah, and so what kind of person would you say I am because I am a pilot?" He asks teasingly as he hears a noise and so his head turns to eyeball who walked into the lounge, "Nine." He says softly to the woman as he studies her, "Starting an art project?" He asks softly.

Randy scratches the side of her nose and sets the cards down finally before shrugging. "Who knows. Hopefully you'll stay out of the brig." But then she's distracted rather quickly by the entrance of Nine and she stares at the woman rather intently for a long time, head cocking to the side curiously before looking back to Castor then down to her cheese doodles.

"I thought I might tempt the Muse," Nine replies with a quiet, shy smile toward Castor, taking a couple of trepidatious steps toward there the two are settled, timid-looking, like a raccoon coming to drink milk left out for it on your front porch— if you try to come too close, it might bolt. "But there's no binding her, you know? so I couldn't say, one way or the other." "Hi," she adds, after a little bit of a pause. "Do you… do you guys mind if I… um…?" she begins to ask hesitantly.

Castor chuckles softly, "Let us hope then that I don't end up in the brig." He then says, "Nine, fancy a drink?" His voice is soft as he speaks to the woman, "It's brandy from Picon, just a sip." He knows Nine is religious and while he could care less about the lords he does want to help anyone who wants a drink even if it is just a sip. He looks at Randy, "Do you know Petty Officer Sjetyrnnine, also known as Nine?" He then takes a moment to look back at Nine, "By all means, take a seat and join us." He always is welcoming towards the woman.

Randy just watches Nine carefully before getting to her feet and pulling out a chair for Nine with a slight if not sheepish bob of her head. "Um, I've seen her around sir." That's all she's got really to say, clearing her throat and stepping back to settle back down in her own seat. "Yeah, have a seat um, just talking and stuff." She nods and carefully eats a cheesy doodle.

Nine slides one knee over into a chair, then the other one, ankles perched on the edge to keep her pouch in easy reach. She sets her drafting book against the other arm of the chair and her smile eventually grows a little less hesitant, "I never can refuse my Lord to taste of His holy blood," she answers Castor back, then turns her head to regard Randy quietly. "Yes. You fought in the gym. And let me watch you. Thank you."

"Relax Randy, Nine, is alright." He says as he then takes a puff of his cigar and blows another smoke ring. He then adds, "How good are you Randy? If you ever feel like sparring let me know." He then adds, "And unlike our other pilots sparring with marines I won't haul off and go crazy." He then looks over at Nine, "Well, take as much as you need, Nine." He then looks at the folder, "So where do you think the muse might take you today?" He has never seen Nine's notebook before.

Randy's eyebrows raise a fraction as she bridges the cards and looks between nine and Castor thoughtfully before offering. "Yeah, she's alright." She finally murmurs softly before frowning a bit and staring at Nine and then Brandy and then back to Nine and she ahhs softly. "Dionysus." And nods slowly to herself, eyeing her cards. "How good am I? I'm alright, I can hold my own and all."

Nine pours herself a little bit of the brandy. More than a sip. Less than overindulgence. Just one touch of Dionysus, in a glass. She holds the glass in both of her hands and smells the liquid before taking a quiet sip. "I'm not sure. Maybe a… bird?" She looks back to Randy and gives a quiet smile, "I thought that you were pretty brill. But. I'm not a fighter, I— wouldn't know for sure."

Castor takes a moment to think about this as he remembers spiders, "A bird, huh?" That would be a bigger thing all together, "Like a flying bird or a walking bird?" He asks for clarification. He then looks back to Randy, "Everyone says they can hold their own." He then takes a sip of his brandy before he says, "And you are a marine and lets be honest marines were born to beat people down just like I was born to fly."

"Heh…thanks." Is mumbled. Randy isn't /shy/ but she does manage to look sheepish, looking down at the comment about her fighting capacity and she fidgets with her cards. "Fighting's fun, a way to blow off steam. Fighting, brewing, sleeping, working out and working…are my hobbies so I guess, Iunno. I was born to be a marine and most marines can fight but I learned from a young age how to come up on top."

"Like a… bird that flies… in outer space," Nine answers, gears beginning to turn inside her head. But she continues to sip at the beverage, on her knees sideways in the chair as if she were receiving the God in chapel. Her eyebrows rise and she looks wide-eyed toward Randy, "You know how to brew alcohol?" she asks, a little wonder in her voice.

Castor looks over at Nine, "See, that is what I said too. We all need our hooch." He then takes a puff, "Well, the only birds that I know that fly in space are Vipers and they are beautiful pieces of machinery." He then looks over at Randy, "And so long as you keep to sparring and stay away from Eddie and Jupiter you should be fine." He does take a moment to imagine what would happen if the three threw down.

Randy pauses in mid nibble of cheesy doodle to blink, lashes fluttering thoughtfully. "Yeah uh, I know how to brew, my pa taught us." She blinks some more before looking back to Castor. "Yeah, I spar when people ask but um, not to make a habit of it or anything. I'm here to handcuff people after all, not break noses."

Nine finally sets her drink down on the table, and carefully thumbs open her drafting book to a blank page, reaching down for her pencils and coming up with a deep teal-colored one. "Men often can only be consoled by the gaiety and repose offered on the breath of the Wine Lord," she agrees with Castor. "If you have the time to tell me how its done, I can find some quiet space and enough supplies to build whatever equipment we need." She unhooks a half-bookmark half-ruler from the page and begins to draw some lines on the page, up in one corner. She looks up at Randy, "We could serve the God together, if— you wanted."

Castor adds in, "And I can scrounge for parts, materials, and ingedients if you tell me what you need." He says with a glint in his eye, this seems like a plan that might come together. He then says, "Yes, consoled is a good word." He says as he takes another small sip, he isn't drinking as quickly as he normally does he is however almost done with his cigar.

Randy actually looks a bit surprised now, leaning back in her chair a bit. "I guess I could work something up to help yeah. I mean, I don't know if…well I mean." She just blinks and stares some more. "I'm not a priest. My mother was a priestess though, just not of Dionysus. I um." Oh wow, cheesy doodle, she eats it quickly.

Nine draws out a red pencil as well, tracing out another portion of line alongside each portion of green, slightly shorter, and annotating something in tiny, neat print along each line. It becomes evident quickly that what she's drawing is rather a blueprint than a drawing, proper. "I'm not a priest, either. But I guess we can serve the God in our own ways. Or… whichever Lord you follow. If you follow any," she adds, not wwanting to alienate any athiests, looking up to Randy, then, "Whom did your mother serve?" she asks quietly.

Castor takes a moment to look over at Nine as she speaks, "I'm so not a priest and I'm not among the flock of any of the Lords, however, and so if someone gets spiritual enlightenment out than so be it." He takes a moment snuff out his now used up cigar as he takes a small sip of brandy, he isn't drunk and it would appear to those who know Leda that he is being a very slow drinker right now. He then adds, "Though this has potential."

Randy ums and nibbles on a cheesy doodle, setting her deck of cards down and running her fingers through that short hair before clearing her throat. "We had a small altar thingie near where I grew up, but my ma uh…was supposedly this really awesome and hot blahblah chosen something or another, Aphrodite serving deal. She um, died. Giving birth to me and my brother. My pa never let us forget the lords and stuff." She grimaces a bit before looking down to her cheesy doodles.

Nine listens to the story quietly, trying to put it together, as syncopated as it is. She looks Randy over quietly, then gives a gentle smile, "I can see it in you. Blessed by Aphrodite," she murmurs. Which is to say, pretty.

Castor watches the pair and he stands, he doesn't know which way Nine swings, well he is pretty sure it involves something with an engine and parts however he is fairly sure that Randy is into the ladies. He then stands, "Why don't you two talk and listen, I am serious about this still. Let's make it happen. Randy get me a list of what you need, Nine can help, then get me a list of ingredients and I'll start looking for what you need there." He then smiles warmly with a nod and like that he is gone and look he left the booze for the pair.