Summary: Dutch interrupts a private mourning thing, fight almost ensues.
Date: PH069 (26 June 2009)
Related Logs: None

CEC Kharon, Deck 3, Storage
IC Time: Post Holocaust Day #69
OOC Time: Fri Jun 26 23:46:25 2009

Boxes. Lots of boxes. Most of the contents of this room are property of General Distribution but cleaning supplies are also kept here along with stacks of toilet paper, empty jerricans, and basic tools for fixing usual problems in this area of the ship. Hazardous Materials cleanup kits are also kept here in case of an incident in the lab.

The storage room is dark, the lights are turned down about half. In the back, someone's seated on the boxes. Only the bottom half of the legs and feet are visible from the door. Jupes is back there with a pack of smokes, a bottle of ambrosia, a shot glass, and a cherry scented candle burning on a little ceramic plate.

The faint chirp of the hatch might be missed, but the sudden turn on of bright ass light cannot, as clearly someone had decided it to be a good time to come in here, and turn the frakking lights all the way back up. The sound of combat boots, and then there's a look over towards where Jupiter has squirreled herself away. A frown there "Blow that frakking shit candle out before you catch shit on fire. Gods dammit." Yes, that would be a rather gruff Sergeant coming down on whomever was unlucky enough to be stuck with him doing inventory duties tonight. Dutch, ever the conscientious person.

There's a slight dragging sound as a boot is pulled back over the hard cases she's seated on. Her boot finds better purchase and tips in, the heel in a crevice between two cases. She squints against the light, one hand coming up, bottle in it, to block her eyes. "Go turn the lights the frak back down, asshole." Jupiter squints over her hand, blue eyes intent. "Now." That might come out a little more commanding if she hadn't already had half a bottle, and her dark curls weren't mussed and in her eyes like she just woke up.

"Hoolly frak. Are you drinking, with a frakking candle in my boxes of hazardous material clean up. You know if that candle spins one way or the other, you could go up with a burn worse than Napalm, because Napalm we can cure, your massive ass covered in boiling chemicals, we cannot, because you would have set fire to half the things that could save you." Dutch loves to lecture when he's in a piss sour mood, and it seems he's not going to turn those lights down any time soon. "Get the frak out of the boxes Lieutenant." Ever the Corpsman, and a native of Tauron, she is probably stuck with one of the more bullheaded and stubborn Marines around.

Jupiter comes up off of the crates, shoves the cigarette between her lips, and gets all up in Dutch's space, just so it's clear when she's talking to him that she means it. He can be bull headed all he likes. Jupiter's… Jupiter. "You want me out, you drag me out. Until then, shove off or frak yourself, jarhead. The candle isn't gonna frakkin' spin, and nothing's gonna burn aside from your ass if you don't back the frak up off me." She reaches up to jab him in the chest with a hard little fingernail. And the touching boundary is broken, just like that. "Make a choice, asshole."

"You do that again, and I will escort you from the room." Dutch isn't exactly the best person to be poking. Unlike Swift, Elder's bullshit meter rides pretty low , and he won't let small things like poking or punching go right on by. "Blow out the frakking candle-now-sir. And I'll let you go back to your little romantic evening of one." A kiss of his teeth "You can drink, fine, smoke fine, but the candle goes. Understood?" And this is where it gets dicey, doesn't it.

"Piss off, bootie." Jupes says it one last time before she returns to her seat on the crates, and tips back to resume her earlier slouch. She kicks a boot up on the edge of the crate, and goes back to smoking. The candle continues to burn on its dish. "The candle is fine where it is. You have an issue, go find my CO."

"Frak off flightie, you see this right here." he motions t the room "This is my jurisdiction, hell you could be in here doing blow- and I could give a frak less. however, because of that." And the motion is to the candle "I have to. See that sign?" And he points over to the clearly marked Hazardous material sign "That says no flame on the frakking boxes. And if you want me to call your CO about something petty I will. Which one you want?" asked, as it seems the Sergeant is actually willing enough to go outside to call one up "See, simple rule- Blow out the candle, and you can stay where you are, while I do the glorious job of counting boxes. Its win win that way. You can smoke, drink and be miserable, and I can do my job and be miserable."

"Frak sakes." Jupiter grouses, the cig bobbing between her lips. "I'm comfortable. So you want it out, you lean over and give it a blow. I hear you're pretty good at that up in Marine Country." She tucks her boot against the crate edge again, resettling. The candle is somewhere around her knee atop the crate. "Let me know if you need help counting. Looks like you might have to use your toes too."

"You're as charming as a whore's mouth sir." Dutch says easily enough before he's walking over with his clipboard, and with that he's wetting two fingers, and reaching down to squinch out the candle like that. "No, I think I got them number down sir. Anything else you wanna berate me on? I am sure my intelligence will only go so far for your mighty jabs of wit." Again words are dry, nor does it seem as if Dutch truly gives an ape's lick of shit. Silence ensues as the Marine begins to count, before he's looking up after notes are written out on his clipboard. "Why are you hiding here anyway? Don't you cool kids have a spa or some fancy shit?"

Jupes tips her head back against another crate she's leaning on. She smokes quietly for a moment before she says, "That's the best compliment I've gotten all damn day." One hand remains wrapped around the bottle, which rests between her thighs, and the other is draped across her belly. "You could do with a shave. Other than that, not at this time. When you licked your fingers just then, it turned me on a little. I might need a minute alone, so count faster." She blows out a breath of smoke, and it curls lazily toward the ceiling of the storage room. "Nothing's sadder than mourning with booze and smokes without a whore around to get things going. Thanks for pointing that out."

"Glad I could tickle your clit there sweetums." Oh the mouth on this Marine. Still Dutch continues to count boxes, another pause as he writes down a few more numbers. "Oh you're in mourning huh." And there's a hard pause before he's looking back to her. Slightly scowling but then he is back to his normal bit. "My apologies. Were you close, or were they an acquaintance?" Hey at least he isn't going to poke fun at having dying friends.

"Not really," Jupiter replies, on the heels of flipping Dutch the bird. It's a lazy toss, and she's not even looking at him when she does it. Might come off a little crooked. "We flirted once, then he confessed his pain, punched me in the face, and hung himself." She takes a swig from the bottle. "It was great."

Dutch blinks and looks back over for a moment "You were friends with the former Padre?" A brow up for a second. Apparently flipping the medic the bird doesn't do much to bring him to anger. Someone will have to really search for his buttons, or just do silly things, like light candles. "I'm sorry." said simply. before he's writing down a few things. "Never knew him well, personally. I don't go to chapel all that much, but I did know he was a Marine.. I ain't like the others…Sometimes you leave the Corps, but you're always a marine.." A sniff "Seemed like a good feller to me."

"Don't be sorry. I'm only pissed because he didn't start a proper fight before he went off and did it. That and some pilot he banged is emo moping around all the time, while she's trying to bang my brother, lamenting her part in all of this." Jupiter nods a little, then says, "He seemed like a good man to me, too. Even with the Corps sticking to him like he needed a wash." She doesn't even seem to have the energy to snap that insult. It just flows naturally out with her words. "You probably would have liked him." She finishes her cigarette, then stubs it out against the bulkhead. "I only go to chapel to nap."

"I only know of one pilot with open legs, you aren't her.." said simply. yes even Marines have ears. Dutch places another check box, as a few more numbers are crunched and a few more notes on cleaning materials is made. "I think I would. We get a lot of the grief them religious folks get-medics I mean. Other leathernecks see us ad meddling. Frak them. I am sorry if my patching your ass up takes time out of you getting killed." A shrug before he's looking back to Jupiter "I'm a follower of Mithras, so-I don't go."

"I don't believe, so I don't go." Jupiter shrugs and reaches for her pack of smokes, fishes another out, then pops it between her lips. "Except when I need a solid nap without all the pissing, moaning, and frakkin' that goes on in the berths." She pats her pockets down for that lighter she just had. "Don't talk about my legs unless you're between them. It puts me off."

"You ever want a review, let me know.." said probably about her legs, but Dutch stays focused partially now on the task at hand. Instead he's looking back towards Jupiter "Mind if I ask you a question?" a glance "Why do you got such a hard on for LC Swift?" of course Dutch would ask that question of all things "Is it cause he's a marine, or you two some how light each others fires?"

"Not sure you're qualified to do the reviewing." Jupes shakes her head, finally digs out a lighter, and gives it a flick-flick-flick. "It started out cos he's a marine. Then it just kept going because the little frak doesn't know when to leave well enough alone. Every time I try to get past it, he just drags me back down." She shrugs. "Now it's just the MO. Kind of familiar. Like razor burn." Flick-flick-flick. She shakes the lighter. It's a disposable, obviously empty. She goes into another pocket, and pulls out a little silver zippo. "Frak you too." She's talking to the lighter, but hey, it could be mistaken. She flicks it open, gives the wheel a spin, and touches the flame to the cig. The CMC logo on the side flips up as she tosses that onto the crate between her thighs.

"Above my paygrade?" Dutch retorts before he is shaking his head. Finally he's patting a pocket to pull out a battered pack of smokes before he looks back to her. Already asking for a light once one of his own cigarettes is pulled out. But to the motion, there's nothing. rather it seems he is focused more on the logo "That your old man's?" meaning your father's after all he doesn't expect a pilot to carry one of those around.

Her eyes drop to his fatigues. "Probably above your pay grade." Jupiter snorts a laugh at the second question. "Not even a little. Daddy wouldn't know a rifle if it bit him in the ass." She drops a hand between her thighs, and gives the lighter a little spin on the crate. It flashes in the light briefly. She taps a finger against the logo to stop it moving, then picks it up. "It was a parting gift. Padre must have thought it would be funny. Irony ain't lost on me, but I smoke, he left me a lighter. Who am I to bitch." She flicks the flame to lift again, and tips forward to hold it up slightly. Dutch will have to come to her for the light.

Dutch comes over, and seemingly has no qualms leaning in between her legs to get the light. A suck of breath and nicotine and he's leaning back for a puff "Those lighters only run out of fuel. They're made to always be able to light-and in any condition, save under water." A nod "Keep a hold of that..Sure it meant something to him if he wanted you to have it." And the Sergeant takes another drag. "So what's your beef with the corps..Or are you going on the usual jack ass pilot we're better than you because we sit ourselves on rockets fueled on tylium and could explode when we come screaming out of the tubes-shit?"

Jupiter flips the lighter closed with a click. She turns it over in her hands. "… Didn't realize it was so useful. I'd send a thank you note, but… eh." She lifts a shoulder. "Too much postage." Afterlife humor, cute. She tucks the lighter into a pocket and glances up at Dutch. "Of all the reasons pilots are better than marines, you go with that one?" Jupiter shakes her head, as if lamenting some great travesty. "My beef with the Corps is personal. I'm not drunk enough to share. I have, however, recently come to appreciate the," She waves her hand a little, after a drag from the cig, "PT you lot go through. It makes for eye candy. Good with a girl's looking at a forever cruise with no hope of shore leave. The spank bank grows every day."

"Like I said, glad I can tickle your clit, sweetums.." A grumble there and a drag. as for why she doesn't like the Corps being personal he simply nods "That's fine. I only like one pilot- The rest of you I figure I'll outlive by a longshot." Dutch again showing his honesty before he's taking another drag "An that just comes from years of abuse one gets from your lot-Ya'll are good at building ire, I can tell you." and he takes time to ash down on the floor before he's placing his hand on the crate. "You're tolerable.."

"You'd be tolerable if you were more naked and less talky," Jupiter observes, in her ever expanding quest to shut the marines the frak up. "Which one is it you like? Wait… wait. Let me guess." She holds up the hand with the cig. "Everyone loves the CAG. Marek's the piece of ass the entire ship chases. One day he's just gonna get mobbed in the mess." She smirks and pops the cig into her mouth for a brief toke, before she drapes the hand holding it over a knee. "I almost only throw shit when it gets tossed my way first, unless we're talking Swift. Then it's just a race to see who can pull the pin."

"Not the CAG, he strikes me as a cold fellow, and a little awkward." Dutch offers with the flick of his cigarette. "I'm a fan of the one armed kid. Roubani. He's an officer, and a damned nice fella." That's it, if she asks he might tell her, other than that Dutch. There's a chuckle "We have a bet on who is going to kill the other one first. My money is on you, just so you know." Dutch might enjoy Ashe as a friend, but he'd put it in your cold black heart that you could out maneuver the LC anyday.

"You're probably right. Swift is a little slow on the draw, and he's scared to hit girls. Morals just stop you getting the job done," Jupiter replies, with a snort. She reaches over to ash on the plate with the candle, flicking the end of her cigarette lightly. "Poet barely speaks." She nods, "I can see why you'd like him." Jupes sighs, and then rolls to her feet. A toss of her head flicks dark curls from her eyes, and she steps over to Dutch. "If it came down to us, he'd lose. But it won't. He's too frakkin' fond of eating enemy fire." She pats Dutch's ass, and steps around him to pick up the second bottle, this half full of whiskey, that she had stashed. "Right behind you. Don't move." She bends, and snags it.

"And he keeps me in business. He's a good soldier though." A nod as he looks half over his shoulder, as she simply moves to grab the bottle, and the Sergeant returns to his writing. "You good?" asked before he is turning around to look back towards the woman a brow raised for a moment to see said bottle of whisky and there's a slight nod. "Ah." A cocked grin there with his laugh "Well if I ever have to hit you, the fact you don't have a penis ain't going to make me pull a punch, princess."

"That's what I like to hear, Sergeant." Jupiter nudges him as she moves by, and plants that bottle next to the other one atop the crate. "You ever gotta hit me, you put me down, because if you don't, I'll rip your nuts off." She drops onto the crate. "Nice ass." Her feet kick up and she crosses her legs at the ankles, resuming her slouch. "I'm always good. Great has been thrown around. Mind blowing once or twice, but I was drunk, so they don't count. It's all about motivation. Not a lot of it around here." She glances between the ambrosia and whiskey, as if deciding between them. "He is. He's young, though, and full of piss. I do like the way his eyes kind of go all crazy and he turns funny colors when I talk about his mom."

"You ever seen me fight?" Dutch apparently seeks to bring people down in one or two hits. And like that he goes on. As for the other he simply chuckles out a few puffs of smoke "Thanks." offered hoarsely before, he's raising his brow "Like I said I'll write a review, don't sell yourself to me, its ugly." A slight tsking before he is moving to check the number of the crate she's on. "Just leave his mother out of it-go for something original.."

"Originality doesn't make him turn funny colors, Sergeant. Find the button and stick with it. Didn't your first hooker teach you anything?" Jupes shoves the cig between her lips, and loosely crosses her arms. The cig bobs with her words. "Your way with words, you must have to pay for it." She glances over. "I'm not moving, so don't ask."

"Yeah Punch her in the throat and take her money. Tell your sister thanks, by the way." Dutch adds as his eyes squint and then he is back to jotting down numbers. A glance back up to her for a moment "Nope. Never have- don't spect I will." said simply as he comes up from where he was located and he's already hunting down more boxes. "How come a storage room for mourning?"

"I'm sure Marty would say it's all in a day's work. Pride in his occupation, that one," Jupiter replies dryly. She glances around. "Why not? It's empty, I don't have to watch anyone cry, and there's a lot of sexual energy in here. I'm sure it's been banged in about three hundred times since we left the shipyards. Keeps it from getting too heavy in here." She thuds a crate with her heel. "I like the ambiance."

"A storage room gets heavy?" Dutch raises a brow, before he's shaking his head as he walks away towards the hatch. "Well, I'll leave you to it then, Lieutenant…" a look back towards Jupiter "Mourn on..or whatever.." And the sergeant starts to slip out.

"Other parts of the ship, Sarge." Jupes lifts her bottle to the marine, and flicks the lighter again. She leans forward, and touches the flame to the candle, then tips back again. "Sweet dreams."

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