Trash
Trash
Summary: Trash talk and trash novels are the topics when Fingers and Barney meet for the first time since their respective 'accidents.'
Date: PHD130
Related Logs: None
Players:
Jupiter..Barnabas..

Sickbay

The sickbay. The ship's refuge of the weary and dying. Or people willing to give blood. Or, in this case, The refuge of one B. Volker sitting on one of the beds, apparently waiting for something. It's ok, he brought a book. As a bonus, you're damn right it's trashy as all hell. He's being a little ignored in the general hustle and bustle of the room. Checkups aren't as high on the priority lists.

The hatch opens, in walks Jupiter Black, Lieutenant JG. Viper jock. She ruffles her right hand through her hair, and reaches up to adjust the neck strap on her sling. She grunts, and nods to the desk nurse, then wanders further into the bay to find somewhere to sit while she waits. Which happens to be in the bed down from Barnabas. Lucky marine. The bruises along her head have faded to a sickly yellow, the last stage before fading. She pauses in her walking to the bed, to reach over to snatch the book as she walks by. Asshole.

Barnabas is just on the good part, something about bodices being ripped off in moments of sudden passion. He doesn't get to find out in any depth what that 'something' is due to his book suddenly not being… well, HIS book anymore. There's a look of suprise and a cut-off "HEY!" Why is it cut off? Well, he recognises who just snatched it, of course. Face goes from suprise to a rather weary look of annoyance. Even his hand comes up to rub at his right eye, just to complete the expression. "Black." Oh, behold the resigned tone of underlying annoyance. Bask in it. "I was somewhat hoping you'd have died by the time I got out."

"You're in luck," Jupiter says, looking down at the title of the book. "I almost did." She only has the one arm to work with just now, the other being all in a sling from her recent close encounter with cylon raiders (up her ass) and an asteroid (up her grille). She scowls at the title, then flips the book around to read the page the marine was on. Her eyes scan the page, back and forth, back and forth. A brow arches delicately as she reaches the bodice ripping bit with throbbing this and that. "… He slid his roughened hand up her gently flushing thigh, into the depths of her skirts, and his fingers found her wet and ready for his throbbing —" She hasn't looked at him yet. Wait for it.

Barney just closes his eyes as she starts to read aloud, shifting to flop the frak down on his claimed bed. It's about time he actually used it as one instead of a chair with no back. The sigh is damn near epic as his head turns to watch the somewhat battered and one-functional-handed woman use said hand to read his freakin' book. "Bringing back memories of those trips to the country with your uncle, huh?" That permanent smirk of his suddenly seems a little more malicious.

"Yeah, well, when a man knows how to do it right, relationship really doesn't facto—" Her eyes come up, and the smirk curving her lips hints at something obnoxious about to come out of her mouth. And then Jupiter actually looks at Barnabas' face. "Holy frak mutant snarl."

The oddest thing happens. Barnabas laughs. Ok, so it's not a gut-rumbling belly-style guffaw, but it is a laugh. So, y'know, that's something. "Damn. If I knew all I needed to make you finally let a train of thought go was to get Shot In The Face<tm>, I probably would have done it a lot sooner." Whether this is progress, or just more fuel for the fire obviously remains to be seen.

Jupes tips back against the adjacent bunk, then slides onto the edge to sit. At least she keeps out of easy arms reach. She stares at his face for a second, then flips the book open again, finger keeping her place. "You did that on purpose, asshole." Like he placed the book to cover part of his face while he read, just so he could shock the crap out of the first person walking by. "You're the silly frak who got shot in the face."

"It's not my fault you're a pilot with the the crappiest focus i've ever seen in my life." Technically it's not his fault he got shot in the face, either, but that's neither here nor there. His head goes back on to the pillow, turning to stare up at the ceiling. Depending on side, she's either going to be stuck looking at it, or not seeing it at all. "And you can't call me silly, Miss 'Bounce like frak off of every astral body in space.'" He's not got his book anymore, so he's stuck with clasping his hands together behind his head. And tormenting. That's a large part, too.

"If you didn't have your head up your ass, I might be offended by that, chuckles," Jupes flips the book shut, losing his place, then tosses the paperback at the marine, a little harder that is strictly necessary. "Say it again after you learn to duck, you slow, dumbass motherfrakker. Gods, they should have put you out months ago."

"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you." Volker gives the side of his nose a rub with his thumb, which makes it a little hard to try and catch the book that goes careening off of his chest as a result before lazily plummeting to the ground, pages spread wide. "The 'put you out' bit, I mean. I'm pretty sure most of the ship knows how good your head is at keeping down."

"You got the wrong Black for that one, bootie," Jupes drops back to stretch out on the bed. She could move, but that would be just like admitting defeat. Better to stretch out here and raise someone else's blood pressure. She drops a hand across her belly, and pat-pat-pats out a beat. "Even if I were drunk, and we had a bag for your head, I still wouldn't take you for a ride."

Barnabas settles in to his own bed, giving the fingers behind his head a couple of clicks as he gets properly comfortable. This is a war of horrible, horrible escalation. It's only downhill from here. "You know the rules, Jupes. Using insults that were said to you every time you asked someone if they'd go to prom with you is just cheap."

It was pretty much a downhill ride the second she touched his book. Jupiter, making friends and influencing people. For the worse. She thinks about that for a moment, then says, "I gotta get my material from somewhere." She pauses to think about it, and then notes, "Every insult springing to mind has to do with your face, so let's just skip it and say you win." She throws a pillow at Barnabas and grunts as her back hits the mattress.

Winging the pillow right back where it came from with a flick of his arm, Barney gives a delicate scratch to the side of his head before his hands revert to their previous position. "All that flying into space rocks has ruined you, Jupes. This was barely even a battle." Look! Look at him. He's all dissapointed. All that time spent preparing to fight back against the obvious comments on his face, and the one person he was SURE would go for it… didn't. Dangs. "It's unlike you to NOT take the easy option. What's up?" The phrase is caring. His tone is… somewhat apathetic.

Life's a bitch when shit goes sideways, ain't it? "I slammed my ride into a giant rock at half speed and my wingman is space debris. He was kind of a little prick, but he was just an Ensign." Jupiter grunts, and grabs the pillow, then shoves it under her head. "The more pilots die, the more likely it is I'll get shot down. I need all the cover I can get." She sighs and rolls off the bed a moment after settling down. "Come on, you sadists, let's get this over with." She calls that toward the doctors, then scowls and drops onto the edge of her bed again. Restless? Nah.

"Someone might be mistaken for thinking you don't like it in here." Barney is highly observant, you see. Seriously, the man has a crazy insight into such subtle notions as Jupiter not being happy at waiting around the sickbay. Who would have guessed. His fingers drum at the back of his head, however, suggesting that maaaaybe he's not as keen on waiting around here as it might appear. "Sorry about the ensign. I know you need all the meatshields you can get to protect your sorry ass."

"Your powers are observation are astounding, asshole. Maybe you'd like to try for the big prize and guess what I'm thinking right now?" Jupiter shoots a look at the marine, blue eyes slightly narrowed. Dark curls fall across her cheek, somewhat ruining the growly exterior. She has a hard time fixing her hair properly with one hand and deep tissue bruising. "

Barney turns his head, staring directly at the pilot's narrowed, judging and slightly intense blue eyes. Hell, he even turns the rest of his body enough to lay on his side, head resting on his hand. "How many times you can savagely kick me before I start fighting back, because even though your wingman was a 'little prick', you either feel guilty for having him die, or just annoyed that there's another pilot who isn't coming home." A tiny little raise of the marine's eyebrows occurs before he adds "Maybe both."

"You want to back off that topic, Bootie," Jupes replies, voice lower than before, a little hiss through her teeth. She takes the couple of steps needed to close the distance between them, and reaches down to grab a handful of his shirt, along with the dogtag chain, twisting her fist in it. This, of course, gives him an opening should he choose to take it. It's hard to strong arm a full grown man with one arm when your body is steal healing from a fairly impressive viper crash.

Barney can't brag about hitting an injured pilot. That's like bragging about hitting an injured rabbit. His only response to the physical threat is to wrap his free hand around the Pilot's grabby wrist. Not tight, just enough to let her know it's there. "And you want to back off of the tags, Jupe. Trying to get all physical just because you're burying down whatever the hell it is you feel about the entire thing is almost as bad as the prom insults." Look! Freak face is using his soothy voice. "Get pissed at me for still being alive, not for reminding you that others aren't."

Her arm stills, though the tension in it remains, her muscles tensed. It's clear the pilot spends a lot of her time working out. She's not bulky, but rather toned. If she had both arms functional, this threat of violence might be a little more dangerous. Her eyes skim over his face, gaze leaving his eyes. Her attention settles on the ruined skin on the left side of his face, and she just stares for a long, quiet moment. Her thoughts are clear in her eyes for once. Heavy lashes lower slightly to shade clear blue, and she closes her eyes. But not before she pulls just hard enough to pop the ball chain holding the tags. If his hand had tightened, the response may have been a little more aggressive. Her fingers loosen as the point he made actually penetrates her piloty psyche, and the will to fight flows right out of her.

His fingers relax, slowly dragging across her wrist as he completely releases the grip. The dragging is nothing but a silent way of saying 'Hey. Letting go now.' Jupes is being silent, which is enough of a rarity that Barnabas is completely unwilling to interrupt it. All he does is turn his face when she looks at the cheek, allowing for a better look while the once-clinging hand is moving to reach down the back of his shirt to re-secure the chain without trying to pull it out of her grip. It's a little harder that it looks.

[Intercom] The gruff voice of one MSGT Nikos comes over the comms. "Attention off duty hands. Fight night will begin in the Gym in ten minutes. Tags in for the first fight in five. Pass the word."

Jupiter's fingers shake free of the chain, and she silently drops her hand to the center of the marine's chest. Her eyes remain closed for a beat, she touches him. Her hand stays there, just for a moment, over his heart. Her fingers slip away and she turns to beat it back to her side. The staff, otherwise occupied, didn't even notice the brief exchange, because neither the marine or pilot are getting yelled at.

The silence between them is utterly deafening. If it was any other male/female pairing on the ship, this probably would have dissolved into a shouting match which then dissolved even more into sloppy and incredibly disgusting makeouts. Sadly, (or thankfully) that's never how it goes between these two, so Barney just finishes re-attaching his tags the second her hand is back at her side. Yes, he WAS completely still when it was checking out his chest. It wouldn't be entirely out of the realm of his luck lately for her to have just tried to punch her way through his ribs. When she's turned, he finally moves properly, laying back on the bed as if NOTHING just happened.

Jupiter climbs back up onto her bed as well, nothing happened. Nothing at all. Just two patients waiting for the check up so they can get the frak out of medical and back to… off duty areas for the ritual pouting about not being on duty. "They're really frakkin' slow down here," she finally mutters, dropping her hand across her belly again. Drum, pat, pat, drum.

"Yeah." Barnabas appears to be just as impatient, fingers still rapping on the back of his head. "Any idea when you're going to be back on duty?" Yeah, that's right. We're into the 'small-talk zone.' Poor guy. He only came here to get cleared on his physical.

The small talk zone, littered with landmines and traps! Jupiter reaches up to comb her hair back from her eyes with her fingers, and she stares at the ceiling. "At least a week." She kicks her legs crossed at the ankle, and rubs her hand over the sling cradled arm. "I have a fifty raider debt to clear off the boards."

Rubbing the busted side of his face in a manner not unlike a very tired cat with poor depth perception, Barnabas just nods, letting out a little "Uh-huh." as he does so. May the gods have no mercy on the friends zone. "Just pretend you're a fourteen-year-old boy. You'll be used to using one hand for everything in no time flat."

"I don't like doing it myself," Jupiter is quiet for a moment before she says, "There's a perfectly good fight night going on. Stop being a pussy and get out of here. Go get your ass handed to you by a raging deck ape, or beat down Case or something." She clearly wishes she could do that one on her own. Alas, one arm = no admittance. Plus if he leaves, she gets out of here faster by moving up in the check up line.

Her comment gets a little sideways glance, that's for sure. The first one, anyway. It also gets a smirk, but it's on the left side of his face, so hell if anyone but him knows it's honesty. "Fine. Fine." Grunt. The Sergeant pulls himself out of the bed, boots hitting the ground with almost a light bounce. "If I get the shit kicked out of me, I'll send whoever did it down so you can hear how bad it was."

"Excellent. It'll cheer me up greatly thinking about you up there getting punched in the gut." Jupiter's smile is a little off, and her tone isn't quite gleeful like it might otherwise be. She's a damn party pooper all injured and maybe a tiny bit guilty feeling and all. "I'll catch up with you at the next one."

Barney's already moving. It's the same thing as when he's told he can go let off some steam on the range. Where there was once a Sergeant, there's now a Sergeant-shaped blur heading for the door, giving a half-wave behind his head as he goes. On the upside, Jupiter goes up in the queue. Downside? Now he's not there to be bitched at while she waits.

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