PHD 230: Addictions
Summary: Lithium, Tattoo, Nicotene, and Caffeine…
Date: PHD 230 (12/04/09)
Related Logs: None

The Rec Room is unusually quiet due to the status of condition two, leaving Zaris to sit by himself on a sofa. With his back against the arm of the furniture, his duty jacket is hanging from a hook on a bookshelf next to three horribly out of order titles on carrot farming, lithium addiction, and how cranberry chutney has a thousand uses. Having apparently seen the titles, Zaris has directed his attention towards his notebook. The notebook is an old black and white composition style notebook that rests atop a sketchpad on his knee. Like regular, he's jotting notes and scribbling away in a far more disconnected genius manner, rather than a dweeby little math nerd manner.

The hatch opens and in comes Vega, stepping through and gimping over toward the touch. She carries a large sketchbook under one arm, hardcover. A pen is clipped to the spiral rings. "Are you burning trees for some obscure mathematical notion?" The grounded pilot steps over, and moves to take up one end of the couch, careful of where she places her knee. It's annoying, not being able to sit how you want when you want.

Some time passes, albeit not much, before the hatch is opening again. Though instead of artists with notebooks, what enters is a marine-with a thermos. And a book- one of the oft borrowed titles- in the crook of his arm as barely a glance is sparred to pilot or gunner. Instead he's making for the book case, where one paperback book is slid, and fingers go to dust over the others before he's shaking his head. "Nuts." muttered as Tombs seeks out a seat, and plops himself down. Without further ado- he's going to fiddle with his thermos for a moment. But, the scent would be recognizable soon enough. Marine Country Coffee. Like Skippy used to make, before a Centurion turned him into paste.

"Until they find some sort of computer equipment that I can use, yes. So I'm being careful, treating it like a journal rather than scratch paper." Kamran replies, the cigarette dangling from his lip rising and falling with the smirk at the side of his face. Gazing up from under his bangs to look at her, he nods his head softly and goes back to his work. "I put a bit of tea on, since I let you know of this after you've seated yourself I offer my services to go and get a cup for you." Kamran turns his attention to Tombs, lifting his eyebrows. "Four and likely raising with time, unless you have a steroid habit, Tombs."

Vega's warm brown eyes skip from Z's notebook to Tombs as the S2 passes by and goes fiddling about with the bookcase. Her eyes follow Tombs, but then she blinks when he speaks. Her eyes slide up his back, and she just stares at the man. She did hear him right, right? … Oh wait, tea. "Yes, I'd like a cup. Just a little sugar if we have it." She glances back to Tombs again, after a brief eye contact with Zaris. Then she pages open her sketchbook. "The language in here. It could make a girl blush."

Tombs blinks looking back to Zaris for a moment. There's not a glance to the Weapons Officer's notebook. Just a stare right on back to the glorified gunner. "You have four? What?" Apparently the Marine isn't in on the joke- or he was caught off guard. With that he's pouring himself steeping cup, as eyes flick back towards Vega for a moment. "Would you have preferred: Godsdammit, Some frakking cocksucker took all the frakkin good books, leaving us with shit about carrots, chutney and some women's life novella about lithium addiction an how she loved some frak who got her hooked to it, voyeurism and thumbs up asses?" A beat, and with that he's patting down his pocket, only to produce a small packet of sugar. Tapping the paper before ripping open over the black cup top. Don't ask where he keeps his dying sugar stash. "The day you blush, Lieutenant, is the day they make me Captain, an I fart out the colonial anthem."

"Ball count." Zaris replies, folding his notebook shut. Sliding it onto the coffee table, he flips open his sketchbook to a page he's marked with a folded piece of paper. Turning the book over, he offers it to Vega as he rises. "You never struck me as the women's life story type, Tombs…I'm impressed." Zaris smirks softly as he rises and heads over to the teapot. Pouring a mug with some sugar added, he speaks with his back to them. "Any word regarding if Booster made contact with her cousin yet?"

Vega thinks on it a moment, and then shakes her head. "No, you're right, Lieutenant. Nuts has more…" Je ne sais quoi. "Panache." She grins a little at his colonial anthem reference, then pages back to a large detailed black ink drawing of a huge mermaid back piece. Her sketchbook is easily 30 inches tall. The shapes are organic and flow, the hair working both as water and adornment. "I can blush. I'm not that worldly." She makes no comment on Booster verbally, though she does shake her head in the negative.

"Ah. I have two-thank you. They just look like four- didn't know you were an admirer Zaris." Tombs replies dryly, before he's looking Vega for a moment. A brow up as if to ask what she is working on, however he's not peeking yet. Just taking a sip of coffee. "Thank you." a snicker all the same, drowned in the rim of his cup. Eyes cut back to Zaris, and there's a shake of his head. "No. Only request I got was from the XO of the other ship- to see his sister. CAG hasn't sent me any pleasantries to send along." a snap of fingers. "Though I got half a mind to send a request by hand, and send Booster insteada Kalson to deliver it to the S2." What Tombs breaking some rules? Well he's not as harsh as some…All the time.

Zaris smirks as he steps back over, setting Vega's tea on the coffee table to avoid risking getting a drop on her artwork. "If they look like four you should consider getting them looked at. Nuts, though, does have a certain panache to it." He replies, turning to face the coffee table. "Interesting spot of luck with all of these family members reuniting. Who is the Kharon's XO's sister, if I may ask?" Taking his cigarette back up, he reaches for Vega's sketchpad and takes it away from her, resuming his place against the opposite end of the sofa to look it over. "So this is the piece you're wanting? Thoughts on color while we've still got it?"

"That's very sweet." Vega notes, without looking up from some detail work in the drawing. She stays silent on the issue of breaking rules. Her fingers brush over the page before she resumes. "I have to wonder if Booster could make it all the way to the marine offices without getting taken into custody herself." The thought of unleashing Nikos on the Kharon amuses her, no doubt. "Muchas gracias," she murmurs, as the tea's set down nearby. "Much orange, red, blue, and purple with yellow hilights on the tail. Some green, not too much. How is your shading and blending?"

Tombs slurps his coffee a little loudly. "Dunno, either Arturis, or someone boring." apparently that is how the S2 is going to classify the KXO. A pat of his pocket, before he's looking back to the two tattoo talking cats-"Either of you got a smoke? I'll owe next time I see ya." apparently he is sans pack today- or just ran out. The issue of the Nikos withstanding. "They already have one over there- I am sure they'd just find it normal. However, she gets arrested, that would be hilarious." And now he's getting curious as he is trying to see what he can scope from his angle. "Whatisit?"

Zaris' recent drawings, at least since the last time she flipped through his work, consist of a few circuitry designs that technicians and mechanics may find worthy of being tattooed, colonial flag designs, and more pictures of the various Lords of Kobol…a constant favorite that he likes to add his own personal style to. "Likely if two Nikos are in the same place and time, the ships rather likely to explode. We should do our best to keep her cousin from visitng here as well, unless it's for touch up on her artwork." He pauses. "Cigarettes, you say?" Reaching into his pocket, he grips a pack of cigarettes that is unopened and whips it as hard as he can towards Tombs in a backhanded manner. It's likely that his aim is way, way off. "My shading's good, yes, it took me a while to get used to it but I've gotten quite better really…" He gazes over the mermaid. "I love what you've done here, you're quite brilliant with how I can see you've already considered the dimensions of your back. This will be rather fun to do." Kamran looks up, gazing at Vega for an answer to his question. As he does so, he tilts his head, silently asking if Tombs is allowed to see.

Vega takes a moment to tuck the pen behind her ear before she lifts and turns the sketchbook to show the page she's working on. It's a large naked mermaid in a sea of water and shells with accompanying sealife including an octopus, whirlpool in the background, and a stormy sea above. There's a ghost ship at the top, the sea more heavily shaded. "The top will be black and grey, then deeper into the water there's full color, so by the time you reach here," she taps the mermaid's hair. "Your eyes should be bleeding." She's joking about that eye bleeding thing. Probably.

"Technically, I shoulda been dead over five years ago-but who's counting…" Cup set down and the marine extends to catch, and bobble the pack, before he indeed packing said thing, since it is unopened. "Thanks.." muttered over to Zaris as he allows the two to talk their little artsy-fartsy stuff. Eyes flicking between the two Lieutenants before he's going back to the pack in his hand the the task there.

Tap-tap-tap "Three." Tombs barks, before he's opening the pack, and pulling out two cigarettes, though one is put ass down back into the pack, before he's lobbing it over to the gunner. The one with him is placed in his lips- and he's lighting up. "We would have three then. Already have two. Booster an another one.." a lick of his lips- yes he knows how many of one family is on his boat at one time. Eyes up with the drag as he studies the picture shown, and then a look that he holds for a few beats with Vega. "I like it." offered out and an exhale.

Kamran smirks at the mention of his eyes bleeding. "Yes, I'm already getting an idea of how I'm going to have to space…" He leans back, the cigarettes whip past his face and connect solidly with the back of the sofa, falling into his lap. "…this out across a few sessions. How's your portrait work? I think I'm finally going to want the one of my mother and father on my back shoulder that I brought up a few weeks ago." Kamran adds, turning to look at Tombs. "Three? I'm losing track of last names rather quickly, friend, but that's not too strange as I do nothing with rosters."

"I like it too, and it'd hurt like hell to have done." Vega adores tattooing, but not the pain associated with having them done — not to mention the number of hours it would take to have that particular piece done. "My portrait work is excellent, just like the rest of my work." Vega grins over to Z. "Color or black and grey?" Her eyes rest on Z for a moment, then travel over to watch Tombs. Maybe she's thinking about asking for a smoke.

"Three." Tombs confirms, without looking back. He knows his ship dammit. And with that he's looking to Vega, and he's rising up, while one hand reaches to carefully pluck up the coffee cup top and bring it over to the couch with him. Cigarette plucked out of his mouth-is passed over to Vega without so much of a word- and then he's slurping again. "I might have some of that medical goop left over from my last one. Not much, but it'll help." With the healing process. Spread it out for a long way.

Kamran raises his eyes to their exchange. His eyes travel on the cigarette as it moves from Tombs mouth to Vegas, quietly observing with a blank look on his face. Leaning to the side to grab the ashtray, he stubs out his own cigarette and sets the ashtray closer to Vega. "I love your black and gray work, so I'd want it to be that. I've got a photograph that I'll lend you if you. Consider it trade." He replies, sparking a lighter to life, leaning it towards Vega. "Ever think of getting cut, Tombs?"

Vega leans in to reach for the smoke as it's offered, and then scoops up her tea with the same hand before she straightens again. Sip, then smoke. She sets the sketchbook slightly aside on the couch. She flips it closed to protect the page, then settles back with the cup of tea. "Done." She nods to Tombs. "You haven't seen his ink?" The inquiry is for Z.

"He never comments on it when we snuggle." Comes Tombs response hopefully before the Gunner can answer, but then he's taking a squat on the nearby table. Eaiser to sit and share a smoke that way. More slurping of the coffee, before the cup is set down, and there's a slightly agitated look back to where he put the thermos. Mind powers- in that realm he does not have. "Don't think I have ever showed em.. Or he like most men, don't gaze at my body long enough." A nod though back to Kamran "I can show what I got?" if he doesn't mind him pulling off his duty shirt- and going to the black t-shirt briefly. "Been thinkin about getting more." Well that and touching up a few things.

"No, but allegedly I admire his nuts." Zaris replies with a smirk, quick drawing with the sarcasm. Lighting another cigarette for himself, he lobs the pack up through the air to land atop the coffee table. Tea in hand, he and Vega become the tea/cigarette/tattoo wonder twins for just one picturesque moment. The cigarette bobs as he speaks, wafting smoke up towards the ceiling as he forever glances between the two of them through his bangs. Without another word, he motions for Tombs to ante up. "Let's see what you've had done." With a clinical manner about him, he leans in to peer at the work. "Vega? I'll make you a deal, if he does want more work I'm willing to take the touch up jobs if you want the creative, new pieces. He seems to like you better."

Vega smiles at the snuggle reference. "Maybe he's too busy looking into your eyes, Tombs." She takes another drag, then reaches over to pass the cigarette back to the S2. Tea and cigarettes. Hardcore. "Of course he likes me better, Zaris. Whose hands would you rather have all over your delicate flesh?" She holds up a finger. "Purely rhetorical question."

And there he is going pulling out the duty shirt, unbuttoning carefully before he's shrugging off the shirt, with a dry look between them. "Whatever- he snores when he sleeps." And with that he's showing what he has. On his Right arm there is are two black bars that have been coloured in above a bit of Mierce script. Under that in green and dark blue would be a traditional thing seen amongst any Aerilon male- least those from the mountains, but a thick arm band, made of knotwork and thorns. A few names and dates-hard to make out, but the other big pieces is on the inside of his foream extending down to his wrist. A heart with a Dagger through the center. The Motto of the CMC written-which if one was a marine would take it to be the Emblem for the LZ, or Landing Zone. One of the few famous training places in the CMC mini world. "That's what I have.." he adds, before he's making a motion to reach for the cigarette from Vega. "Could do with a few more.. Got some stuff on my chest, but it ain't fancy.."

"Semen never is." Zaris replies, a smartass among fellow officers. Nodding his head appraisingly at the work, he gives the words in Mierce a look of recognition, clearly capable of reading them. Dragging off of his cigarette, he looks to Vega. "You've made a point there, let's just hope the Kharon isn't filled with women who don't find men attractive or I'm doomed to you likely being my only canvas." Kamran snorts a cloud of smoke, leaning back against the arm of the sofa to take a sip from his mug of tea. "You get those done back then, Tombs, before the Hestia?"

Vega sits back with her tea in hand. She nurses the cooling beverage, without even a second glance at the thermos of marine coffee. Maybe pilot digestion is too sensitive for the CMC sludge 'coffee'. She turns on the couch a little, and drapes her right leg over the arm of the couch. "You have trouble finding clients you're not bedding? Maybe you should work on your drawing skills."

"That I did." Nate replies, before he's finally moving to stalk over and snag his thermos. And then, right on back he comes, plopping down to pour himself another cup. See He's a man's man-or something. Drinkin' sludge and killin' toasters. "Which is why, Lieutenant Navarro wants me t' touch em up." A grunt there. "Frakkin' can see why-colour's fadin' an-" he just shakes his head. "Been a long time since I had work done- Would be nice to get some new ones t' go with th' newer memories." He'll be thoughtful for a moment, another drag and the cigarette is passed back.

"No, but it was a response to your who's hands question." Kamran replies, pausing for another sip from his tea. "If physical or genuine attractiveness is an issue as you did imply, then I'm left with that lot to deal with. I'll find a way to steal your market, Vega, you've got the popularity card." He chuckles softly, somehow managing to look a bit shaggier than normal for a moment as he appears a mouth with no eyes. "Well if you do, tell your friends. I've a lot of ink and I imagine Vega does as well, and judging by the hole in the side of the Kharon you never know when the storage is going to get hit and we'll be forced to make our own marginably non-toxic inks."

There's a nod from Vega at the mention of touching up Tombs' tatts. The ink could use a refresher. She's never been one to let a tattoo age on its own just because it can. Any chance to make a marine bleed, you know? "The popularity card?" The pilot is amused. "I've got the skills card, cabron. You forget so soon." She makes a sign of warding. "Don't even say that about storage. If I have to go back to mixing ash inks…"

"Bug the parson for ashes from libations, I am sure he'll be tickled from testicles to toes, to provide." Nothing like bouncing people off to support for things like ink. "Or use a pen. I hear that won't kill you too much." Tombs grunts and quickly takes another sip, before checking his watch. Shirt, and thermos gathered he's standing, which leaves Vega with his smoke- oh well. "Got one last rotation for the day-and then an early night, boys and girls." As if they really care to know what he is going to be doing, or not doing. "Anyway, pleasant chat. Duty calls, don't frak walls-yadda, yadda." A beat as he looks over to Zaris "Lieutenant.." And then eyes over to Vega and a slight salute "V." and with that someone is tramping off to the hatch.

"Aye aye…lords bless the storage." Kamran says as he offers a wave to the departing Tombs. Turning his gaze back to his mug of tea, he tilts his head and dips a finger inside to find a stray piece of ash. Flicking it to the floor, he scowls and takes a sip from his drink. After the tea is sipped, he washes it all down with another drag from his cigarette. Tilting his head upwards to exhale towards the ceiling, he lowers his gaze back to her. "All I ask, Vega, is that if you are a overbooked that you send a few people in my direction. I won't nearly meet as many of their pilots alone as you will, aye? Now that the bloke's gone, I've got to ask. Think my work's getting better? I'm finding myself less frustrated with the creative process."

There goes Vega, always left cleaning up after marines. In this case, she doesn't mind, as it means she has an excuse to finish off a smoke. She flicks a two finger salute at Tombs, then goes back to nursing her tea. Her eyes flick over to Z and she watches him for a moment. "I'll send you some business. I've seen your work, and I know you're good enough to be in the business, such as it is these days." She smiles a little. "You know we have to rebuild the tradition ourselves. Cannot have it die out with us."

Gazing back at her eyes, Kamran finally turns his vision to the coffee table. Reaching for the ashtray, he taps his forefinger over the cigarette, causing the ashes to flutter down inside. "I'd never thought about that until now." He says, his eyebrows fluttering at the sudden realization. "That means we might someday have to apprentice somebody, find something to train them on since we're out of oranges." He adds, turning to look at her again. "Maybe suggest it to the chaplain, so that they know how to do wedding tats?"

Vega nods in agreement. "You know, when I learned, I learned on myself." Most of her tattoos remain covered unless she's wearing something more skimpy than a one piece bathing suit. "And I learned on my friends. I'm sure there's any number of willing soldiers out there." She lifts her tea slightly to gesture, encompassing the BS and the CEC.

"The only real way to do it. Start them off easy, black and greys, unit and posting logos." Kamran nods in agreement. Bringing his knees up to his chest to rest his arms over, he sips at his tea once more and watches her over the rim of his mug. "I get so busy with my work, obsessing over a few things I'm working on that I always put in some time for my art every day. Just never really occurred to me we'd find another ship, more people to ink." He pauses, lifting his eyebrows beneath the hair that nearly hides his eyes at this angle. "It's been a while. Have you been well?"

There's a bit of a pause as Vega considers the question. She mms, sipping from the mug. "There are good days and bad. Rough days and good days, as always. I am better than I was on PH 24." The day after her accident, when they told her there was a chance she would yet lose her leg. "But there is pain every day. I distract myself with my duties. It could be much worse." She smiles slightly there, and nods over. "Are you well?" She finishes off the cigarette, and reaches over to drop it into Tombs' ashtray mug.

Nodding his head at her mention of PH 24, Kamran glances to her shoulder to give her a little privacy to go along with her memories. When she directs the question back to him, he finds her eyes again. "Well enough." He replies, taking a final drag from his own cigarette. Smirking, he dumps it as well into Tombs' mug. "You know me, I obsess. Nothing too clinical I'm sure but for the last ninety days I've been working on a formula that might aid the gunnery systems. Distance, velocity, vectoring of Cylon Raiders all of it in an attempt to force them to throw themselves against our weapon batteries, creating a corridor for Vipers to know that they'll come through. Egghead rubbish, really but these things do slip into my mind and stay there, and then when I realize it might be worthwhile I feel the louse for not working on it." He chuckles softly. "It keeps me occupied, but…it's a quiet place."

"If the ship is overrun, I doubt you'll find a lot of time for that quiet." V touches her hair, then tucks a few dark strands behind her ear. "If we integrate, where'll be training and standards checks. Getting to know a lot of new people at once." She glances over. "You know, I never thought we'd see reinforcement again." She sips her tea. "Not since we lost the Patricia and Kansai." The civvie ship and the destroyer that went missing from a jump on 157.

"That…" Kamran's voice trails off, nodding his head with a bit of sadness on his face. "…that was a dark day indeed. I had a few mates on the Kansai. Did some work on some people on the Patricia, do you remember that one Zeus piece I did? The bloke was a pilgrim when the war hit. Perhaps they're still together." Kamran suddenly changes gear, shaking his head from left to right. "I suppose you're right though, which is why I suffer the quiet of working all of this out in my spare time, perhaps it'll save us from being boarded, perhaps it won't, but it directs me to a place I'm endeared to." He pauses, sipping from his tea again. By with how far back the mug tilts, he couldn't have much left to drink. "After the Patricia and the Kansai, do you find yourself welcoming the idea of meeting them, or wishing they'd just stay over there?"

"More soldiers in the most difficult war we've ever faced as a people? Are you kidding." Vega finishes off her tea and shakes her head. "Anyone having second thoughts about joining together is insane. We don't have time for separatist bullshit. All those years of feuding between the colonies. You would think people would have learned we are never safe or whole divided."

"Wise words." Kamran replies with a nod of his head. Moving his hands to hold the mug at each side to keep them warm, he leans up and folds his legs into a cross-legged position. Resting his elbows on his knees, he shrugs softly as he maintains eye contact. "I think that I've seen it on some faces in the hallway as they speak about the Kharon, that it's apparent that there's a bit of relief that we're not all by ourselves anymore after what happened." Kamran lowers his eyes to the space between them, furrowing his brow to ward away the bad memories. He smirks softly and signs himself just like she does, a thing he does from time to time when he's in her presence. "Nonetheless, it'll be good for business. Nikos' cousin somehow managed her way into the service with star tattoos on her face, if I hear corretly from Tombs? I'll remember this the next time the TACCO wants me to get a haircut."

"I have a fairly strong survival instinct," V replies, with a glance to her leg. "Some evidence to the contrary." She laughs, "Your hair versus her tattoos? You really think that'll work? She's a marine. You know they'll let anybody in."

Kamran laughs with her, bringing his gaze back to her face. "Yeah and I'm an officer. I'm frakked. I've just never liked having short hair, and I push the regs as far as I can take it. Can't have the man that presses the nuke button looking…" He airquotes "shite." He adds with a smirk. He then spares a glance to her leg in the brace. An unsaid question falls over his face, which he doesn't shy away from. "Well, how is your survival instinct coming along? I saw you swimming the other day, is your leg managing better?"

"Better in terms of walking without more than the brace. I'm no where near the cockpit. Which isn't really… better." Vega shrugs, as if putting the idea aside. "Time." A lot of time. "It'll be the sims for me for a while." Probably the rest of the war. How long can it last?

"Understandable." Kamran replies, choosing a rather non-slang word as normal, a sign of something that was beaten out of him at the academy. Pausing to drain the last few drops from the mug, he sets it down on the coffee table and turns back to her. "I trust that you'll be back in the cockpit someday and if you ever need my help with anything, Vega, even it's something as simple as trying to run interference so that you get some Sim-time in peace, you know where I haunt." Kamran says with a slow nod, leaning back against his end of the sofa as he watches her. "So tell me more about this piece…" He leans back forward again, motioning to her sketchbook. "…why mermaids?"

Vega smiles slightly, listening to Kamran as he offers up his assistance. She nods slightly, eyes dropping to the empty mug. She glances over finally, and says, "We're sailors. She's a nautical pinup, a piece of ancient mythology. At once a representation of Aphrodite, and something more. She is beautiful, and I have always loved the water."

"Let me guess…" Kamran opens his pack of cigarettes, offering her one first. "…you spent the afternoon after your shift working on the piece. After finally getting it where you wanted it, you looked it over, which is when you decided to go to the pool?" Kamran asks, tilting his head a little to see if he's right. "I was wondering what you were thinking of when you were floating like that."

"I was thinking that it would have been an altogether perfect experience if only a had a crayon long enough to reach the ceiling," Vega replies, smiling a little as she thinks back to the pool, and floating along the surface.

"Well it was a decent guess, at least." He chuckles softly, lowering his gaze to the pack of cigarettes. Fishing one out for himself, he slides it between his lips and lights it. The pack is left on his knee, should she want one. "If you did have one…what would you have drawn up there?" He drags off of the cigarette, exhaling to the side. Lowering his hand to rest alongside the couch by his knee, he keeps the smoke away from the space between them.

"I usually don't know until I start." Vega glances over. "My dream would be to freehand tattoo a redhead from neck to toe." Pale skin that takes color like nobody's business. "Maybe I can find one over on the Kharon, and bribe them." Provided the military wouldn't throw a shitfit about putting a ton of ink on its remaining property.

"Provided you can find a redhead, they're a mite rare." Kamran replies with a grin. Little does Kamran know that the Kharon is thirty percent ginger. "If you have any trouble finding one, I could let you do a little freehand on me." He motions to his full and half sleeve. "My back's untouched and I'd want the one of my folks on either of my shoulder but that leaves a good three quarters of my back open." He shrugs. "But in return I'd like a little canvas of my own from you. Call it a tribute to being a good drinking buddy."

"I never refuse a willing body for freehand work." Vega grins and nods in agreement. "You've got yourself a deal. My left leg is entirely free of ink." So is the right, but it's pretty heavily covered in scar tissue, so best not go there unless necessary. "I ask there be no zombies, huge tits, or insects."

Kamran lifts his eyebrow and gives her a sardonic look. Blinking his blue eyes through the fringe of his bangs, he huffs inwardly. "Would I do that to you? No, never any of those three, no. Nothing humorous either. Just stay out of my sketch while I work on it, aye?" He asks, ashing his cigarette. "…and as for myself, no genetalia, no bleeding skulls with bat wings, or lamias. I'm not some knock off long haired pirate space farmhand gypsy." He grins softly. "I trust you. You are, after all, the better artist of us two."

"I wouldn't tattoo a giant pair of lips on your ass or a giant goth scene on your back. I'm not that predictable." Vega's smirk is brief. She nods to her fellow artist. "I'm sure we'll both have work we're proud to show."

Stretching his arms out before him, Kamran's face contorts with the strain. "Frak what time is it?" He asks, raising his wrist to look at the face of his watch that's been positioned at the inside of his wrist. Slipping his cigarette between his lips, he brushes a hand through his hair and begins to stand. "I should probably head to get some rest." He gazes down to her as he reaches for his pack of cigarettes. "Give me a few days to get the tattoo ready for your back, lords, where do you want to do this?"

"Storage seems like as good a place as any. Just need a lamp and some gauze." Vega glances up, after a moment of thought. "I have a lot of time in the middle of shift. I can set up the space." She nods to the hatch. "Just let me know which day when you're ready with the design."

"Yeah, I will. I've got long watches up in CIC being onhand, especially with this Condition two and you know I need my beauty sleep." He pauses, mentally calculating, something he tends to always do. "Three days minimum by my count, so if you see me working furiously on something in the Observation Deck, nudge me only if you've made tea." He replies, gathering his stuff up. Leaning down, he offers her a quiet hug. "Til next time, Vega. It's always a pleasure."

Vega accepts the hug, and returns a little squeeze. "Don't work yourself to blindness up there. It's quite dark." She gives his upper arm a squeeze as well, then sits back. "Be safe."

Stepping away from her, Kamran leaves a pair of cigarettes next to her mug on the coffee table. "You too." He simply offers, a quiet and disconnecting nod follows. Sliding the pack away, he hefts the two pads of paper and moves for the door. Without another look back, he spins the hatch and steps outside.

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