| Bangbangbang! |
| Summary: | Guns are vile devices… although it's funny when they're responsible for a clothing malfunction. |
| Date: | PHD 255 (December 30, 2009) |
| Related Logs: | Related Logs (Say None if there aren't any; don't leave blank) |
| Players: |
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— [ Firing Range - Deck 11 ] — [ BS Hestia ] —
The small arms range affords marksmanship practice to those crewman who need to hone or brush up on their skills. A half-dozen firing lanes are lined up in a neat row, separated by half-walls of gray metal grates. Aluminum targets are at the far end of the lane, suspended from hooks so they can be moved to different distances. Next to the hatch is a rack containing eye and ear protection, required for anyone entering the firing range which is strictly enforced. The weapons and rubber practice ammunition are locked up, with a marine guard on duty to sign them in and out.
"C-A Eir, you're up," the duty range master tells her, handing the weapon — a small pistol — over when the woman's number comes up on the display. "Lane four." A metallic tang fills the air, faintly similar to the smell of live ammunition. Two Marines thump fists at lane 4 before one leaves with a compact chattergun and a clipboard, the other remaining behind. Wearing blacks and a black-and-white checkered kerchief around his neck, Panda eagerly looks out at the waiting sailors. "No more Marines?" he asks, looking over to the range master. "Arright. Lane Four, best lane, who's next?"
What stygian nightmare has enveloped Ninaza? The Ferryman dropped her at a hearth that might as well been forged from brimstone and hellfire. For a measured moment, she just stares at the handgun with the kind of wariness someone smart would view a pit viper. The thing is unnatural. So loud. Smells foul, too. Not to mention the nefarious aura that rattles her bones even before the trigger is pulled. Why, it's quite possible that the firing range might be even worse than the deck, or a machinery-heavy part of the ship.
All the same, the pistol is eventually taken, as she wishes to avoid further disciplinary actions, for teaching her how to shoot has been its own ordeal. Cautiously making her way to Lane Four, for all intents and purposes it looks as though she were trying her best to avoid being torn to shreds whilst navigating a den full of sleeping wolves that might wake-up for a midnight snack. The apprehension is evident, as is her revulsion, judging by how she's holding the weapon. Without really looking at the observer, the woman issues a respectful nod and then just kind of stands there, intently regarding the target until someone starts nagging her to get on with it, already.
"Fifty-seven," the Marine at 4 notes, opening the drawers just below the waist level desk-slash-barrier the shooter stands at. "Figured you'd get one of those." There's a certain tension to her: Something like bridge cables, really. Since somebody somewhere decided guns and alcohol just don't mix, Dorian is left with conversation to try and ease that stiffness. "At least it's light, right?" he asks, pointing to the rounded polymer contraption in her hands.
One could almost imagine her ears twitching, akin to a fox, at the sound of a known voice. The intensity of that regard doesn't lessen when targets are swapped, the Marine now dead-center of the proverbial crosshairs. Although the medic is somewhat relieved to see Panda's face, it really is of little comfort. At least she doesn't look as though she's going to suffer a panic attack, like in the Raptor. "Pandorian Ajtai." Pahn-doh-ree-ahn Ahj-tye. Even when raising her voice to be heard over the din, there is a softness to it. As the man points at the gun, Ninaza's green eyes flit downward. Faintly, she shakes her head. "In the hands, perhaps. The weight upon the soul is most heavy."
The way she says his name finds Panda with his eyes closed momentarily, a brief mental image of babbling brooks bubbling over well rounded stones. "Right, well!" It's a gasped sound, like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and the younger Ajtai delves into the next drawer down for a box of ammo. "That, uh, they always said - we all feel that," he asides with a shrug, mind clearly working faster than his lips. "But y'know, they always said that's the life of the man you're gonna take with it. Er…" He points back and forth, slowly sorting it out. "The man whose life, no, wait, the… the life, the one you're gonna take, from…" Suddenly, hands are waving. "Look, maybe I didn't say every single tiny little syllable, but basically, the idea is: sooner or later somebody's gonna die on the other end of that thing, so let's keep the safety on and make sure it's not by accident, 'kay?"
Panda's minor freak-out garners nothing more than a faint furrowing on Ninaza's brow; his words, however, truly bring her pensiveness to the fore. "Light, it seems, that lives will be taken. It is so…" What is the word? "…impersonal. Unnatural." Contemplating the gun, she muses, "Squeeze. Kill. Need not look in the eyes, nor hear the breath, or feel life pulsate against one's hands until it pulses no more."
"You kidding me?" That's something he can grab onto. "Shit, go ahead and try hittin' anything outside a good ten feet, max, with that thing. In a real fight, not this range crap." Panda presses his thumb to the side of his nose. "Pistol's a weapon of last resort, and, y'know, seriously?" He makes a two-fingered pistol and puts it to his temple. "That's the resort. This shit? This shit right here?" The Marine waves at the pistol, the ammo, the scorecard. "This is just to make sure you know it's not just a game." He chuffs a little chuckle, looking aside. "And, y'know, I think it's kinda so us M'rines can show off. Arright, load the magazine, five rounds."
A wee bit confused by the question, she asserts, "I kid not." As much a universal truth as it is pertaining specifically to what she just said. "A real fight," Miss Wilderness asserts, "uses not such things. This…" the gun is vaguely rocked in her hands, "is mechanical killing." Not a real fight. "Effective, yes, but at what cost? I crush your throat, I feel you fight. There is value. You show me what your life is worth. I shoot you… perhaps I consider those you leave behind. Their loss, their grief. Most do not, yes? They shoot. They hit. They kill. It is done. Often blindly. This demonstrates value how?" Despite this espousing, Ninaza inserts the cartridge. The safety, however, remains on.
Panda follows, nodding lightly at each step. "Yeah," he says softly, lost below the rattle of gunfire… which seems a lot softer than on the battlefield. "That's how a man kills, yeah. In close, where it's muscle, guts, and luck." He hands over the bullets; unnecessary, but the rhythm keeps his hands busy as she loads them one by one. There's a sigh, and that low wistful tone is traded for a plaintive groan with the provision of the last round. "And then some fraktard had to go and shoot someone with a bow. Screwed things up for humanity ever since, eh?" His cocked smirk can only half hide the sincere disappointment in the man's drooping eyes.
"Fraktard?" Evidently, not one of the words she was taught. "The bow… it is not so bad. Strength is still needed. Timing. It is not 'bangbangbang'. One does not shoot blindly. One needs patience. Still, it is not real fighting. Good to hunt, though." That said, Ninaza just looks at Pandorian, waiting to be told to start making with the 'bangbangbang'.
"Same damn thing," he insists. "If it's too fast for you, use a spear and a horse." There's a little smirk as he steps out of the booth to give her space (and avoid hot, spent casings). "Or maybe I'm just bitter I never could get the hang of shooting a bow on horseback. Alright, familiarization. Five rounds, your pace. When your done, safety the weapon and hold it up. Ah! Right," Panda notes, tugging a pair of padded earmuffs from his belt and holding them out. "Here you go."
"On horseback? To shoot while riding?" No, that does not strike her as sensible. Not at all. Her expression conveys such. Setting down the pistol — safety still on — she bows her head in thank you, takes the muffs, and puts them on. That done, the gun is retrieved, the safety removed, a deep breath of resignation is breathed, and aim is reluctantly taken. Disquiet and disgust then contorts her face, but the trigger is pulled. Once.
"Yeah, father used to. Little steppe bow," Panda notes, standing behind the shooter in lane 4. There are a lot of fleet sorts and recruits here, shooting and waiting to shoot. Must be qualifications coming up. Ninaza's little pistol adds to the popping sounds on the range (they're quite a bit more high-pitched than filmmakers would have you believe). With jaw still hanging open to handle the noise, Panda waits patiently for a few moments. "Hey, uh," he murmurs, leaning in from behind her. "You see that long line running down the ceiling from right above your lane? And the little metal panel hanging down from there that sorta looks like a man without any arms?" he hints.
Just coming in the door, Marissa takes a moment to snatch hearing muffs from the wall and slip them on. This is no place to be without hearing protection, especially when you depend on your ears a lot. Makeshift range bag in hand, she strolls down the line, slipping on protective glasses with the casual air of a tourist on the beach.
At least until she comes to the stall occupied by Panda and Ninaza. "Hey, Marine! Giving lessons now?" she calls cheerily, giving him a smile. His stallmate gets a smile as well. "Who's your friend?"
"Makine i turpshem," is muttered under her breath. For the viewers at home, that would be 'vile machine' in her dialect of Kashmiri. As Pandorian draws much closer, the scent of faintly sweet spice would greet his nose. Since her attention is on the target — and because it's so frakkin' loud — Ninaza doesn't notice Marissa and really won't until she notices that Ajtai notices. Instead, her expression grows more grim and the trigger is again squeezed.
"Hey youu!" Panda laughs, spinning around to beam at Mimi. "Uh, you, sir, right?" He laughs a bit nervously, though it's hidden by the crack of the pistol. "Yeah, gave up a down shift to deal with the overflow here. I get my choice of patrols or guard duties the next two shifts, so…" The Marine shrugs, then glances over his shoulder to tap Ninaza on hers. "Hey, brass is here," he notes, tugging at the woman's uniform if she doesn't catch on what that means. Her nice, centre-mass shot? She's totally the only one who saw it, and the shockwaves of nearby rounds impacting their targets is slowly wearing the smudge away. Poor thing.
"Just Mimi or Mouse is fine, ya know!" the southern Aquarian calls back, laughing. "And yeah, technically I'm an Ensign, but feel free to talk to me like I'm a real girl," she adds, nodding to direct the words to Ninaza. She takes the stall next to theirs, setting her bag down. "Let me know if I can help?"
The tapping and tugging get Ninaza's attention, although she doesn't quite get what Panda said. Cue confuzled furrowing of brow. Oh, but wait! Someone else is here! A polite nod is offered to the other woman, as is a small but not unpleasant smile. For a moment, the medic is uncertain if Marissa is actually going to use Lane Four, too, and an inquiring glance is cast towards the Marine. The question is answered, however, when the pilot sets-up shop next door.
"Heh, right, Miss Mouse, that's new," Panda notes, and for a moment the corners of his lips and eyes pinch with mischief. "Hey so, uh, Mimi, this is my new friend, Ninaza Eir." Pronounced, according to him, N-naza Air. "Miss Eir, this here's Marissa Delann. Most people call her Mimi, I call 'er Miss Miss because…" That finally brings a pause to his words. "Huh. I dunno why," Panda shrugs. "Just do."
"Blame Captain Legacy. She came up with it," Mimi replies, not losing her smile. It's not the worst callsign she's ever heard. She slips her Dragon from the range bag and nods in friendly acknowledgement to Ninaza. "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Eir!"
Ninaza doesn't correct Pandorian's mispronunciation of her name. After all, she kinda butchers his. And since Marissa is addressing her as Miss Eir, it seems only logical (to her, anyway) to reply in kind, with another polite nod, "Greetings, Miss Mouse." Due to her accent, the vowels all sound a bit clipped, which is a somewhat odd contrast to the soft-spoken quality of her voice.
Panda flashes a grin back and forth between the two, then runs a hand through his hair. "Arright, awesome." 'You're not killing each other,' he mentally adds for reasons his consciousness can't quite sort out. The range master blows a whistle, the sharp shrill note crashing through the noise. "Shit, hey look, Mimi," Dorian grunts, jerking his head toward Ninaza. "Could you… ?" the Marine asks, but like the others working the range he's already heading over to see what the range master wants.
Mimi's smile widens. "You have an interesting way of talking. But it's Miss Mimi… or just Mimi is fine, too," she replies. "Mouse is my callsign." Panda's sudden departure and unfinished request leave her gawking after him for a moment. She clears her throat a little uncomfortably, glancing at the range master, and turns back to Ninaza, summoning another smile. "Need any help? I'm not the instructor Panda is, but I know a little."
Eir is the proverbial fish out of water. Such a far cry from her beloved wilderness is the battlestar, and the firing range is particularly abhorrent. When Panda starts departing, those green eyes of hers widen a tad, as if he just abandoned her to a pack of peckish jackals. Concerned, she looks to Mimi, a silent question of 'is he returning?' posed. Already uncomfortable in this environment, the ill-ease increases with the absence of Ajtai. She's being asked a question, though. "I…" A small frown forms. "I must shoot." Which she obviously loathes. Even so, she nods a little, because she certainly needs all the help she can get. "Please. Thank you."
Mimi's gaze turns thoughtful, seeing the taller woman's discomfort with the idea of shooting. "It's nothing to be bothered by," she says supportively. "Just a hoop to jump through. I'll try to make it easier." She closes her range bag and relocates, slipping in beside Eir. "The Picon Five-SeveN isn't my favorite piece, but it's what we're all required to carry." She nods and points downrange. "Just aim it down that way. I want to see how you hold it," she says, keeping her tone light so as not to make Eir any more nervous with this whole matter.
Ninaza holds it like one would a King Cobra — very carefully, with an understanding of how dangerous it is. The only difference is that a snake would not inspire revulsion. She may respect the power of the pistol, but she rather despises the device. Faintly nodding, the medic acquiesces to the request and subsequently takes aim. The trigger is not yet pulled.
Mimi looks closely… then reaches up and squeezes Ninaza's hands gently, to tighten her grip on the weapon a bit. "Too loose and you'll lose your grip," she says, just loud enough to be heard. "Think of the barrel like your finger… you've never pointed /it/ at the wrong thing, right? Point the weapon just the same way." She moves on. "Now, aim carefully and take a breath. Hold it while you squeeze the trigger…"
Already tense from anxiety, being touched seems to make the brunette even more taut. Although she does not recoil or flinch, it might be evident that she's unaccustomed to people being in her personal space. Undeterred, those green eyes of hers narrow in concentration, intently regarding the target. A breath is taken and then held whilst the bullet is given permission to discharge.
Mimi winces faintly, seeing no new holes appear in Ninaza's target. That new one in the empty lane beside her, however (/her/ lane), does catch her attention. "Well, /that/ Toaster will never play the piano again. But you need to deal with his buddy in front of you. So set your grip, aim…" Abruptly, she steps back, and suddenly Ninaza can feel hands on her shoulders, massaging carefully. "And /relax/… you're tying yourself in knots, and that's bad for almost everything."
"Hey, alright, listen up," Panda announces, jogging up to the lane. "Last call, finish your mags and sign the guns back in." Something similar is being told to the other ranges, and the groan of mixed disappointment and relief from those waiting to shoot drowns out the echo of whatever they were told. "Range daddy wants to get a GI party done before the end of the shift." The young man rolls his eyes, head shaking at the idea.
Poor Marissa. She's trying so hard to be helpful, but her massaging is not inducing relaxation. Already on-edge, suddenly and unexpectedly being touched by a stranger without seeing it coming instead spooks the brunette, and the trigger is subsequently pulled. Just in time for Panda's return.
Mimi feels those knots under her hands turn to rocks too late. BKAM! She winces and stands on tiptoe to peek over Ninaza's shoulder. Wow. Right through the visor. "Actually, that was a great shot," she says. "Nice work! Now you just have to figure out how to do it again… um, sorry… I guess you don't much like being touched…"
Panda's return comes just in time. "I think we're almost done here," she says, trying to sound confident, but her smile looks just a touch nervous.
The realization of what he saw first will kick in later; it would have already, but that's a pretty impressive hit. "Uh. Damn." Pandorian runs a hand through his hair, then dips his chin in an appreciative nod. "Yeah, that's, that's pretty much, uh, pretty much awesome." The Marine looks between Mimi and Ninaza, both concerned and impressed.
When the pilot apologizes, the healer turns to regard the other woman, her own expression somewhat apologetic. She is aware that Marissa meant no harm, but she's particular about her personal space for reasons she does not share. A gentle shake of her head is her silent confirmation, her demeanor that of mild consternation mingled with something vaguely saddened. Upon the Marine's return, it somewhat dissipates. "Pandorian." Pahn-doh-ree-ahn. And then a nod is added to what Mimi said. "One remains." Bullet, that is.
"One bullet… make it a good one," Mimi encourages, stepping back a little and grinning at Panda's look at her, giving him a teasing 'what did I do /now/?' look. She seems to enjoy consternating the big grunt, even if it's mostly harmless.
"Wow, time flies when you're fighting dirty, huh?" Ajtai teases. "So listen…" And if she does, she'll hear some rapid-fire shooting going on, automatic weapons and single shots at speed as people try to make the most of their shortened opportunity. He leans close, a hand lightly resting on the small of Mimi's back for a moment. Just to get his balance? It's possible. "I know there's a lotta shit going on around you. Forget about it. Just relax. Take a deep breath, line up your sights, let it out halfway, adjust and fire. Easy as pie, right?"
True enough, Ninaza could have gone through the cartridge like a Marine goes through a pack of cigarettes, but just making with the 'bangbangbang' won't necessarily make her a better shot. And for all she detests guns and it being mandatory being to learn how to use one, the sooner she passes qualification, the sooner she's no longer required to be here so frakkin' much. So, now it's down to the final bullet of the day. Lining up the shot, she draws a breath and then draws the trigger.
Mimi elbows Panda lightly, and watches the shot. BKAM!
Wow. She has no idea where that shot went. But she's not looking for it, seeing blood on Ninaza's hand. "Miss Eir!" she cries, dismayed. "You've been cut!" It's true. The gun's slide, recoiling from the shot, caught the web of skin between Ninaza's thumb and forefinger and opened a nasty gash. It's known to happen sometimes with a too-loose grip. Mimi doesn't hesitate, darting into her abandoned shooting stall for her range bag, and the first aid kit inside it.
Panda was, watching that is, and it's telling that he ducks down a fraction of a second after the shot goes off. Marissa's exclamation doesn't help: No, after seeing the spark of ricochet off the near overhead rails, Dorian is cursing under his breath and pushing into the stall with Ninaza. "Hey, what happened?!" he snaps, urgency inadvertently hardening the concern in his voice into anger.
In reaction to the sudden sting of her violated flesh, the gun is instinctively dropped when the dark honey haired woman grasps her injured hand with the unscathed one. Thank the Gods that the last bullet was fired because the safety is off. "Nene e madhe!" is cried out, pained, followed more angrily with, "Makine i turpshem!" Ninaza's usually pensive countenance twists into a grimace, although it probably can't be seen with how she is quasi-steamrolled by Pandorian. Hello, stall wall. At least she has some small vindication: THE WEAPON IS WICKED! LOOK WHAT IT DID!
Mimi's back in just a second. "Miss Eir, could you let me see your… Panda, I think you're squishing her," she amends hastily, blinking at the sight of the big Marine squeezed into the stall with the small medic. "Panda, is there a sink any closer than the heads? We need to find a sink and clean this cut," she says, her rudimentary EMT training taking over.
The Marine pushes back against the opposite side as Ninaza, looking her over while the woman hisses and clenches her hand. Suddenly, he deflates, noting a lack of darkening anywhere on Ninaza's clothing and Mimi's tone being one that isn't over-controlled. "Ohhhh," he chuckles, blushing a bit as he shifts out of the booth. "Yeah, we've got the eye-wash station," Panda sighs, waving them over to the end of the range where he walks to. "That dog bites, huh?"
There's no shortage of blood, but it's not coming from anywhere too damning. Still, an injured hand rather sucks for a medic. Then again, it would suck for pretty much anyone else on the ship, save maybe those slackers in CIC. There's an onset of tears at the corner of her eyes, and the harsh whisper of Kashmiri invectives. Finally getting around to viewing the injury, Ninaza is most displeased, to state an understatement. Even as she lets Marissa take a look, she's starting to make her way towards the sink.
Someone might want to retrieve the gun on the floor, though, because she's more likely to stomp on the frakkin' thing.
"That'll work. I've got a little emergency soap and alcohol, so we're in good shape for cleaning," Mimi says hurriedly, pausing to scoop up the fallen gun before she follows them. She slips it into a pocket… which could cause problems later, as it's too heavy for her sweats to hold for long, but at least it's out of the way for now. "You'll be okay, Miss Eir. I'm good with treating injuries. Just… don't growl? My feelings bruise easily," she says, trying to soften the mood with a little self-deprecating humor. "Right under there." She uncaps the fountain's heads and steps on the pedal, making the station spurt water up a few inches and down into its bowl.
"Come on over," Panda encourages, having mixed successes with stifling his chuckle. He watches Ninaza approach, looking her up and down to make sure there are no other injuries. One can never be too sure. Yes, that's a guilty sudden-look-away he does when Mimi's eyes find him. "She'll be fine," the man sighs good-naturedly to the Ensign, then bounces on his toes. "You'll be fine. Happens to all of us." It might be reassuring if he didn't snicker after saying that.
By the time they've reached the sink, Ninaza has grown quiet apart from sharp breathing. Going about the task of cleaning the cut — she is a healer-slash-medic, after all — her brow is deeply knitted, fair-skin somewhat flushed, and lips tightly drawn together. The Marine's chuckle and snicker do not appear to be noticed. In truth, the woman is too preoccupied with washing the wound and with combating the thoughts and feelings that have prompted the tears that she is mostly successful in containing.
Treating this doesn't take long. Ninaza seems good with this sort of thing, and Mimi's had plenty of practice. She tries to ignore Panda, as he's not being very helpful, but she's not entirely successful, giving him a stern mock-glare to tell him to pipe down. "S'not big… a couple stick-on bandages and it'll be covered up fine," she says, carefully blotting Ninaza's hand dry. By the injured woman's face, this is hurting enough… unless those tears are for something else, which seems likely. Now's not a good time to ask. "Wish half the people I pulled out of the drink back on Aquaria'd been half as brave as you, Miss Eir," she adds, trying to be comforting. Even pros need a bolster now and then.
Panda bites his lower lip and pulls them into a tight grimace as if to keep his feet from entering. The Marine drifts off, heading back down the lanes. They're all glanced into, but four is searched outright, a few drawers being pulled out and pushed back in. To make the rest of his evening easier and to give them some 'girl time,' Dorian polices the spent brass from there, too… after making sure the ammo box is only five shots lower than it started.
If more than five bullets are missing, Eir certainly doesn't have them. "Thank you," she murmurs to Mimi, head bowed in appreciation for the aid. With the uninjured hand, she swiftly wipes away what tears there may be and starts looking about for where the emergency medkit is stored. True, the injury stings, but her expression and demeanor is less that of physical pain than that of feeling emotionally gutted. Why that is, however, is not revealed.
"Here," Mimi says, seeing Eir turn away. She holds up a couple of adhesive bandages. "I keep a few in my bag for the booboos I used to get here. Not so much anymore, but I guess they finally came in handy again." She looks to Panda and waves. "Just about done here, Panda!" She has only the ammo she signed out, and it was never fired.
Panda returns, a look of concern on his face. "Hey, awesome, great, look…" He comes up close before saying anything more, so as to keep his voice down. "You don't happen to know what happened to the pistol, do ya?" he asks, face tense and eyes darting.
Another thankful bow of her head is given Marissa in exchange for the bandages. With a swift precision, Ninaza applies them. When Panda returns and asks about the gun, she quietly replies, "It fell."
"Hmm… you don't work in medical, do you? You seem to know a lot about injuries," Mimi starts to ask. Panda's question clips off that question before it can really be answered, though. "The gun? What gun?" She turns to look. "I brought my own, and Miss Eir's should be…"
SSSSSSSH-*CLUNK* Forget something?
The dark-haired Ensign squeaks in surprise as she feels something sliding down her legs, and blushes when she sees that its her overburdened sweatpants, now around her ankles. "Oh… /that/ gun. I forgot; I picked it up so nobody'd trip over it." She stoops to retrieve it.
"Ah… hah…" Panda blinks. He shifts to the side, ostensibly to keep people from oggling Mimi. Well, people who aren't him, apparently. "Looks comfy." Grinning wide, the man starts to crouch down - though it's only playful, stopping before he does more than stoop.
Finishing with the first aid, the brunette nods about working in medical. Lifting her head to regard the pilot, she was about to say something. Whatever that might have been never manifests. Instead, she peers at the depantsed Mimi, and then blinks twice in an unintentionally comedic manner. An incorrect conclusion is drawn based on the other woman's question. "You are in need of an examination?" Why else would Marissa make such an inquiry and then drop her sweats. "Such should be done in medbay."
Mimi playfully reaches back over her hip and flips a hand wildly at Panda. "Down, boy!" she says, finding the gun and straightening to hand it back to him. Such is a risk of dealing with taller people. Now for… A misunderstanding? Mimi blushes at the question. "M-me? An exam? Oh, no! I j-just w-w-wanted t-t-t-to know if y-you worked there," she stammers, hurriedly stooping to collect her pants.
"Arf, arf," Panda says in an odd form of deadpan enthusing. He's got a cocky grin, though his hands are all business in taking and clearing the pistol. The man holds it with his trigger finger resting on the guard, enjoying the show that makes the corners of his lips hurt the more the both of them talk.
If her expression is any indication, Ninaza mentally debates whether or not she should inquire as to why Mimi's pants were around the ankles if not for an exam. After a moment, she decides to not ask, although her curiosity would be evident. Instead, she simply replies, "I do." Work in medical, that is. And then those green eyes shift towards the barking Panda, followed with a quizzical canting of her head.
Mimi just fixes her wardrobe malfunction. "Last time I ever put a gun in my pocket. Too embarrassing," she murmurs, tying the drawstring tighter. "So, you work in Medical… are you a nurse? You look a little young for a doctor. And… is there something I can call you besides Miss Eir? It's kind of impersonal."
"That's a doggie sound," Dorian mumbles, shifting nervously from foot to foot. "It's, uh, 'cause, I mean, I was staring, and…" With the empty hand he gestures at Marissa, then quickly tugs that hand back. "I mean, not that there's nothing to stare at. You either!" he hurriedly mutters, yet turns his eyes away from both of them. "We could all, just, y'know, go pantsless, no complaints. I mean from others. Or me or…" Shuffling a step back Panda decides, "I'll shut up now."
Nurse? No. "I am one of the Deionei." Not that the pilot of the Marine would have any idea what that means. "My medicine, I am not permitted to use. It is as a medic I must heal." Which somewhat rankles her. To the other question, Ninaza replies, "They," presumably her colleagues, "call me Eir." Which she pronounces as AY-er but, really, everyone else pretty much says 'air'. "Or Crewman, or medic." Never mind that all of those are as impersonal, if not more so, than Miss Eir. Oh, but Panda's talking and not making sense. The confused look he receives is one that surely is familiar by now. "Then why do some tell others to put on pants in the berthing?" That taking of things literally should also come as no surprise to Ajtai.
Deionei? Mimi's heard the word, sure… "I'm not sure what that is," she murmurs, embarrassed. "Do you have a first name, though? Marissa's mine, though I really prefer Mimi." Panda's explanation draws a smile, which only grows when Miss Eir asks her question. She manages not to giggle, but looks almost conspiratorially to Panda. "I like her. She's cute and interesting. Though I don't think I'll be taking off my pants again unless it's back in my quarters…"
Panda can recover quite quickly under the right conditions (just ask Mimi), like when the right question is asked. "Jealousy," he declares, then appends a quick, shrugged, "Or arousal." Letting the two exchange their greetings the man just mouths 'I get both' in an overanimated fashion. Smiling brightly, when he's addressed he nods in agreement. Looking Ninaza up and down he notes, "Ninaza's nice, I mean, name and girl, but as a name it's very… important-sounding. She needs something less intimidating…" Thumb and forefinger stroke an invisible beard on his chin. "Ninsy?"
"Most do not," know who the Deionei are. It's a uniquely Saggie thing, often considered legend more than anything. "Priestesses, we are, of the Great Mother and the Chthonic Queen." Yes, she knows the word chthonic but has no idea what fraktard means, especially since Panda never did tell her. His explanation about the pants prompts another question. "Why jealousy?" As for her name, "It is an honored name. One of my ancestors." Wait… hold on, there. "Ninsy?" If she weren't so confused, she might be appalled.
Mimi really does try not to giggle, but… Ninsy? She claps both hands over her mouth until she can open it without giving forth a spurt of rude laughter. "I'm so sorry, Ninaza. I like your name, but he spit out something funny. And some people do get jealous of others' attributes when they're showing." She finds her bag again. "I should turn in these bullets, but could we talk about the Great Mother and the… Cathartic Queen sometime?" She definitely /doesn't/ know the word Chthonic. "I'd love to learn about them." Panda gets a nudge with her heel and a tolerant, if fond, smile. "Ninsy… keep practicing."
Yeah, awesome, just in time to find out he's shortened and diminished something the exotic woman treasures. "Wull, I thought it was cute," Panda pouts in a surly mumble. Mimi's nudge gets a mopey, "Aye-aye," though he's smirking; it's all in good fun.
"Funny?" No, she doesn't understand. Granted, she probably doesn't realize that 'Ninsy' is the unwanted bastard spawn of her name. If that's not enough, she doesn't quite follow other things, seeing how she adds, "Attributes?" Language barriers are a bitch. Factor in she's not certain she heard correctly when Marissa said 'cathartic' and not 'chthonic'. Now really isn't the time to get into it, especially since she's kinda busy being somewhat stunned that someone is curious about her faith. Still, the interest inspires a gentle but genuine smile that carries to her verdant green eyes. "If it pleases you to learn, it pleases me to teach." As it's evident that the pilot is departing, the healer presses her hands together in a mudra, bowing her head. "May you remain well, Miss Mimi." And then that leaves Panda… and yet another question for him. "What is it that you must practice? Ninsy?" Seriously, she has no frakking idea what 'Ninsy' means, which might be for the best, really.
The southern Aquarian grins at Panda. "Take care, meathead," she says fondly. "I'll try and stop by here another time, if they're not running me ragged." She has to smile at that question. "I'll explain sometime," Mimi promises. "Fair winds and following seas, Ninaza!" And she hurries off with a quick wave over her shoulder. Definitely a day for her journal.
"Sweet dreams, Sir," Pandorian teases back, ducking instinctively from a hair-ruffling. He smiles at Ninaza, Mimi's back, and the Sagittaron again. "Hey, uh, I'd love to stick around and flirt, but we gotta clean this place up. So, uh… sorry 'bout the hand," Panda shrugs, then gets an idea. "I'll tell you 'bout how that practice went next time I see ya, yeah?"
"Flirt?" Another unfamiliar word? GAWDS. What tree did she fall out of? Or was it that she crawled out from under a rock? When the hand is mentioned, her gaze drops to regard it. Softly, she musingly 'mmms' before looking back at Panda. "Next time…" Faintly, she nods, but the acuity with which she regards the Marine notes that she expects answers to her question then, too. And then there is the mudra and bowing of her head. "May you remain well, Pandorian Ajtai." Yes, still butchered. Ninaza doesn't linger, however. Not with how she's been wanting to leave the firing range since even before she arrived.
