| Frakkin' Frakkity Frak |
| Summary: | Frakkin' Reverie is frakkin' obsessed about who the frak is frakkin' who. |
| Date: | PHD #287 (Jan 31, 2010) |
| Related Logs: | The Truth Hurts happens some time later. |
| Players: |
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| Silver and Black Berthing - Deck 12 - BS Hestia |
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| IC Time: Post Holocaust Day #287 — OOC Time: Sun Jan 31 01:07:17 2010 |
| Berthing is really one long hallway that leads back to the Central hub, with little pods off each side. Each 'pod' holds sixteen bunks that are inset directly into the bulkhead which gives a modicum of privacy when the grey curtains are closed. A three rung ladder is affixed to the metal casing separating top and bottom bunks, giving access to the former. Every unit has a small shelf at the foot of the bed, as well as individual reading lights. Towels, blankets, sheets, and pillow cases are all in that same drab grey color which makes them indistinguishable from each other when they come back from laundry. Lockers are between each set of bunks marked by louvered metal doors with combination locks, providing additional storage for the service members. In the central space of each pod, the sixteen bunks share a long metal table and chairs. All the bunks are merely labelled with a strip of masking tape with the crewman's name written in black marker. |
| Condition Level: 3 - All Clear |
"Exile's never really burned up the sky as far as I can tell. Course, he used to fly with Poet back on the Kharon, and Poet was the SL then so I really haven't seen him do much…" Absalom replies to Reverie. He's sitting on her bunk, attempting not to look too much like a letch as he leans towards her slightly. "But, Raptor versus Viper is shameful."
"Combat simulations are based purely on physics. I got my degree in physics and would've gone to grad school if I didn't need to go on my first tour of duty. He just didn't think of trajectories. I anticipated his movements and I beat him with brains, not fancy flying." Reverie says with a wry grin before tapping at her temples.
"Beat whose brains, what?" That would be a groggy Ambrose asking from within his own bunk, having sorta heard what was going on whilst passing through Dreamland and back into the waking world.
Absalom shakes his head, "Next time you're up for it, come find me. I'll teach you how its done." He says, reaching out to pat Reverie lightly on the knee, before he looks over at Ambrose's bunk.
"I'm up for it anytime." Reverie replies with a bright smile as she too peers towards Ambrose's bunk. "Don't worry about it. Just go back to sleep. Sorry if we were too loud." she says with a slight meep apologetically.
"I gueeeeess," he begins, the word fading into a yawn, "they weren't the brightest of brains, if you're telling me not to worry." With as much of a stretch as he can muster with that cast and sling, Smalls then draws back his curtain, those blue eyes of his momentarily squinting at the onset of light. "Nah. You're not too loud," is said, his good arm moving so he can rub the back of his head, which causes his already messy shock of red hair to become messier. "And I've slept enough. What's up? Other than us, that is." Seeing who else is there, he flicks his chin upwards, in greeting. "Shadow."
"Anything else you're up for anytime, aside from chocolate icecream sundaes?" Absalom asks, grinning a bit. He then nods to Ambrose and replies, "Smalls," simply enough. The man shrugs a little and says, "We were discussing the chaos of the military, and chocolate. I believe."
"You'll have to find that out another time." she tells Absalom with a smirk before she looks back towards Ambrose. "And there's not much going on. Just chit chatting. How are you feeling?" Reverie asks him.
Mmm. "Chocolate's good. Especially chocolate cake. Mmm. Gemenese chocolate cake…" Sol gets a dreamy look in his eyes, momentarily staring off into space and frolicking in a delicious memory. The lopsided smile lingers, even after his attention returns to the here and now. "Chaos, huh? I always found military life to be pretty orderly, what with all the orders an' all." Despite sitting upright, he doesn't look inclined to yet leave his bed. "Eh, shoulder is kinda sore from the cast, an' it's gettin' hella itchy in there. Oh, and being grounded totally sucks. Apart from that and some other crap, I suppose I'm feeling ok. I mean, I'm alive. That's the important bit, right? Although, seriously, being grounded totally sucks." Totally. "How 'bout you an' your noggin'?" That last is for Reverie.
"I'll remember that, unless the Moraleslut catches me first." Absalom replies, grinning just a bit — perhaps at the vernacular he uses — before he turns his attention to the meandering talk of Ambrose. "Err, right. How long til the cast comes off?" he asks.
"I don't need the cane anymore." Reverie chirps happily. "I think I've got my sense of balance back completely. So much that I've been kicking ass in the sims." she says before eyeing Absalom for a few moments. "Trying to imply something, Lieutenant?" she asks Absalom while peering at him curiously.
"Too long," Smalls frowns. "Who knew bones take so long to frakkin' heal?" Those blue eyes of his roll and he groans, "That's not even taking into account all the physical therapy." He's not going to be backseating any time soon, much to his dismay. "I swear, next time, I'll have to get shot in the chest or somethin'." More upbeat, he adds to the other ECO, "That's great! Glad to hear you're feelin' better. And, uh, I think he's trying to imply that Mooner's a slut."
"I am implying that I occasionally lose my mind when alcohol and lose women are around." Absalom says in a slightly absent tone. He then turns his attention slowly to Ambrose, "Or, that. Though, I didn't think that was really news around the ship."
"I think all you pilot sorts do. That's what happened with Harrison and Eddie anyway. That's what he tells me. She frakked him, not the other way around." Reverie says with a soft sigh under her breath. It's clear she doesn't like the woman. "And talk about penis envy, she has it so bad she wants one in her at all times." shequips, letting out a hearty laugh.
If he were a pilot and not an ECO, perhaps Ambrose would protest against the stereotype. Instead, the frown returns. "Hey, lay off Eddie, Tycho. What the frak do you care who she fraks, unless you're pissed off she isn't frakkin' you? And if you actually believe any of the crap comin' outta that asshole," said asshole presumably being Harrison, "then you should get another MRI 'cuz you've obviously suffered brain damage." Who knew that sweet Smalls could be so snappish?
Absalom grins just a little bit and comments at the snapping from Ambrose, "Yeah, it does take two to frak y'know. Harrison probably got as much as he gave in that exchange." He tries to keep from laughing at the penis envy quip, and, only succeeds in keeping them to low chuckles.
"Cause Iggy was pissed off about it. That's how I knew. And she moved onto Dak immediately afterwards." Reverie sas, keeping her cool as she shrugs her shoulders once more. No need to get defensive in her mind as she looks back towards Absalom. "Which is precisely what I told him last night."
Matto arrives from the Pilot Berthings - Deck 12.
Matto has arrived.
The sourness doesn't dissipate. "So? You're not Iggy. If she wants to be pissed off, she'll be pissed off. And if she wants to keep frakkin' someone who frakked over her /and/ Mooner, that's her damn business. Not yours. And maybe Eddie moved on to Dak because she got dicked over by Exile, an' Dak certainly didn't push her away. Why the frak should that matter to you, anyhow? Aren't you frakkin' Crunch? I mean, for frak's sake, just frakkin' worry about who you're frakkin' and who the person you're frakkin' is frakkin', and frakkin' stop gettin' so frakkin' upset over what the frak is goin' on with frakkin' everyone else an' who they're frakkin'." That frakkin' said, Smalls has scooted off the mattress and onto his socked feet. "I mean, seriously. Grow the frak up."
"Control to Smalls, dial it back a notch there." Absalom says in a dry tone, though, at the mention of who Reverie might or might not be fraking, he gives her a sidelong glance. He is sitting on Reverie's bunk, where she is laying. Ambrose is atop his bunk yet, having apparently just woke up
Iggy arrives from the Pilot Berthings - Deck 12.
Iggy has arrived.
Matto shuffles on into his pod, something vaguely reassuring about hearing nothing but his backseater blathering on and on about gods-know-what and people trying to get him to quiet down. Some normalcy about the situation that almost lets him forget about the bile rising in his throat. He moves to his locker without interrupting anyone or his/her frakking, just shucking off the end of his flight suit and folding it up to put away.
Just behind Matto is Iggy, dressed for bed, carrying, of all things, a book. She's moving fairly quietly as well.
<OOC> Ambrose wonders if his venom killed Rev…
<OOC> Absalom is guessing, yes.
<OOC> Ambrose is a bad man. No cookie for him.
<OOC> Matto milks Ambrose to make an antivenom.
<OOC> Reverie steps out for a breath of fresh air and takes a break from RP.
Reverie has left.
<OOC> Iggy says, "Anyone posing would be good. :)"
<OOC> Ambrose hmmms.
<OOC> Ambrose guesses he can pose.
<OOC> Matto just posed before Iggy. Could pose again :)
<OOC> Ambrose is writing a pose.
<OOC> Matto waits on :)
"Whatever." That might Smalls' reply to Shadow. What is for certain is that he doesn't give Tycho the chance to say something before he mutters, "I'm hittin' the head." He does, however, retrieve his boots, which were resting atop his footlocker, suggesting that he doesn't plan on returning any time soon. Still in his socked feet and off-duty duds — for he's gotten into the habit of sleeping in them ever since his left arm has been imprisoned in that long cast — he not-quite storms towards the hatch, visibly irritated and not seeming to notice the new arrivals.
Absalom looks down at the suddenly reticent Reverie, and stands slowly from her bunk, "And, with that..I think I gotta get off to the sims myself. Unless I want to end up getting schooled by a rook like you." He then nods to Matto and Iggy as they appear, greeting each with a quiet, "Madman, Booster."
"Dude," Kissy tosses easily to Smalls on his way out, "Dudes," he amends, adding the Shadow into the group of folk covered by his blase farewell. "You alright, guy?" Kissy does wonder back toward his backseater, since something seems amiss. Not that Kiss is feeling that great, either, tonight, but there's no reason to be cold, is there? He peels off his tanks and tosses them in his laundry bag.
Iggy looks up at the sound of voices and steps aside as Smalls moves past. She only looks at him for a second before turning away. "As the frakking ship turns," she mutters, heading toward her rack.
Sol doesn't even look at Booster. Maybe he doesn't even see her because his head turns the other way when he tells Kissy, "Other than being knocked outta the sky?" Yeah, he is in a bad mood, which is something of a 'wtf?' moment for anyone who's known him long enough, being how he is ordinarily so good natured. Still, Matto is a nice guy and the ECO's ire isn't intended for the pilot, so he adds less crossly, "Not really, no." By the time he's again watching where he's going, Iggy's already passed by. With that, he's using his good arm to get the hatch open, and then is out the door.
<Air-Wing> "Smalls" Ambrose pokes Reverie's corpse with a stick.
<Air-Wing> "Surgeon" Logan says, "Get a sharper one!"
<Air-Wing> Tusculani says, "A laser-guided stick."
<Air-Wing> "Shadow" Absalom says, "Why are we murdering the ghost of Reverie?"
<Air-Wing> "Smalls" Ambrose says, "No, sharks with lasers."
<Air-Wing> "Smalls" Ambrose says, "With that, I sleep. Ciao."
