| Harry Giggles |
| Summary: | Rian, Cinder and Kai get their drink on. |
| Date: | PHD 283 (26/01/10) |
| Related Logs: | None |
| Players: |
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You can't expect a high class establishment on a ship that smells like burnt metal and leaves a greyish silty deposit on your boots as soon as you step off transport. If you set your sights low, it still leaves room for disappointment. Harry Lemon's has been spray-painted on the hatch with the same blocky stencils they use for marking cargo, leading into a low-ceilinged rectangular room that has been appropriated for recreational and inebriational means.
Furniture is sparse and piecemealed and the bar is nothing more then old empty storage crates that have been bolted together into an 'L' shape. But behind that is the gem that everyone comes here for: a jurry rigged still. Far larger then any pissant two-man operation hidden in a linen storage closet, this is a fine example of modern engineering and alcoholic distillery. Copper coils, steel drums, and glass tubing finally peter out into a nozzle that dispenses fine and (mostly) clear grain alcohol. As long as you don't mind the rust taste. Affixed to the front of the largest tank is a picture of a ruddy faced pudgy man in a shoddy wooden frame that gets toasted to several times a night. If you don't raise your glass, you damn well might get kicked out.
Tonight the bar is slow, only a few sit and quietly enjoy their drinks some in pairs some in groups, all talking hushed. The harsh burnt smell of the refinery mixes with the stench of harsh astringent liquor to make an almost nauseating smell. Rian sits at the bar, nearest bench towards the wall. Nimble hands play with the small portable boombox that normally pumps out classic rock or some similar twang. Popping a chord into her own tiny metal music player she attaches it to the speakers, with a scratch her own music kicks in. No one seems to notice or care in the change, yet as "Samson and Delilah" by Shirley Manson streams across the airways the Marine turns it up slightly, eyes closing as she listens to the tune.
Godsdamned it feels good to finally get the frak off that ship for a night off. Cinder'd heard a hell of a lot about this place, but hasn't had a chance to check it out…until tonight. When she could catch a transport from the battlestar on over to the refinery ship, she did, and now she slides on into the bar to see what all the hubub is about. Low, dim, smokey…like a lot of the places she spent the first part of her past 'career.' It's as much like home as her home ever was. First thing she does when she comes in though is look around for friendly faces and…bingo, Marine right there.
Rian sits on the stool next to the bar, leaning over so her bare shoulder rests against the cold metal wall. In her off duty garb the woman is slumped, listening to her tune in peace. A lit cigarette is in the metal tin ash tray before her, smoke ribbon-ing upwards. One hand plows through her tousled black hair, brushing half of it away from her features for a moment. The broody marine looks even more so tonight. Dark eyes glance over at the arrival of the MP.
Usually chipper-ish, Cinder doesn't frak around much tonight. She's here to drink, damnit, so that's what she sets about doing. Misery likes company though, right? So she goes on over and catches a seat next to Rian at the bar. A finger goes up to order one…the 'what' is irrelevant, since the still only churns out one sort: the shit that gets you drunk. "Hey," she says to Rian with a slight upward nod of her chin, and that's all for the moment.
The revolving door of Harry's revolves again, admitting a dark-haired, and possibly familiar member of Hestia's wing. Somewhat familiar, anyway, though few people have likely seen the CAG in snug-fitting jeans, non-regulation boots and a short sleeved tshirt. His hands are jammed into the pockets of his unbuttoned fatigue jacket, and his slight scowl probably rivals Rian's for disgruntledness. Reaching the bar, he drags out a stool two down from the dark-eyed Private with his boot, and swings into it gracelessly.
Rian turns away from the nod, looking blankly across the bar as she picks up the smoke, bringing it to her lips for a slow drag. "Hey MP, here on business or pleasure?" She speaks, turning her cheek towards the blond woman as she speaks in an unenthusiastic tone. Not waiting for the answer a smile lights up on her lips as the CAG takes a seat, "Nice digs Cap'in" she speaks a little louder as she checks Kai out from top to bottom.
"Don't let the fleet offduties fool you…I'm here to get messed up," Cinder readily admits. "Looks like you've already gotten a head start though." Cinder just shrugs and sets to drinking, raising the glass to her lips and tossing the liquid fire down like it was her job. Sure she makes some crazy faces after, but what's important is that the precious booze is deep in her belly right now. "Yeah Captain…gotta agree with her. My old CO not coming with you tonight?" she teases.
The pilot's blue eyes find Rian's after a few seconds, and his mouth pulls slightly to the scarred side in some facsimile of a smile. It's pretty paltry, really. "Just needed to feel human again for a couple of hours," he supplies quietly, with a touch of self-deprecation in his voice that's not commonly present. "Not tonight," he answers Cinder flatly, rapping his knuckles to gain the 'bartender's' attention. Which boils down to a coffee cup being filled with moonshine, and slid in front of him. Classy. "What's the occasion?" he asks.. well, one of them. Maybe both of them. It isn't clear.
Rian watches Cinder pound back the shot, a smile growing on her lips impressed with the woman's drinking speed. Fingers rise to her lips holding the smoke as she takes a long drag. Holding it in she buts out the cig only half finished. Have to conserve you know. "Good, I thought maybe that pissant Villa whined to the MP's and I was about to get zip tied," the monotone added with her lack of expression show she doesn't seem to really care. Leaning forward towards the bar she licks her lips and speaks to Kai, hexagon tags dangling from her slender neck, "the occasion is our bad ass selves! A pause, then, "sir."
"Hmmm, speak for yourself Rian…I dunno exactly why I'm here. Maybe the fact that I got a few things out in the open…and to new relationships I guess." When she says the last part, she makes sure she gets another drink, which involves waiting for the tender to get over, filling it up and all that jazz, and then she raises it in a toast to the picture on the still and all, as well as to why she's here. This time, only have the drink goes down, as she wants to savor what little bit of taste there is.
Kai looks vaguely amused as Cinder downs the shot like it was water, and comments mildly, "I have to admit, that's one thing the CMC's got us beat on. Alcohol tolerance." His eyes trace along Rian's hand to the cigarette she just butted out, and his body shifts to the side as he digs for his own pack. Of course, it's in the back pocket of his jeans, so the smokes are probably good and squashed by now. "Got someone in your life, Private?" he asks the MP casually, before sliding a bent cig between his lips and hunting for his lighter. The perceptive might spot what looks like bruising on the backs of his knuckles. Or at least a close encounter with an immovable object.
Placing her palms down on the bartop she flicks her wrist and points a single finger, every drinker has their own way of signaling Harry for another drink. He complies, sliding a shot of clear liquor to the marine at the end of the row. She toasts, tips her head back and downs the shot, face twisted in reaction to the slight burn but the liquor begins to do it's magic. "I have no idea," a laugh then as she tosses her head, shaggy hair going everywhere. A slide long glance catches the CAG's bruising, and hey she has one to match. Turning in her seat she juts her arm out in front of Cinder and shows her right knuckles to the man, "we're samers."
"Ugh, gods, don't knock me off my frakkin' seat!" Cinder squawks. Because Rian's arm is sorta in the way for her to conveniently get at her drink, she decides to help the other woman out…by taking ahold of her wrist and moving it aside. "Get outta the way. I've got drinking to get done, and only a night to do it," Cinder so helpfully informs them both. "And yessir Captain…I think it's pretty official now. I mean…ain't no secret anymore," she declares. "Don't worry though, it's not a pilot of yours," she adds, grinning at the CAG.
"Better not be," the Saggie answers with a gruffness that his heart doesn't seem to be into, tonight. He reaches for his cup of moonshine right as Rian thrusts her hand out to show him her bruises. There might be a pinch of concern in his eyes, but it's brief. One thing he's probably learned in the navy, is not to mollycoddle people. "Lose a fight with a bulkhead, Amaranth?" he asks the young woman, hesitating a little with her name like he's not sure he got it right. Then the cup's tipped back for a healthy swig chased by a pull from his cigarette.
Rian snaps back her arm, frowning towards the blond, "relax chicka, there is plenty of hours left in the night. What's with the big rush?" Looking to her hand with the bruises then, turning it slowly in front of her she answers the CAG, "No. Is that what happened to you?"
The discussion of the other two about which one actually won the fight with a bulkhand randomly sets Cinder to giggling. No particular reason except that she's put down a few really good swigs of potent booze in a very short time…and she's not exactly the biggest girl. That high-proof stuff sets to work pretty quickly, and it's not so long before the warmth in her belly begins to spread.
"Nope," Marek answers enigmatically, attention drifting from Rian back to Cinder as the woman starts giggling. People don't generally laugh at his jokes. And that wasn't even a good one. He raises a brow slightly, and goes back to his moonshine. Hopefully none of his pilots'll catch him in here knocking the stuff back like it's actually palatable. His mind definitely seems elsewhere tonight, brooding features shadowed and distant.
Rian leans forward on her forearms, signaling for another shot. As the marine beside her begins to giggle she watches for a few seconds, expressionless. Then her face lights up as she smiles, showing her pearly whites n all, laughing softly and hunched shoulders shaking slightly. "So," she leans forward to see the Captain a bit better, laughter bubbling her voice, "tell me your story and I'll tell you mine." A sidelong glance to Cinder and a hiss of laughter escapes her once again.
"I'm…I'm sorry…" Cinder finally stammers out. "I just…you seem to get in a lot of fights Rian. And you fighting a bulkhead…preeeeety hilarious if you ask me." The second glass she has is still about half full, and she swirls it around, before downing it all in one go. "Man, this is probably going to kill all the cubits I got lying aroudn, but…totally worth it. Not as bad as you'd expect from a thing that looks like that!" she says, motioning to the still with her head.
Spider does not comment on how many fights Rian does or does not get into. That's marine business, and outside his paygrade. Mostly. "Which one?" he answers the marine, blue eyes crinkling a little at the corners as he tosses back what's left of his moonshine. It goes down with a single swallow, and a soft hiss as he drags the back of his hand across his mouth. "Shit," is tacked on in a low murmur. "Swear they're just recycling viper fuel into the still."
Rian continues to giggle along with Cinder, "Hey, I don't get into /that/ many fights." She signals for another drink, "I'm just who I am, if people can't handle it then frak em." The shot comes sliding down the tabletop and is scooped up by the private. The toast, a head toss back and it's down the hatch, the burn radiating from her stomach now. "Piffttt…" she half raspberries towards Marek, leaning into Cinder now as she speaks to the CAG, "the one about the current bruises on your knuckle? You and the lil miss get into a tiff?"
THAT seems to really start Cinder to giggling. "Heeeeeeee…that's funny," she says laughing to the point where she even snorts once or twice. Of course, when she starts to snort a little as she laughs, it makes her laugh harder. It's a vicious cycle, really! By now, her face is nice and rosey red too, but it doesn't stop her from waving a hand in the air like a schoolkid to get another glass. "According to the paperwork…you get into it a lot…surprised you ain't in the brig for good yet. Maybe your service is so exem…really great otherwise!" She tries desparately to keep a straight face, but really fails at it.
Referring to Sal as the 'lil miss' gets a bit of a smirk out of the off-duty Captain. Very off-duty, if the jeans plastered to his lower body and non-reg tee beneath his open fatigue jacket are any indication. He's seated next to Cinder and two down from Rian at what passes for the bar here. He's also on his second mug of moonshine. Someone call the drunk wagon. "Might call it that." It's murmured into his drink, which is held in the same hand as his smoke. Which is subsequently pulled from. His eyes trail a desultory path from Rian, back to the bar in front of him. "So." He ashes his smoke with a flick of his thumb. "The frak happened to your hand?"
"I got into a fight." Rian states, attempting to keep a straight face but fails, falling into a trail of laughter with Cinder. Holding her sides now she takes a deep breath, trying to stop "Sarge Villa confused the frak outa me and I solved that problem like I solve all my problems." A sidelong glance to the blond as she struggles to keep a straight face once more, "I hit them. Hard." And she bursts out giggling again along with the MP. The marine can sure laugh at herself.
What do you do when you're annoyed and there's no one decent around to get in a fight with? You go to the bar! The shitty hole in the wall bar with drinks as likely to make you go blind as get you buzzed. That's a Nikos game. It's like roulette with beverages. From the look of the marine, she's stopped by the berths before heading out to the SR. Weapons are stowed (visible ones, anyway), and the clothes she's wearing don't even hint at regulations. Add to that the fresh makeup, and you have a vision of the biker/arms dealer that scared half of the Resistance into sleeping with their weapons at night. (What? Moderately sized cockroaches scared most of them into sleeping with their weapons at night.) "Frakkin' figures." Mutter. She heads for the bar anyway, and in a show of only mild aggression, parks herself on the other side of Karim, smacks the bar, and orders up, "Cheapest, biggest drink you have." Quality booze is for… people who don't frequent this shithole establishment.
"Oooooh, speak of the devil…" Cinder spins a little to wave a bit at Sal. Off-duty and boozed up, saluting and all that really isn't on the top of her mind. Then, she thinks back on something Kai said…since yeah, it's taking her brain that long to catch up tonight. "So wait…why would they use perfectly good Viper fuel for us to get drunk on? Then you're not going to be able to do your job!" she says, hoisting her third of the night, and taking the moderately sized swigs that she maybe should've been doing from the start, rather than guzzling down the first.
The laughter erupting from both marines doesn't even seem to touch the pilot in their midst. He gives a halfhearted little chuckle, which amounts mostly to a soft huff through his nose, and tips back the remainder of his drink. His second drink. He's well on his way to some kind of record here, tonight. "Can't argue with that," he tells Rian, straight-faced. As an officer, and the Commander of the Air Group, he should probably have something more… officerly to say. But Nikos arrives, plunks herself down next to him, and he's suddenly surrounded by marines. Literally hemmed in on both sides. "I'm not buying," he tells her flatly, without even looking over. To Cinder, "I didn't say perfectly good viper fuel. You know the shit that doesn't pass quality inspection, and gets dumped? That's what I'm talking about."
Rian looks down into the empty shot glass, her face twisted into an 'ew' expression. The worry about the tainted alcohol does not last long however as he glare moves to the newly arrived Nikos. Shuffling in her seat she stifles her laughter, for now. The music comes to a scratching halt as she pulls her tiny tunes player from the speakers. Looking to get ready to leave.
"Privates." Salazar greets, seemingly the only one stone cold sober of the bunch. That's a cryin' shame, that is. She shakes her head slightly as the pilot comments in her direction. "I'm not selling." Oh, feisty. "I didn't think we had the resources to dump the shit that doesn't past muster. Just slap it behind a desk and call it a day." The other officer in the room doesn't seem too interested in officerly things. It's off duty time. Nobody need salute or be overly respectful when there's moonshine on tap. "Anybody go blind from today's fare?"
"Noooooooooooo…." Cinder replies, grinning at her. This is, afterall, number three, and she's definitely showing the other two. As she talks, and moves the glass around, sloshing it a little, spilling some. "Sleeeeepy times!" she exclaims, taking about half the current glass and gulping it down, sighing after, pulling the corners of her mouth up, and sticking her toungue out a bit. "Whoooo, strong stuff!" she finally gets around to declaring. Then, the unfinished glass gets slid down the bar to Sal, "On the house!" Then…well, she gets off her stool, a little wobbly, but the full effect of the booze has yet to hit. She wants to be in her bunk when it does.
Salazar's quip garners a wry twist of Kai's lips, but whatever he might've said is smothered by a hit from his cigarette. He gives a little shake of his head, keeps his eyes facing forward, and tips his chin in a wordless 'see you later' to the departing Privates. He must be able to hold his drink pretty well, as he doesn't seem to be showing any sign of those two glasses of moonshine yet.
Rian rises with Cinder, placing her hands on the blond womans shoulders as she wobbles slightly. A look and a sloppy salute it sent the way of the 'newly weds' as she makes her way to the doorway, slipping out into the darkness beyond.
