| Lost Found Returned |
| Summary: | A member of Deck steps into the Pilot Berths to return a little something lost, then found. |
| Date: | PH284 (27 Jan 2010) |
| Related Logs: | None |
| Players: |
 .. .. .. .. .. .. |
Battlestar Hestia, Deck 12, Pilot Berthings
IC Time: Post Holocaust Day #284
OOC Time: Wed Jan 27 23:33:52 2010
The Pilot Berthings of the Hestia is really like a central hub with each squadron's hall leading off the hexagonal central room like the spokes of a wheel. While the hatch to the communal Head and the hallway are on the flats of the Colonial's favorite shape, the hallways lead off the apices. In this central area there are a pair of tattered couches that sit facing each other for conversation's sake. Two round tables are nearest to the Head, four steel chairs places around them for the erstwhile meal or triad game.
Iggy rolls the pyramid ball from hand to hand, considering it for a time. Finally she comes out of her little daze and moves to settle on the other sofa, cradling the ball under one arm. "We had a good time," she says belatedly. Lots of aggression out there."
Rocco nods once towards Kissy, before he's flipping a card over. "Perfect." he says softly. "That's the best thing I've heard all frakkin' year. I might have missed the season, but I can at least see this shit." words a mixture of gruff voice and smokey accent. A flick of eyes back towards Iggy "You hurt anyone? Anyone cry?"
The hatch opens to admit a petite blonde. The little aircraft tech may be harder to recognize out of the bright orange coverall the Deck typically wear, though she is distinctive among them simply for her close cropped hair, and the accent which threads through her words like a layer of chocolate, sometimes obscuring the meaning, but no less beautiful for it — if one can be bothered to suss out what she's saying. She stands there for a moment, hands in the pockets of her sweats, just inside the door. She looks a little out of place. Her eyes glance from face to face, and she waits, with a soft clearing of her throat, before interjecting, "This is good time for social call, yes?"
"I guess?" Reverie replies from the couch as she looks towards the newcomer.
Matto looks back toward the hatch, and finally abandons the coffee pot, never having actually taken any coffee from it. He lifts a hand in idly greeting toward the person at the door. "Sure thing. Who are you here for, maybe we can point you in the right direction," he offers.
Rocco looks back towards Reverie for a moment as if to comment before he's looking right on towards the blonde woman in the hatchway, or a little beyond it. A faint pursing of his lips, as cards are now just sat down all together. A raise of a brow as if in study of the mechanic, before he's grunting and putting out his smoke. One more glance to his watch and he is slowly starting to raise up. "You're Pregnant, right? That's what this call is about." That or you were bringing him a sandwich, one or the two. Oh if only this was the perfect world and not the one that's been nuked back to the stone age…ish.
Iggy quirks a brow as she looks toward the hatch, studying the newcomer. "You're a non-pilot," she says flatly. "Wandering into pilot country. Asking about social calls. Are you frakking lost? Did a raptor hit you and you have brain damage? You came up here without a godsdamned Marine escort? Who the hell are you looking for up here so we can mock them?" Iggy, Miss Congeniality. Then her attention bounces to Rocco. "Awww, man. You DIDN'T," she says, in the same tone someone would use with a puppy who'd just piddled on the carpet. "Athena's shaved tits, Caveman. Wrap it the hell up or keep it in your pants. The last thing we need is your spawn stinking the ship up."
Mace stands there for a moment, rocking on her feet a little, before she settles back. She lifts a hand from her pocket, something crinkling, a plastic wrapper of some kind, against her palm. "Small issue of found and lost." She probably meant lost and found. "I found. This is, I think, something wanted." There's a brief look from Iggy to Rocco. The question, then tirade are endured with a curious little smile. "No, shiny head, my woman area is free from the babies. This is paranoid fear for you? Pregnant women looking for baby daddy. I see, but no. No, something different. We have never made the sex. I have… very high alcohol… toleration." There's a sweeping look of the assembled pilots. She flicks open her hand, small fingers opening as an accordion of little packets spills forth, like a jacobs ladder, perhaps ten in all connected in a little perforated chain. Ten condoms, encased in sealed blue wrappers, dangle from the small blonde's hand. "I find in tool room. I think of you." That would be a collective you, though her eyes flick back to Rocco, with a slight arch of a pale brow.
Reverie just stares for a few moments, blinking at the member of the deck crew. She blinks blankly before she looks back and forth between each of the pilots present before th crewman once more. She just starts to laugh heartily when the packets of condoms are revealed and lets out a happy little giggle in surprise. "Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant."
"At least I'm not from Scorpia." said back indifferently towards Iggy for a moment. "Spacer trash." a grunt, and with that Caveman's rolling up his sleeves and all to slide on his suit and zip it up. "Of me, or other pilots, pattumiera del seme?" a shake of his head. Not one of his, he knows where those are, and knows how many he has left. Rocco is moving to head on to the hatch as he has a CAP coming up.
Matto chuckles a little, himself, at the PO's retort to the Caveman, one hand moving to the back of his neck. Eyebrows quirk upward at the little hostess gift, then he smiles broadly. "Aww. That was sweet of you," he tells her. "Come on in. Have a cup of coffee or something." It's the least the wing can do for someone bearing gifts.
Iggy snorts delicately and just shakes her head. "You only wish you were, Cave. Typical Virgon ape." Again, the teasing is fond. Probably something they do regularly. "You thought of us," she asks Mason, eyes widening a little. "Huh. They're not mine, but we could get some damned good shit for those. Of course…No, CAG doesn't use the tool room. Hm. Hey Madman? Who fraks in the tool room, do you know? I can't think of anyone from my squadron."
Harrison exits the berthings with clean clothes in hand and a towel slung over his shoulder. Coming in on the tail end of that last statement causes him pause, and his head slowly rotates until he's taking in Iggy. "I think they keep those kind of tools somewhere else, Booster."
Mason's eyes flick to Rocco. "Putanen," is her simple reply to his verbal assault in Thracian. Somehow, even those who do not speak the language might kind of gather that didn't mean 'sir'. She smiles a bit, with just a slight crinkling at the corners of her eyes as she does so. "I leave here. You sort out, yes?" She steps toward the touches, and fans the packets out over the arm of one. There is a slight brightening to her smile as coffee is offered by a raptor driver, and she nods. "Muchas gracias." She shuffles toward the coffee pot, stride short. A smile is flashed to Reverie s she passes. She does take a wide path around Iggy.
Reverie is still giggling. This is way too amusing and she bows her head as the crew(wo)man passes by. She winks towards Rocco before she remains there and lets out a happy sigh. It's a good thing she stayed out here this evening. "What's your name? We should at least know the name of she who bears gifts."
"Don't look at me," Kissy murmurs, a simple indication of his innocence in the matter, "I n—" he pauses, "You know, I knew someone who used the Tool Room back on Kharon, but I don't know if the habit's transferred over here," he remarks. "In any case, if we put them out for general use I'm sure they'll disappear," he smiles. "Sure thing," he tells Mace affably enough.
"General use my ass," Iggy replies, laughing. "We can get good booze for these, I think." Though, to be fair, she doesn't reach for the strand. "I can give you a demonstration of how they're used, Exile. Since I know you've never had call for one before." Oh, yeah. She's in FINE form tonight. "Thanks," she calls to Mason.
Harrison shakes his head as he starts to breeze on past. "Yeah, I'm firmly holding on to that V-Card too."
Rocco just snickers as he rolls on out. Making for the hatch to follow Mason out, though he'll be heading for the deck. Not the toolroom, or anything like that. A slight salute to Iggy, and with that caveman's gone.
Matto's eyes sparkle in Iggy's direction, impishness lurking there a moment, "Duly noted," he replies, as to her ass being for general use. To trading the things off, Kissy's shoulder lofts a little bit, he looks generally disinterested in the matter.
"De nada." Mace glances over her shoulder as she arrives at the pot, and she digs for a clean mug, then pours. "Ah, PO1 Montgomery. Mason." To Reverie, she smiles a little again, then takes a test sniff of the brew. "Most call me Mace. Is simpler, easier to yell across large Bay." Flowers has been known to yell, you see. "I am engines. So you have problem, I fix." She taps her collar bone once, indicating herself, and then plants herself against a bulkhead to make hasty work of a few gulps of coffee, but she drinks them in small sips. "Mierda." This is a soft mutter of appreciation, by the tone. She checks her watch, probably not one to linger long past coffee and delivery.
"A pleasure to meet you, Mason." she says with a sage nod as she motions towards the rest of those present. "That's Isaiah Harrison, otherwise known as Exile. There's Iggy Nikos, Booster, there's Kisseus "Madman" Matto, and I'm Reverie Tychoides." There, all the introductions have been made. Hopefully the names will stick with the crewman.
As Harrison tries to breeze past, Iggy tries to make a breeze for him. Kind of. The fingers of one hand manage to snag his back belt loop and she holds on for dear life. For a moment, she studies Mason before offering, in Thracian, "Thank you for the gift."
Harrison is snagged by the pants and stops, looking confused for a moment. "A pleasure," he offers to the petty officer, along with a smile, before he turns his gaze to Iggy and lifts his brows.
Matto lifts a hand again as his name's mentioned, just to tie himself to the appelation more strongly. "Engines. I'm Fox-4," he adds his boat to his introduction, realizing that she might well know his boat even if she doesn't know him. Not that it's ever been too badly banged up, but it's been in and out of the shop a fair share for minor damages. "Good to know you, Mace."
Mace is probably most familiar with some of the faces as their callsigns, or rather, their vipers and raptors rather than the pilots themselves. She usually has her head down when they thunder through on a scramble or for CAP rotations. As Matto gives his ship designation, she nods with a clear look of recognition. "Ah, yes. 4 does not give me very much trouble." She nods to each in turn. "Mucho gusto." The little blonde smiles warmly through the various eye contact and replies, then finishes up her coffee. She turns to tidy the stack of mugs and assorted implements surrounding the pot before she goes, turning all the mugs the same way, and generally returning order. She nudges one mug just slightly to the left to complete perfect symmetry. "Buenas tardes," she murmurs just after, and lifts a hand, before she slides both hands back into the pockets of her sweats.
"I'm on the Raptor-2201 (or is it 03?)" Reverie replies before she wrinkles her nose once more. She bows towards the blonde before giving a friendly two fingered salute as she slips out. "Hrmm, good people." she says under her breath.
Iggy gives Harrison an innocent look. Nope, it doesn't really work for her. Her head tilts a little. After the silent question, she peers around him, without letting go, and grins at Reverie. "I think you're right," she tells Tycho. "As long as no one poked holes in them first, it's all good."
"Sirs," Mason finally says, as she moves to exit the Berthings. She nods over her shoulder to Reverie, obviously making a mental note of the raptor. "I keep in mind." Before she exits, she calls, "No holes! I check." Full service.
