PHD 240: The New Nest
The New Nest
Summary: Bronze and Gold personnel sniff out their new nest, and trade impressions of their circumstances.
Date: PHD 240 (15 Dec)
Related Logs: Related Logs (Say None if there aren't any; don't leave blank)

Hestia - Bronze/Gold Berthings

It's been only a short while since the prodigal children of the Kharon have arrived at their new home, and Wil has wasted no time in tearing through his chosen locker to affix the assorted odds and ends he had crammed in his last one. He stands here in his offduties, peering at the locker door. Home sweet home.

Roubani is settled on a bunk. He took a high one again, one where passing people wouldn't easily go bumping into things. Things like him. Settled quietly, he's sewing the new Hestia patch onto the left shoulder of his blue jacket.

It seems sewing and cross-stitching would be the plans for today. Sitting in his green fatigue pants, and his ever so awesome Unicorn t-shirt, one Ensign too, is busy sewing a few patches into the meagre bits of uniform he owns. Luckily for him, being a refugee is now actually paying off- There's not a lot of things for him to sew into. "Ow.." a prick, given the jerking of his hand, as one finger goes right to his mouth. "I remember this being easier in my costume elements class." Gresham, idly comments.

"Chalk it up to what the recruiters -don't- tell you you'll be doing, mm?" Willem finally contributes, as he looks back over his shoulder to eye Gresham and Roubani's activities, in a sort of idle manner. "They told the kids -all- about the Raptor rides. Oh yes."

"Sewing is a valuable survival skill," Roubani says, mildly. Unlike Gresham his fingers don't have any holes in them as he works, gold thread passing over and under. "Like weaving baskets underwater."

"The day weaving a basket or such saves my ass underwater, is the day I'll kiss someone from Aquaria." comes Gresham's own snarky comment, before he's looking back to his patch sewing skills. "You know I used to be able to sew names into costumes like it was no one's business. A frakking patch-Sorry Poet, is what gives me the post trouble. Eff." There we go, watching his language around fellow officers. Or something.

"I think Leda was practicing in the mirror. You could be his prince charming." Willem says as a wry aside to Gresham as he finishes re-arranging a box on the second shelf in the locker. Whatever it is. End of the world, he's still got his shit. "And I hope that wasn't a veiled reference to the value of a Liberal Arts education, Nadiv." He amends in an entirely faux-shocked tone, which fails to mask the intended humor of the statement.

Roubani does look up and at Gresham from under his brows, as though tempted to comment on the language. When the Raptor man self-censors, he looks down again and his lips twitch. "It was not, Willem. I took a lit-tur-ature-…" He purposefully mispronounces the word. "…class once, you know."

"I thought he only liked what's her name?" Ah yes, Gresham, clearly one of the Kharon faithful with that comment. Still he's shaking his head and looking back to his stitching, this time paying more attention. Which, hopefully results in less pricked fingers, and cursing. "Liberal arts isn't that bad..They always had the pretty majors." read: females. "Though I ended up finally in Computer Science, For the Win, might I add."

"What can I say. You know me. I go where the odds are good. Or the goods are odd." Willem coughs again, clearing his throat in a loud, rumbling 'ahem' sound as he addresses Gresham. "And I don't keep -that- close tabs on Leda's personal life. Thankfully." As he starts working on stuffing his duffel bag into the locker, he eyes Roubani. "I took physics too. Versatility and all."

Roubani chuckles sofly under his breath. He knots off the thick gold thread and ducks his head, biting close to the knot. Pop. His finger tracks around the edge of the patch, checking the stitching, and it holds. "Computers science was always a little dense." He reaches for one of the other patches that's supposed to go somewhere, turning it over. "The theory was fascinating, but once one got down into the programming of it all…what an awful headache."

Gresham looks blankly back over to Price. "Oh, and here I thought you had the pulse of the air-wing." sarcasm, thick there, before he's snickering. With a stroke of the needle, and a knot finished, one patch is set aside, before he's moving to start on another one. "Eh, I guess that is why I make a good ECO. Or something. Somehow I didn't end up in rookieville-Anyway I found it to be a blast. It's like writing music..Just with more ones and zeros.." a wry glance to Poet. "What did you major in, Sir?"

"Really, I'm the last to know anything." Willem quips, succintly, his head faintly tilting to one side and otherwise falling silent as he watches the exchange betweeen the other two.

"Physics," Roubani tells Gresham, as he combs his fingers through his little plastic box of sewing supplies. Oh yes, he has one. "It was a preparatory track for aerospace engineering. Much good as it will do now." Thread, thread…blue, aha. "And you, Willem? I must have asked you before, but I haven't been taking my ginkgo. Political science?"

"Huh." Virgil muses, perhaps more or less impressed that it was Physics that caught Roubani out of the plethora of other majors. "I would have seen you more as a mathematician, sir.." A grin there, before he's looking back to Willem, curious to the answer. "Some how I can picture you as a Poli-sci nerd, Willem." Yes one of the few pilots he would consider himself on a first name basis. "Say, what do you guys think of our new CAG?"
Willem has reconnected.

"Maybe Gingko has a different effect in space." Wil says, lazily. "But you're both -sort- of right. I had a soft focus and a number of credits on Poli but I was a Journalism major. History minor. The two of them could sort of overlap in such a way to give that impression. Yeah." Finally having stowed his gear, he slams the door shut and locks it quickly, adding, "Uh. I've traded maybe ten words with her. She seems pleasant enough and has kept people here alive for -long enough- anyway. I don't know her from Zeus. Why?"

"I have never met her," Roubani shakes his head at the question. "A glimpse when she came to Kharon, and…" A slight shrug. "I suppose on first impression, she is what I expected of a battlestar CAG." And Willem's already asked 'why' so he doesnt' repeat the question.

"Oh I was just curious." Quick dodge there, Gresham. Still the Ensign, is sitting down his 'needlework' for the conversation at hand. "She scared the crap outta me when I first met her-Though to be fair Captain Marek did the same thing." A sheepish grin there before he's running his fingers through his hair.

"What's with everyone saying that, anyway?" Willem finally cuts in, with a swift dart of his head back over his shoulder. "Sure, Spider's grumpy. But I wouldn't call him abusive."

"He isn't," Roubani says, threading the needle with dark blue thread. "So long as one behaves professionally it's quite difficult to get on Marek's bad side, really. What exactly did Sito do to frighten you so badly?"

Marissa arrives from the Pilot Berthings - Deck 12.
Marissa has arrived.

"I never said he was abusive. I just said He scared me. Hell if you must know, all of you scared me shitless for the first few weeks of Basic, with the exception of you Sir." this directed to Price, before Gresham is looking over to Roubani. "I was seriously afraid that I would fr-mess up in such a colossal way, you all would judge me from here to eternity. It made me second guess all the work I had done previous to coming military side." A beat. "She talked to me, and stared me down Like I was meat..or something."

First things first, a little nod is given towards Roubani seconding his comment. "I think we're a little slow to adjust to the reality that I just -don't- think there are any civilians anymore." Willem finally says, taking Gresham's statement of his exception in stride. Shrugging a little.

Roubani shoots Willem a mildly amused look when Gresh says he didn't frighten him. "It's just a tactic, Ensign." One shoulder shrugs lightly. "She probably just wanted to see if you would flinch. Senior officers and mind games go hand in hand." He's settled up on his top bunk with a needle and thread, sewing his new Hestia patches onto various uniform pieces.

"Sad but true," comes Mimi's voice as she steps into the berthings, her flight bag in hand. "Hey, Wil, Poet." Gresham gets a smile that's half sympathy, half greeting. Incredibly mobile faces those Southern Aquarians have, for having such a china-doll image.

"As I said. Adjustment is difficult." Willem echoes his earlier statement. "Evening, Delann." He says succintly as he finishes securing his goods in his newly-accquired locker. "I'm going to hit PT really quick before I begin a whole new life of paperwork. If you'll all excuse me." He says, half-smirking, half-sighing.

"Hey." given back over to Marissa, is the look due to his being stared at by the CAG, or did it come with the fact she gave him a rather off coloured moniker? Either way he's looking back over to Roubani and he shakes his head. "I am already nervous enough as it is, without mind games.." And with that he's closing his eyes for a moment. "I swear, I am too nervous for my own good." Gresham finally, admits.

Matto arrives from the Pilot Berthings - Deck 12.
Matto has arrived.

"I've heard they have a pool," Roubani tells Willem on his way out. His tone doesn't really say whether he thinks that's a good thing or not. Tugging the needle up through blue fabric, he glances up and nods to Marissa, then looks back at Gresham. Another slight shrug. "You haven't learned how to stand in front of a senior officer? Back straight, chin up, hands folded behind you, eyes front. Look past their temple at the wall, be still and think of Caprica."

"What did I walk in on?" Mimi asks half-distractedly, shoving her bag into her bunk and beginning to unlace her boots. And, realizing she just spoke out loud, does it again. "No, seriously: what did I walk in on?"

"They'll begin the torture half an hour later. Without me." Wil says, pausing slightly, a twitch of his nose. "A pool. A frakking pool. So this is what Battlestar life is like." With that, he starts to stroll on out after a slight wave at the other three.

Willem heads through the exit labeled <O> Berthing Hub.
Willem has left.

Gresham keeps his attention focused back on Roubani, amidst the advice and questions. "But, she was talking to me Poet. Talking, like asking me questions about my callsign. Saying I better not.." And with that he's falling back and sighing, rather dramatically. "I panicked-And spoke hastily, rambling on even with Dash." A look is given to Willem, and a wave, follows.

"You've a callsign now?" Roubani asks, as he keeps his eyes on his patch-sewing. "Nothing, Delann. Talking about the CAG and whether or not her hair is made of snakes."

"My vote's /yes/," Mimi says, as she throws Willem a quick wave and goes back to slipping off her boots. "I only saw her once, but I think once was enough. It sounds like it was a good thing I didn't meet her then, or I probably wouldn't be 'Mouse' now. I'd be something worse." Her sympathy for Gresham deepens, as does the look of it given to the unfortunate ECO. "Poor Gresh…"

"Medusa woulda been better." Virgil tacts on before he's looking to Poet, and there's a nod-though the other pilot cannot see it right now. "I do." added finally "Mind you it came after I said I didn't have a callsign-and then talked about the north wind coming from her….Cooter. She's named me Cooter." And like that he lays it all out, All thanks do a little nervous egging on by his own usually heightened state of hysteria.

"She didn't look that frightening in the hangar bay," Roubani says, regarding the two as if /sure/ he's missing something now. Then, most unfortunately, he asks, "Cooter? What's 'cooter'?" You can't fake that kind of naivete'.

Matto slips in from across the hub, fingers pushing up along his face and rubbing into his eye. His fingers are a little bit on the bluish side, but at least his tonsils are looking nice and healthy.

"I'll tell you when you're older," Mimi quips, giving Poet an impish little smile. She digs out her sweats from her bunk locker and begins changing into them. "Gresh, seriously… you need a hobby or something. Otherwise you're going to get so jumpy you make holes in the overhead deck at a 'hello'. Not that I don't think you're justified, in some cases…"

"I am sorry, Delann, but I can't turn all this.." and he motions to himself. "Off. I try, but seriously the mind keeps working over time. It is a miracle I pass out for slumber." And with that he's looking over to Roubani for a moment, mouth open, as he is trying to figure out if the Lieutenant JG is frakking with him. "I-uh." a beat as he sees Matto coming in, a little wave passed over, even if the Raptor Driver's rubbing eyes and all. "It's a vagina, Sir." Well there goes that myth.

Roubani stabs his finger with the needle as Gresham says that, shaking his hand out. "That's…descriptive. Well, look at it this way." He holds up his bleeding index finger, pointedly. "She could have called you a prick." He sniffs lightly and pushes the patch-sewing aside, rubbing his eye with the back of his hand. "Delann is right though, Ensign. You've got to calm down." His focus turned that-a-way, he hasn't spotted any new entrants to the fray.

Matto pauses at the Mantuan's announcement, physically halting his progress into the Gold half of the berthings and looking from side to side in search of this stray vagina that's gotten into the room somehow. He then just squints over at him, baffle-brained, and continues on toward the Poet's bunk. "Are you mangling yourself again, N?" he asks, in re: the bloodied finger.

Sparro walks in behind Kissy, shaking his head. "I have to say, folks, this is by far the most interesting coversation I ever almost missed." he walks over to his bunk, leaning against it. "We doing 'name that bodypart' now?"

"It's something.." A shake of his head, before he's looking to Roubani. "I try, I do- but given last week, now this week. Well. I have a score of bad weeks, like everyone else. I just need." A break and he is reaching for his stitching again. "Something to cool me down. I hear we have a pool oddly enough." At least he's not getting into the further debacles he's managed to get himself into within all of 24 hours of being on a battlestar. A look up to Sparro, and there is a shake of his head. "We're talking about my Callsign, sir."

"No, no," Roubani leans over his legs, looking down at Matto. The teeny bit of blood's licked off his finger. "Though I was thinking about hunting down this mysterious pool, just to get out for a walk." He looks over and nods to Sparro. "Good evening, Lieutenant."

"Mimi, please," Marissa reminds Poet gently as she slips out of her flight suit. Gresham's probably hearing it for the first time. "Maybe you just need help relaxing, Gresh. It's been a tough week for all of us. "There's the pool, and the biggest gym I've ever seen on a ship, and I think there's a game room." She glances up at Sparro, giving him a smile. "Hey, Birdman."

"Another changing callsing? Would you prefer 'Home Base'?" Sparro grins with nods to those who greet him. "And I have been thinking about that pool as well. Maybe get all of the old Kharon crew together and storm it some night. Maybe make it a skinny dipping party."

"It does seem like the pool is -the place- to find," Kissy remarks, leaning against the horizontal slab between Nadiv's bunk and the one below. "Everyone seems to have heard so much about it, it's starting to sound like Hyperborea or something," he chuckles. "I'd be game for going to look for it, if you are," he offers. "Though if we get lost you're in charge of building a lean-to and starting a fire to keep us warm."

"I didn't have one before. This is brand new..Oddly enough it reminds me of a mechanic I knew out of Smyrna.." Back home on Libris, for Gresham. Still there's a look back over to Marissa. Indeed, he's only ever heard her referred to as Delann, what with basic and all. "I need a dip in the pool." He adds finally. "Or a game of chess, those two would be perfect. I like swimming, and mind kinda works it's stuff out, you know?"

"I will sprinkle breadcrumbs along behind us." Roubani says, unfolding his long legs and sliding off his bunk. His feet thud softly as he lands on the ground. "Did you ask Legacy where that board went, Ensign?" He's so not calling the guy 'Cooter'. "Get ahold of it and we'll play. Marek gave his blessing to start a chess league. Little balance for all this fight night whatnot." He sounds amused, sliding his feet into his boots and leaning down to lace them up.

"Skinny dipping after storming the pool? Might be fun," Mimi chimes in whimsically, finally slipping on her sweats. The mention of that mechanic brings a thoughtful look to her face. "I'd forgotten… I actually knew someone back on Aquaria with that name. Humberson Cooter. You can probably guess about all the teasing he got about it. He was Angel 158 back on Aquaria, with the rescue service. I was actually stationed with him at Jembe."

"And I'll keep an eye out for gingerbread houses," Kissy smiles, then, wrinkling his nose, "So Testosterone Night is on as planned, eh?" he half-asks, shaking his head. "And your -callsign- is Cooter?" he squints at the Mantuan. "Whatever happened to Mantua?"

Sparro sits on his cot, shaking his head. "I need to get some sleep. Don't mind me, though. I slept through Kissy snoring in Black Bethings, afterall." He grins to all of them. "Good night. And if you find the pool, be sure to post signs, eh?"

Roubani finishes lacing up his boots, tugging the hems of the heavy fatigue pants down over them. He straightens up with a push of hands on knees and nods to Sparro. "Certainly will, sir." He gives Marissa and Gresham a tiny smile and takes a step past Kissy, sliding his hands into his pockets.

"We ended up working the /Caledonia/ wreck, together with Barnes's and Yamaguchi's birds…" Mimi starts, but then Sparro mentions he needs to sleep, and Poet seems to be on his way out. Possibly Gresh, too. "I'll tell ya the story another time. Have fun!"

"The CAG overheard me ask Dash if the jar that held the north wind was kept in her crotch.." Gresham says back over to Kissy. "She up and decided right then, and there, that I was to be Cooter." And so the story is laid bare like that. "I seriously thought she was out of ear shot..I even whispered to be careful, so as not to offend.." or get in trouble. However fate and luck had different plans. "I was thinking of going to Fight Night..Just to see…" And there's a grin to Roubani "I'll check on that board though. A good game would be rather fun. Do you prefer white, or black?"

Stepping in, Kitty gives a look around their new home before entering fully, her expression held in an expression that's wary almost, looking as if she is a cat who just walked past a room full of dogs. "Hey, guys. How's tricks?"

"Ugh… that sucks, Manny," Kissy tells him. "Good to know the CAG's all keen-eared, though," he notes, turning in Nadiv's wake and starting off after him. "Hey, Babydoll," he tells Kitty, "We're about to head out exploring. Who're you backseating for, now, anyhow?" he wonders.

Mimi glances up from stowing her flight suit, an excuse to hide the blush that came to her face when Gresham mentioned The Fateful Question, and smiles. "Kitty! Hey!"

"Hello, Katherine," Roubani says, lifting his chin towards the Raptor ECO. He waits close to the hatch so she can answer Kissy's question. He adds to Gresham, "Coin flip for it. Make it fair, of course."

Gresham nods back towards Kissy "Grand suckage." However he's not leaving his bunk in search of the pool, he's remaining seated, while he continues to stitch on patches. First things first, after all. And with that he turns his head as Kitty does in fact sneak in, and so he's pulling himself further into his bunk-though for Roubani, a parting thought. "Hey man, I am for all that is fair, but once you've had black, you never go back." Chess humor.

"I don't know yet," Kitty says as she steps towards her bunk. "Gods help whoever has the bad luck of having me in their backseat, huh Kissy?" She's managing a grin, trying to soften the self-depreciating joke with the slight smile. "I'll let you know once I find out." Marissa and Gresham are waved to and Nadiv's arm is air-patted, her way of showing her fondness for the pilot, before asiding to Virgil, "Hey, how's it going? Haven't really gotten a chance to talk with you lately." Turning a bit, she adds, "Or you, Marissa. How goes?"

Roubani groans softly at Gresham. He lifts a hand, making a small farewell motion to the room, and slips out.

Matto sucks in some air between clenched teeth, "Don't be that way, babe," he tells her. "Just remember to breathe, okay? Keep your head on straight and your eyes on your work. Make me proud out there, yah?" he taps her shoulder as they pass one another, then he's out after N.

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