PHD 270: Tired Pilots
Tired Pilots
Summary: Kallisto shows why sleepy pilots shouldn't think; Matto…does his own thing; Reverie and Kairos prep for a bus ride; Sizemore wanders in.
Date: PHD 270 (January 13, 2010)
Related Logs: None

One of the ECOs who has always been in the background on the Hestia has now taken the forefront. She's a bit more mature, though she's stil one of the youngest in the Furies Squadron, but Reverie Tychoides is comfortably cuddled up in a warm blanket in the berthing with a book on her lap. She scrunches up her nose as she reads a text on astrogation, sighing softly as she thumbs through the pages. She hrmms, npursing her lips and for now, she's basking in the peace and quiet.

Backfire breaches through the hatchway into the black berthings, clad in his flightsuit. It's opened and then closed behind him (inconsiderate of any who may be on his six), the pilot then making a beeline for his bunk. It seems to be pretty quiet. "Tycho. What's goin' on." he greets half-heartedly, running fingers back through his hair. "Astrogation. Good gods, I can't believe you're using your spare time like that," comes the grumble. "You and Sol, totally nerds." He settles down into his bunk and rifles through his stuff. Ahh, fresh tanks. At this point he's peeling off the suit.

"I was almost a navigator, you know." she quips, sticking her tongue out towards Backfire as he enters. She chuckles softly and scrunches up her nose as she shrugs her shoulders. "Hey, I may be a nerd, but at least I'm cuter than Sol." Damnit, she better be cuter than Sol!

"Frak, Backfire, where are your manners?" Kallisto blurts out as she's the next one through the hatch to the berthings. Same CAP, hours flying with the man, and now he's not even holding the door. Tensions are running a little high, of course. Some hair is plastered to her forehead and neck, and her flightsuit is unzipped down to about midchest, revealing the sweat around the neck and all from the time in the cockpit. Like Backfire, she heads on over to her bunk for a little breather and maybe some shut eye before having to run the second CAP she's assigned today. When the light inside goes on, the pictures inside are revealed, and she has to push a sketch pad and some pencils off to the foot of the bunk to avoid squishing them!

"Well, navigate yourself into a godsdamn suit," Backfire says to Reverie, pulling off his tanks and switching it out for some fresh ones. "We're going out for a little flight around the block, and you're sitting backseat." There's a matter of fact sort of nod given towards the would-be navigator, before looking sideways at Sketch. "Non-existent, LT. But I didn't see you there, in my defense," comes the subsequent reply before he's looking at his watch. "We got a bit of time, but not that much. Two shifts in a row is harsh, man."

Grumble grumble. Is it her turn for a shift really? She sighs and nods, wrinkling her nose as she flops off the crate she was sitting on and starts rumaging through her things to find her flightsuit. "Fine, only because you want the best ECO in the fleet, I'll join you.." she says with a wry grin curling onto her lips. She can't help but chuckle as Backfire gets chewed out and purses her lips, holding her tongue from saying something else quippy.

She changes in front of the two. It's not like it's something they haven't seen before. "When did Backfire get manners? is it really a surprise, lieutenant?" she asks curiously. Okay, she was quippy.

"Well, no, I suppose he never did have them. But here, I thought I was started to teach him a little something. You know, I've seen old dogs learn more tricks than him, and you know what they say about them!" Kallisto settles into her bunk with a little grin on her face, reluctant to change out of her flightsuit since she'll just have to change back in later. So instead, she flips on the bunk light, and snatches up the dog-eared, well-read paperback she had managed to keep since Warday. It's an analysis of Scorpian ruins and ancient archeology.

Kairos raises his brow slightly before zipping his back pack up and tossing it further into his bunk before sitting on it. He looks towards Kallisto, smirks slightly, and then glances to Tycho. He jerks his thumb in the direction of Sketch and mouths 'old dog' before licking his lips and going back to his business of…well, what /is/ he doing? Oh right, waiting for a bit of time to pass.

Fortunately for Backfire, Tycho can change quickly. She chuckles softly as she slips on her flightsuit and zips it up completely before peering towards the pilot with a wry grin and just shakes her head. He's lucky she didn't repeat what he mouthed. "Well, there are at least some cute old dogs, but there are those that you have to take out back and shoot. At least that's what I remember reading in elementary school.." she says softly before hopping in front of Kairos.

"Okay, I'm ready!" she chirps merrily.

"Have fun," Kallisto offers to them, dryly. About as dry as the subject matter of the book she's reading, in fact. How she finds that stuff palatable is anyone's guess, since she hasn't exactly been very forthcoming with information about her life prior to Warday. Only a handful of people know that she did, in fact, teach history before being stuck on the ship here for Reserve flight training when shit went south in a hurry.

Perhaps to be good natured about the insults/teasing sent in his direction, and perhaps pseudo-hostility towards Sketch, (no, he doesn't hate his wingmate), Dak goes to the hatchway and reaches for the handle, pulling it open and gesturing forth for Tycho. "Ladies first," he says in the most dulcet tones he can muster.

Matto trudges on home, shedding the topmost portions of his flight suit like some sort of serpent mid-rebirth, scraping against a rock to try to get free of a particularly stubborn row of scales. An arm flaps about behind him until it's free of suit, and the arms flap down to his ankles behind him, leaving his top in tanks as he stretches out his back and basks in the fresh air on his arms and tummy. "Hey, guys," he greets the others.

Oh sa-nap. Tycho quickly peers at Sketch as the door is opened for her. Hopefully she won't get defenestrated out of the berthing. She grins and gives a perky and friendly little wave to Matto as he heads in. "Hi! And unfortunately we have to go Kissybear, he demanded my services." though she does a flying kiss his way.

"Come on, let's go before I change my mind and you have to get the less cute Sol." she teases Dak before slipping out.

Kallisto merely shakes her head a little in the direction of Backfire and Tycho, noticing quite clearly over the top of her book the way that Backfire does indeed show some manners…finally! Maybe in spite of her, maybe because of her, but whatever. "Please, Tycho, spare us the pain. Some of us would like to get some shuteye." Not to say Smalls is a bad guy, he just…talks. And talks. And talks. Makes sleeping a little challenging, more importantly.

"Well, you'd better go service him, then," Kisseus retorts with a jaunty, crooked smile as he passes by, ducking a little to the side and lifting his arms as if in fear of some retaliation for the play on words. "Spaeter, y'all's," he tells them, skirting close to Sketch's sketches and looking over them as he passes by, "Hey, dude. What's up tonight?" he wonders of her.

The curtain to her bunk is opened, so, that's sort of an invite for people passing by to take a look inside and peek at the sketches that are hung up on the walls of the bunk. Kallisto, however, isn't sketchin but reading. When Matto looks in, she lowers the book to her stomach and looks back out at Matto. "Resting up before my next CAP in a few hours. And you?"

Matto does, habitually, take a stroll past the art gallery when it's open, "Me? I just landed." And boy, are his arms tired? "Gonna grab a shower as soon as I finish getting out of this thing." This thing is, of course, his flight suit, the top half of which he's wriggled his way free of, at least, the arms flailing down against his legs as he continues to amble past to his own bunk. "After that? I haven't really thought ahead that far. What'cha reading, eh?"

"Oh this is just a ratty book I brought with me when I came aboard months and months ago for flight training. Had I know it was going to be the last book from my library I had to read, I certainly would've selected something more elaborate. This is a rather academic look at the ruins and other sites of archeological interest on Scorpia. Probably not very interesting to most folk." In her bunk, Kallisto shrugs a little, lying there in her own flight suit, unzipped down to her belly, but not at all pulled off. She's not going to bother with a shower until after second CAP.

Roubani has a mug about three-quarters full of something. Certainly not the berthings' despicable coffee; the string of a teabag is hanging over the rim. He pushes the hatch open with his shoulder, other hand carrying a very small notebook with its metal spirals running along the top.

"Hey, you— never know," Kisseus equivocates warily, not wanting to call the choice of texts boring, even if Sketch is admitting it may well seem so. "Does it have pictures, at least? For those of us with a disinclination for prose?" he adds with a warm chuckle as he lifts a booted foot onto a chair and leans over to unfasten it. His head turns from its position near his bent knee, and, spotting Nadiv, he straightens again. "N!" he calls out by way of greeting.

"Well, rough drawings, hand-made with dimensions, and a few black and white photographs. Not much else." A cost-saving measure, no doubt, to keep the printing and publishing prices down. When Matto calls out to Roubani, Kallisto looks over in that direction, and regards him with her eyes first, not wanting to call out across the berthings like that.

"Good morning." Roubani's soft-spoken voice reserves the greeting for when he's quite a bit closer to the pair. "At least, I believe it's morning. Your circadian rhythms may vary." He takes a sip of the strong-smelling tea, clearing his throat. "Everything well?"

"Evening, here," Kissy lets N know with a smile, "No wonder you weren't drinking last night. It was actually the morning previous," he teases gently. "No sippage ante meridiem," he tosses a gnomic cap on there for good measure, going back to unfastening his boots and chucking them into his locker. Clunk-clunk. Clunk-clunk. "Black and whites can be pretty classy snapshots," he grins up at Sketch, then, attention snagged by something Nadiv's carrying, "Is that mine? I'm good. Morning was a little rocky, but nothing unmanagable," he assures the Poet.

"Not looking forward to another CAP. Unfortunately, you'll just have to deal with one sweatyish, flight-suit-wearing pilot who's CAPs are right in the middle of her naptime. As pertains to the photos, if you find this classy, then you're alright in my book…." Literally? Figuratively? Does it matter? As she says that, Kallisto hands the book out to Matto, with a page marked by her fingers. It has a black and white photo of some crumbling ruins. What it is, he may not know without reading the caption. Either way, she takes the opportunity sans book to lift a leg and reach down to her bootlaces, apeing Matto as she starts to tug them off.

Roubani is flightsuited himself, as air wing crew so often are. Unzipped to the waist and empty suit arms hanging by his legs, the T-shirt underneath is at least quite clean. He holds up the notebook where Matto can see it, offering it over. "If it isn't yours then you'll have to tell me whose it is. It was on the floor of the Raptor in your gravitational field." His dark eyes glance at the book as it's passed about, head tilting at the photo.

Matto shimmies a little further out of his flightsuit, then pauses when the book's passed down his way, and he takes it in his hands, not seeming to mind that the flightsuit subsequently falls down around his lower calves, leaving him standing in tanks and regulation boxer-briefs as he eyes the image. Without going quite so far as to read the caption, he adds his own, "I met a traveller from a distant land who said, 'Two vast and trunkless legs of stone stand in the desert…'" He shows the picture to Nadiv with a quiet smile, "It looks like one of mine," he adds, as to the notebook. But that doesn't mean much. There are probably whole crates of those little memo pads somewhere on Kharon. He offers the textbook over and takes the notebook instead, if it's given.

One boot comes thumping down on the floor beside Kallisto's bunk, and then she has to stretch out to get the book back from Matto. She lets it rest on her stomach, using her body to hold the page, book pages down. This allows her to reach her other boot and thump it onto the floor as well. "And yes…that's just about the gist of it. I did teach it for years, mind you," Kallisto throws out there, casually, a little more open than she normally is.

Roubani trades Matto notebook for book of photos. Or he would have if Kallisto hadn't reached for it. Sike. He wraps his long fingers around the white mug, letting his shoulder rest gently (but not with a slouch) against the upright pole of a bunk. "Taught what, exactly, Lieutenant?"

Matto just shows N the picture then, the reaching hands of the book's ownder precluding the transaction as the Kissybear lifts it for Kallisto's ease of seizure. He takes the notebook, then, and flips it open, easily recognizing the material inside. "Yah, that's one of mine. Thanks for picking it up, N," he smiles at the guy and steps on out of his flight suit the rest of the way, leaning down to pick it up and fold it properly before setting it on the table, peeling down one quarter of the chest to unzip an inner pocket and retrieve his assortment of Needful Items for restoration to their respective places in his locker while he showers. He goes quiet for the almost ritualistic divestment, letting the others chat and listening idly. Bag of gummies on a shelf. Inhaler next to it. Medallion hung by the card mirror gummed up on the inside of the door, and, now, a worn and folded slip of something off-white, marked up in black marker on the back, tucked, still-folded, underneath a corner of the mirror.

"In another life, I taught history at a Caprican secondary school. It seems so long ago now, even though it's been but a few months," Kallisto replies to them. Of course, that answers at least a few things about her. She's not the hottest hand on the stick, but steady and reliable. Definitely has something of a maternal vibe. Reads a lot, and even enjoys the boring stuff like history. And of course, little brother didn't fall far from the parental tree! With some interest then, she turns her attention to Matto as he peels object after object out of his flight suit and replaces them quite precisely inside his locker, not saying a thing. All pilots have their rituals and totems, and those seem to be his!

"Ah, I see," Roubani replies to Kallisto. "I remember listening to teachers arguing about teaching was one of the more entrancing things to listen to, years ago. The Freireists were fascinating." He sips from his tea, eyes turning back to Matto over the rim. "Mm, of course. I hope you didn't have a pen with it. Knowing the tendency of pens to find their own owners around here, it'll be long gone by now." Not bitter over his dwindling pen collection, oh no. Another sip of tea, and then he asks, apropos of nothing, "If your surname were to live on as a verb after you died, what would you want it to mean? 'To Matto'. Tomato…" He pauses and waves a hand. "'To Matto'."

The Needful Things put in place, Kissy folds up the flightsuit again and tucks it away, pulls off his twinned tops, making his tags fall with a clatter to his chest as he does. The comment on pens gets a quiet smile from him— the question, though, makes him pause. "Eh?" he considers the question briefly. "Hm. I guess I'd hope it would describe the act of solving problems and diffusing conflict with the perfect hug applied to the appropriate person at the perfect moment," he finally gives his answer. And steps out of his boxer-briefs, tossing them into the laundry bag with his tops.

When she looks over to comment at the two men, Kallisto gets a good look at Matto's…uh, tomatoes. "Whoa now!" she protests, holding a hand up at the side of her head to avoid getting another glimpse. Not that she's unfamiliar with the parts, but that she's unfamiliar with those specific parts, to clarify. "Mind giving some warning next time before you drop trow, please?"

Roubani uses the cup rim to hide his mouth, which means he might be smiling. The sudden nudity he deals with simply by politely looking away. "…I think perhaps the 'perfect moment' part could use some work, Kisseus."

Matto is a little startled by the sudden woahing, and he freezes in place until he hears out the complaint. "Oh… heh, sorry, dude," he tells her, grinning. "I'm naked, now," he informs her, ever-so-helpful. "Hey, N, I didn't even hug her. I mean… I -could,- if she -wanted- me to…" he offers cheekily in that direction, a playful threat, just there.

"I hope you won't think less of me if I decline, hm?" Kallisto replies, thoughtful as always. "Though, I wonder…" she smirks, closing the book and replacing the sliver of folded paper she was using as a placeholder, and setting it aside. From the head of her bed, where she stashed it away, comes the sketchpad and pencils. "How much would someone pay for the dubious distinction of having one of my sketches of your nethers in their locker or…ahem, cockpit?"

Roubani falls silent, still sipping his tea. His expression says very little as Kallisto makes that statement, glancing at her sketchbook and then the thread of his teabag, which he gently rescues from drowning in the cup.

"Nah, that's alright, I'll just hug the Poet," Kisseus turns his attentions on the other, but doesn't pounce, perhaps out of respect for the mug of tea that might get spilled mid-hug. Not that he's afraid of hot water. He just knows how much the Poet loves his tea. And besides, now he's getting drawn. The question makes him laugh aloud, "HAH!" just like that. "I don't see why anyone would pay anything for it. They can come see for free if they want," he points out. "Though when I get shot down it might become something of a collector's item, I guess. Well, go on," he holds still long enough to oblige the artist, though he grabs a towel from his locker the meanwhile.

Kallisto's not really about to draw the man's penis, nor anything else at the moment. It's…sort of contradictory (no pun intended) to the rest of the artwork she has displayed around her bunk. "You two are incorrigible," she admonishes them, but, it's really none of her business. Rather than worry about both men, she just, draws the curtain on her bunk, enough to give all parties some privacy, but enough to still be involved in a little conversation.

Roubani is actually looking a hint uncomfortable by this point, watching Kallisto's sketchbook rather than her face as the woman nearly delves into pornography. He clears his throat finally looking back up once the matter's settled, but her comment seems to strike the wrong chord. "Excuse me, sir?"

Matto just shrugs one shoulder as Sketch declines to… yeah, that. He wraps the towel around his hips and tucks one end in at a hip to keep it easily in place. He smiles back over his shoulder to Nadiv as he does, fully expecting the Poet to disassociate himself with his own incorrigibility. He doesn't say anything, though, just grabs a toothbrush and closes his locker.

"Well, always wanting to walk about with your bits and pieces out and about. Well, maybe not you Poet, but, I haven't run into you much. Although, I haven't seen this one much either, I can just tell. This is going to be a regular thing, isn't it?" For a moment, Kallisto peeks out around the partially drawn curtain to speak to Roubani…thankfully finding Matto with a towel about his waist.

Sizemore walks sleepily into the berthings with his flightsuit unzipped and hanging off his waist, apparently having just arrived from his last CAP. "'Evening, all…" he mutters as he zombie-shambles his way to his locker.

Roubani isn't smiling. Something's clicked the wrong way with the JG in the last few minutes. "With all due respect, sir. I am uncertain what I did to so seriously offend you that I would deserve to be insulted in return." He straightens up from his slight lean against the post. "If you will excuse me. Good evening." His steps start around the bunk row towards the hatch, with a slight nod given to Sizemore on the way.

"Well, I'm covered up, now," Kissy notes gently in Sketch's direction. "I do tend to change clothes a couple of times a day. And shower," he adds to the list. "But I'll shout out before I change next time, yah?" he tells her, then, elbow leaning against his locker, he turns to regard Nadiv as he goes, lips drawing together a little.

"Well, Poet, I don't mean any insult by it. Just…ignore me for the moment, ya? Or blame it on Matto for surprising me with his junk. Either way, tired pilots are not smart pilots, and I'm in between CAPs. Find me after a good nap and I'll treat you to a tea to make it up to you?" Kallisto looks legitimately concerned for Rou as he seems to have taken it rather significantly more seriously than she had originally intended. She doesn't stop him from leaving, however, hoping that she her words will at least soothe whatever ill-will she evoked.

Sizemore tosses a nod back to Roubani as he wearily opens his locker and drops his jocksmock to his ankles, before stepping out of it and stowing it in his locker. Thankfully, he's safely underwear'd. It's about then that he realizes the reason for the discomfort and sleepily looks over to Kallisto. "Sorry," as if he possibly could have offended as well.

Roubani clears his throat softly. He's paused at the hatch, tapping the rim of the cup with his thumb. "Alright, sir. Excuse me, I need to get some work done." A vague nod given the room in general and then he's off out the hatch. Back to the calculator, presumably.

Matto watches Nadiv out, then looks to Sketch, again, "Right. And I'm to shower. I'll be back in a little. I'll probably change again when I get back," he warns her ahead of time, tossing her a twitch of a grin before he heads out.

"Sheesh…think it's about time that I finally get some shut eye. Seems as if I've managed to offend two pilots, and while others might want to go for the three strikes, I'd rather save what little face I can. That being said…I'm going to attempt some shuteye now, finally," Kallisto says to the remaining pilot in the berthings. "Crazy Kharon kids…" she says with a little shake of her head, pulling the curtain shut the rest of the way and turning off the light in her bunk. "See you when I wake up for my next CAP, perhaps!"

Sizemore nods blearily as he climbs into his bunk. "Yeah, sure… see ya in the morning, Sketch." Josh grabs his media player off the shelf and dials up a playlist before popping in the ear buds and laying back for a snooze.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License