PHD 272: World of Traveling Sweatpants
World of Traveling Sweatpants
Summary: Laundry and non-standard underwear, are the subjects of this meeting.
Date: PHD 272 (January 15, 2010)
Related Logs: None

[ Laundry - Deck 8 ]-------—[ BS Hestia ]
IC Time: Post Holocaust Day #272 OOC Time: Sat Jan 16 08:35:50 2010

While formal uniforms like Dress Blues and Greys are drycleaned elsewhere in the ship, they can be dropped off here at a small counter with bags you can tag, and rolling bins beneath to toss them for transport. Linens are also laundered by the support department, dirty simply traded for clean. Personnel, however, are required to wash their own fatigues, off duty, and civillian clothing which is the main purpose of this room.

Banks of washers line the center of the room, while front loading dryers are stacked two high around the perimeter. There's a scatter of chairs throughout, but judging by the dented surfaces of the washing machines, most opt to sit ontop of those. At the ends of the row of washing machines are formica folding tables, their surface pockmarked and gouged over the years.
-=[ Condition Level: 3 - All Clear ]=---------

It's been a while since Villa got here. Oddly enough, there's only one empty duffle near the washer he's using. The marine grunt is leaning sideways over empty machine that's beside his.

Ensign Marissa Delann is only just arriving, but the fullness of that laundry basket says it's been a while since the last time she came here. She peers over the top of a multicolored pile that she can barely get her eyes above, looking for that elusive item known as an empty washing machine.

Being unable to see one's feet makes going through the aisles of the laundry room a little risky, but she manages just fine, barely. There's one stumble. Recovering, she realizes she's not alone. "Hi," she says cheerily, probably with a smile that can't be seen over that pile of clothes. "Something wrong?"

Villa is idly checking on his nails as Delann arrives. He follows her and her basket as she walks closer to his spot. "Hi," he returns, and pushes off the washer to lend a hand. "Nope. Nothing," he says, as he grabs on to the basket to help her. "This one is empty," he hints with a movement of his head to the machine he was leaning on.

"Hmm? Oh, thank you," Mimi says, accepting the help. If he takes the basket, she'll let go. "I think I'll need more than one, with the color issues, but one's a good start. Thank you so much."

Villa didn't get a clear view on /who/ was carring the basket, so, it is until he sets it down for her to sort out, that he gets a good view. A nice little smile draws over his face. "My pleasure, little one," he offers in that raspy acuarian tone, and moves around her so she can begin her mamboo. "Darn shame you had to carry that all by yourself," he says, as he pulls out a chair and straddles into it. Yes, he's looking at the gal, but not in a 'i wanna eat you' fashion. More like a 'what a nice specimen' way. "It had to be a burden to be dragging that all the way from… medical?" He hazards a guess at her department.

That's a good smile. "Oh, it wasn't far. Just from the Pilot's berthing…" she starts to say. Caught up in the reply to the first nice person she's met in a while, she almost misses the telltale tug at her waist when the basket is lifted away to be set down. "Wha… wait, it's..!" Of course it's too late by then, and the entangled drawstring to her sweats is pulled with the basket, stretching out the waist until the knot comes untied. She barely catches her loosened sweatpants by snapping her knees together.
Blushing, she glances back at her unnamed helper with a smile that's somewhere between embarrassed and bemused. "Um, would you believe I needed to wash those, too?"

Villa ahs a bit as he hears her say where she's coming from. Another pilot, it seems. "Well, it's still a drag to be ca…" his sentence cut short when Mimi's sweats come undone and slide down to her knees. For a few seconds, he stares at the exposed undies and skin, but as soon as he glances up to meet Mimi's eyes, he quickly turns his head away chuckling. "I guess… I belive you, sir." Man, if he found Delann to be a looker, now, that mental image of her face and buttocks will live on his mind forever.

"Oh, good. And bad. Tell me, would you rather believe I was a liar or immodest?" Mimi asks, tugging the tail of her sweatshirt down over pink civilian panties. "If I'm a liar, I have to pull these up. If I'm immodest, I have to wash these with the rest." She's still blushing, but there's a hint of suppressed laughter in her eyes now. It might be an embarrassing situation, but she can at least have fun with it, since the Marine seems to be such a good sport about the whole thing.

Villa get another look from the corner of his eye at the female form 'stripping' in front of him before he decides to do the manly thing. "Hold on, sir," he stands up, and digs into his neatly folded pile of clothes, taking out a novelty 'Aquarian Furies' towel and extends it. He now brings it over to Mimi and does his best to wrap it around her waist. It's a slightly complicated task, since he's face is turned away most of the time he's doing this for her. Zeus is having his kicks at thier expense, it seems. "How about you just wash them and we'll leave it at that, sir," he snickers some.

"'All of the above'? Well, if you say so," Mimi replies with a giggle. "Thank you again." She stoops to unlace her shoes and step out of them, then slips the sweatpants off and lays them on top of the washer. "Sorry to put your sense of proprieties at risk, accidentally or not. I guess I should introduce myself, so you have a name to associate with the dingbat." She manages another smile. "Ensign Marissa Delann, but my callsign's Mouse."

Villa is glad the towel is doing his thing and covering up an awkward moment. When Marissa brings out her full name and rank, Dom nods and offers a formal salute to the petite officer, "Sergeant Dominic Villa, CMC medical detail." The salute is dropped, and he returns to his previous chair straddleing. A pack of cigs is taken out and one is lit with the help of a cheap lighter. Yes, he needs to smoke to release some tension. "I'm meeting a lot of Kharon folk these days, sir," he says after he exhales that white mist from the cig, "So far, all nice people." What sort of a marine says pilots are 'nice'? He must be a cylon.

Mouse continues her sorting. "Nice meeting you, Sergeant, but we're both off duty, so no need to salute me," she says. "Besides, if I turned, snapped to attention, and saluted you, this towel would probably come loose, and we'd be back where we were thirty seconds ago!" She looks over. "You know, you're only about the second Marine I've heard say anything good about anyone who wasn't a Marine. I don't know why, but thank you for it. Lords know I hear enough bad."

Villa watches the pilot sort and nods to her words. The smoking doing its soothing act, and the marine gets a lot more talkative, "Well, we're all in this tub doing our jobs as best we can manage. Belive it or not, sir, I like to see the best side of people before getting a look at their worst." He takes another drag and yet another white puff flies around the room, "If I may, what is your take on things, sir?" He does like to ask a lot of questions when he gets a chance.

"Well, I couldn't say if you saw my best side or not," Mimi says, blushing just a little and trying not to smile. This could be a /long/ conversation. "But I understand the sentiment. I guess my take is that this merger really isn't any easier on /Kharon/ people than on /Hestia/ people, but what I don't get is the hostility, on both sides. I just don't see the point in it." She looks up. "/Hestia/ just recently lost her CAG. The previous CAG from /Kharon/ was promoted into her slot. I've heard some very ugly things said about it, and it's not his fault. He's just the best qualified for the job."

Villa continues to smoke as he listens to Marissa. A nod here and there before he speaks again, "Captain Marek seems like a man who can handle the stress of his posting," his head looks to the ground for a bit, "At least i like to think so." He doesn't know Mae all that good, but he has a good summary from what he's seen of him. "Our CO is also in hades with the recent turn of events, but, he's used to complicated situations." His head comes back up and the final drag of the cigar is taken. "And let me just say, all your sides look pristine to me, sir," a sly smile is spared for her. Nice way to liven the chatter.

"That's my take on him, too. I'm not familiar with /Hestia's/ CO, but I doubt he'd have command of a Battlestar if he didn't have /some/ idea what he's doing," Mimi replies, beginning to load a washer. She has to stand on tiptoe and lean over the side of the thing to see inside, and arrange the load for balance. The comment on her sides makes her chuckle. "Thank you. I rather like your thoughtful side, Sergeant."

Villa smiles and stubs the cigarette into a small can he has on him. "You know, sir, you are looking to me as someone with a gentle and sweet demenour…" a pause and he adds, "Could've fool me easily into believing you anything except a stick fanatic of the wing." He is now looking squarely at the woman. His washer long done, but he sticks to talking to Mimi.

Mimi blushes a little more deeply. "Actually, my old job was as a rescue pilot on Aquaria. So I probably /am/ a stick fanatic at the heart." She coaxes another smile through the layer of flatteredness. "But I don't see any point in being a rude or inconsiderate one. If there's a stereotype of pilots to be held up, I'll leave it to the Vipers."

She looks Villa up and down, finally meeting his gaze with her own. "You seem like someone who does a lot of thinking, Sergeant, and tries to see all the angles. It's not something I see a lot of, here or back on /Kharon/, and I think it's a good thing there's someone to do it."

Villa rubs his nose a few times and blushes slightly, "Eh… Well, I suppose I do have a inquisitive nature, sir." His eyes stay on hers for just a few before he's looking to his stopped machine. "Oh! Almsot forgot about you," he says, and stands to walk towards it. If things where wierd a few moments ago, they soon find themselves back to that zone. Dominic opens his washer and begins taking out what appears to be women's clothing. All standard issue, but nevertheless, women apparel. "Dolores is gonna murder me if I foul these up," he sighs softly.

Mimi chuckles. "You're good at it, from what I've seen," she replies, finishing her loading, shutting the lid, and hopping down. And snaring that towel as it slips loose. "Doing someone a favor?" she asks approvingly, as she nudges her shirttail up a bit so she can furl the makeshift skirt around her waist again. Wrapping it over her sweatshirt hem was a bit precarious.

Villa smirks and shakes his head, "More like a lost wager, sir." The clothes are piled before he opens a nearby drier. "I never was a good triad player," he hitches a shoulder and begins filling the machine with the damp clothes. The machine is set to run and he turns around to sit over the now empty washer that's right next to Mimi's. "You carry an awful lot of civvie items, sir," he comments nicely.

"Ah, I see. I hope Dolores appreciates the work," Mimi replies, wrapping the towel back around herself with a quick motion and tucking a corner in securely to keep the thing in place. "As for that, I guess I was a little lucky. I was actually going to a conference on Scorpia when the Cylons hit the Colonies. So I was carrying a lot of my clothes with me, and I managed to hang onto a fair amount, even if I had to abandon some here and there." She grins. "Which is good, because a lot of the standard-issue stuff fits badly." She begins loading a second washer.

Villa ahs softly at that. "Sorry about your losses," he quips as he watches the pilot's second round with a washer. "Yet, It's hard to picture you out of frame, even with standarized clothing, sir." He's not all out flirting here, but he's calling it like he's seeing it. His head tilted just a tad to get a better view on the loading.

"I was sorry to leave some of it, but it was survival on the line at the time. I wonder if that shoulderbag's still at the bottom of that ravine it fell into…" Mimi pauses, hearing the comment, and glances back at Villa, trying not to smile. "Are you trying to startle me enough to fall into this thing?" she asks, finally losing the fight with her face and smiling.

Villa brings his fist over his mouth to cough a few times and shakes his head, "You'll excuse my words, sir, but it's often difficult to restrain comments like that from leaving my mouth when beauty is around." He also figths the urge to break out laughing. The tiny bell inside the drier rings to signal it is done, and Villa hops off the other machine to unload it. He is still grinning amply from the recent dialogue, as the clothes get pushed into a clean duffle. "Just so you know, sir, I am willing to exchange my towel so you won't press fraternization charges." He looks back to her with that grin and asks, "Deal?"

Mimi shuts the lid on the washer and drops down from the rim, laughing softly. "I'm teasing you, Sergeant. At least you're honest about your, um… appraisal. And I'm not about to press fraternization charges. We had a perfectly normal conversation, albeit with slightly abnormal clothing involved, and I don't regret that a bit." She reaches for the towel, pausing just as her fingers touch it. "Or is that you'd rather I didn't pull this towel off?" She matches him grin for grin, twinkles of humor dancing in her eyes.

Villa brings his hand out to stop whatever might be on Mimi's mind. "My dear, sir. Keep the towel. Not doing so, will probably find me sleeping in the brig tonight," he teases further. A smile lingers there and he bows all regal-like. "By you leave, sir," he says before taking the duffles and walking out with them.

Mimi's mock-disappointed look is undermined by the smile that keeps threatening to burst into being on her face. "Spoilsport. But I guess you prefer sleeping in a normal bed, too. Go deliver your wager, Sergeant. See you later!"

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