PHD #102: 48 Hour Party
48 hours to Drop
Summary: The Cerberus Jump team decompresses, 48 hours before mission start.
Date: 2041.06.12
Related Logs: TBA
Cadmus Coll Constin 
Deck 12 - Training Room
A little taller than most rooms, this one was able to find some space under a section of Engineering that didn't require it. Overhead from the deck is a small catwalk where observers can watch the goings-on below them between the shift able walls. Nominally, set up for training in urban terrain, the course offers a variety of different training grounds with the different configurations including homes, offices and even battlestar corridors. All ammunition used in this area is paint or laser and as the signs repeat on every wall, the use of lead ammunition is a violation of Naval Regulations.
Post-Holocaust Day: #102

In a small exercise of organizational skills, the Training area has been reserved for the Jump team's use for the night. Rather than smoke grenades and barricades, the room's is equipped with a few of the diminishing stock of cigars, and a triad table. A generous supply of booze is present for consumption as well, the Corporal having called in a few favors for the festivities. Constin himself is seated at the table, divvying up little stacks of effectively worthless cubits for the card game. All the team has been told is to assemble for mission prep.

Coll saunters in probably expecting some srs training. She's even managed to procure a flight suit for this whole thing. Train like you fight, right? Instead, she stops just inside the hatch and stares while a smile spreads across her face. "Oh shit hot. We get a jump party? This is already lookin' like it might be worth it." She heads over towards Constin as she slowly strips the flight suit off her upper body. "I see many party necessities. Will there be booze?" she asks hopefully, sporting her friendly grin.

Constin looks up with a smirk, picking up an opaque cup with one hand, smirk deepening, "Way ahead of you, Coll." Taking a short pull, he chuckles before adding, "As of now.. we are forty-eight hours out from Go time. As of thirty hours hours out, no body can touch a smoke or a sip. Which means.." he drawls, with a broad smile, "It needs doing before then. Pull up a seat, you're the first one here."

She lifts a hand gingerly and gestures towards the cup as he finishes. "You best be double-timin your long pour on my booze, Corporal. I ain't had a lick of booze in damned near a month. I'm practically -fueled- by it." Just knowing shes going to drink, the country girl comes right back out. "So you decided that rather than actually get some solid training in tonight, we should get drunk and relax before the drop." The Crewman slides up into a chair. "This?" She taps a finger on the table. "This is why you need to be an officer. Cuz this is exactly what we all need I think."

"Set your ass down and pick up a cup then," Constin answers with a smirk as he reaches under the tabkle to pick up a bottle off the Training Room floor. Whichever seat Coll picks, the respective cup gets a long stream of mostly clear liquid poured into it. "This? Ain't from the officers books. This is one hundred percent enlisted common sense."

Coll's grin doesn't fade as she watches the pour. "Such a gentleman." She lounges back in the chair and crosses her legs, draping an arm over the back. "Enlisted common sense. I love it. Doesn't get any better than that. Gotta warn you though." A daring look crosses her face. "I'm a lightweight. Kinda. Ain't had a chance to get right proper drunk with friends in somewhere around a year." A hand reaches out to lift the cup. "Cheers. Here's to insane friends doing insane shit together. To getting out alive. And..? To getting our people home safe."

"Good," Constin returns with a snort. "Leaves more drink for the rest of us," he snickers. Replacing the stopper on the bottle and setting it on the tabletop, he picks up his own cup and assents, "Here-frakking-here," to the offered toast, touching his cup to hers, before taking a healthy gulp of the drink inside. Burns going down. A rattling breath is let out after the swallow, savoring the aftertaste.

Lauren takes a long sip of her own and forces it down with an awful liquor face. She scrunches the whole of her expression, shaking her head vigerously. "Whew! Okay, I'll be gone faster'n a jackrabbit." A shiver and she settles the cup down. "Thanks for this, Const. Good gesture. So.." She turns those eyes back on him. "Think we're ready for this? Gonna be the longest night of our lives. Sounds like we've got a lot riding on our plans on the ground."

Constin looks up to the Training Room's door, before he answers, "It *better* be the longest night of our lives, yeah? Otherwise.." he jokes deadpan. "Ah don't think the folks are left alive who're really ready for this. But having said that?" he adds, looking up from arranging his pile of cubits into even little stacks, to fix one narrow blue eye on Lauren. "Ah think we're the best shot this boat has. And that means we'll make it work."

Lauren lifts the cup back and nestles it in her lap against her leg as she listens. "Yeah I doubt there are any special warfare types left. Those bases were probably hit hard in the initial strikes." Her eyes fall back to the cup and she trails a finger languidly around the lip. "I agree, though. I think we'll make it work. No lie, though?" She takes a looooong breath. "I'm more worried about taking that first step off the Raptor than anything else. Been jitterin' about it since you told me. I had a dream last night about falling. Just didn't end, though. It was kinda relaxing after awhile."

Cadmus arrives from the Deck 12.

"Heh," Constin chuckles. "Yeah, it all comes down to that first step, don't it? After that, the falling's easy." A breath is drawn in through flared nostrils as he starts shuffling the hexagonal cards. "But see, that's what we've got in our corner: this shit's so damned stupid, no WAY the toasters will see it coming," he concludes with a broad grin.

Coll chuckles. She's sitting at the table with Constin. Legs crossed and an arm draped over the back of her chair, she looks fairly relaxed while her free hand trails the lip of the plastic cup resting in her lap. "I still think its stupid. I still think its insane. You got a point, though. See, machines are cold, calculating things, aye? They can't forment our kinda stupid which does kinda work to our advantage. Which, yeah, prolly means it'll work. Assuming that jump training survives that almight first step and landin'… Speakin of which, once we drink a lil more? I'll demonstrate a few tricks to landing. Outta the blue, occurs to me when I woke up this morning after thinkin' about that dream."

"I had a friend, back in the shipyards on Scorpia. Paper-pushing Navy girl, liked to watch the ships come in and out. She told me nobody in their right mind would do something as stupid as jumping out of a plane just to say they could," Cadmus announces. He's making his way across the room - just nearby enough to have heard the beginnings of Constin's opinion on the operation. "Next goddamn day, this EOD tech who was HALO-rated borrowed a bunch of disposable heat-shielding, got a deckie to fab him this freakin' egg-shaped thing, and did an orbital drop from the yards. He was in the brig for a month for being an idiot, but he made his point. Sometimes you do crazy shit just because you can."

"Once we drink a little more? If you're such a lightweight Coll, you ain't gonna be showing anything but *falling*," Constin snorts with a laugh. Cadmus' arrival is met with an easy grin, and raised cup. "Pull up a chair and pick your poison, Cad." The story of the egg-drop is met with a knowing grin.

Coll lolls her head to the side to see Cadmus. Her grin spreads again. "Lance Corporal Maragos," she sighs. "Pull up a chair and join us." Apparently she wasn't lying. Crewman looks like she's already feeling it. "Sounds like a ballsy EOD guy, though. Sounds like my kinda man." A soft laugh leaves her as she looks back to Constin. "Well -that-, my good sir, is the entire point. You fall, knowing HOW to fall." She lifts the cup again for another sip. Another scrunched face, but not nearly as severe. "Any jackass can fall on the ground. We just know how." 'We' is probably aircrew. Getting ahead of herself again.

Plonking himself down at the table, Cadmus momentarily surveys its contents with the critical eye of one who does not *often* drink, but is particular when he does. Eventually he settles upon one particular bottle, unstopping it and pouring himself a respectable amount. "I got a rule about EOD techs. Well. Three rules. First is that they go first if they smell anything odd. Second is that they're all crazy. Third is that you don't trust a word of any godsdamned story they tell you, because they're all a pack of liars. Then again, I agree with you on one thing, Coll: you step outside the calculable, the Cylons have a hard time guessing what you're up to," Cadmus notes archly, though there's enough grudging respect in his tone to indicate these are proper 'giving people a hard time' rules, rather than immutable ones.

Constin slides a stack of cubits over to Cadmus, as he deals out the hexagonal Triad cards to each of the three around the table. Coll's words earn a wry sidelong look and the question, "Which part of that knowing how leaves you facedown on the deck plating, then? That some kinda.. advanced course?" He sets aside the stack of undealt cards to take another pull of his own cup. "AHH!" he exclaims with a satisfied smirk. "Hell, every body's crazy. Some are just not as good at being crazy as the rest of us. Heh, poor bastards."

"EOD. Good Gawds. That's something I never understood. Who the hell volunteers to go out and play with explosives?" Says the woman at the table who got busted for messing with ordnance. "Especially when you didn't build em. That's just frakkin nuts. I don't blame em for being all liars. Hell, the fact that any of them are still walking around seems like enough of a lie in itself." Coll shakes her head and sips at the cup once more. "Well I don't like to calculate so I think I'm probably safe. I did electrical engineering at the academy. But if you sat me down with a math book? Forget it. Jumps're simple. Want me to figure out how to tip a waiter? Psh." She waves a hand and looks to Constin. "You. We've already established that you're an asshole. There's no need to continue provin such things." Her tone takes a playfully chiding look. "But you'll see. We'll play a hand or two, I'll limber up and show you just how stupid it can be. In fact.. I'll bet you a shot I can jump off this table, roll off my side, and pop back up. …I make no promises about after I pop back up. Just so we're clear on that bet." A finger is waggled between the two of them.

"Oh, shit," Cadmus mumbles, "Is it show-off time already? You wanna flip your ass off the table, be my guest, woman. You crack yourself upside the head and pass out, though, it isn't my fault. Just making sure that's on the table to start with…" It's a good-natured comment, especially given his over-dramatic eyeroll - the kind you can't help but notice, even if you're across the room. He eyes the bottom of his cup, taking another sip; "You know," he notes, "I got a lot of respect for anybody with a head for numbers. Especially the kind I can't even begin to fathom. But I can't claim I have any idea how the frak you do it."

And this is why the Jump party was two full days ahead of time: marines (and Coll) do seriously stupid things in order to unwind. "You're on, Coll. A shot says you hit the deck and wind up flat on your back," Constin drawls back to Lauren's bet. "As for Demolitions.. Hell, blowing shit up for a living- frak yeah," he opines with a chuckle. "Ah'd have signed up for that if they'd gave me the choice. But the fleet needed Em-Pees. Alright, you two- ante up so Laurn can take her faceplant.." he motions for cubits to move toward the table's center.

"I won't crack m'head." The more the alcohol effects Coll, the more she starts to sound like Constin. Rednecks unite! But her voice is dismissive with the grin. "Day after ejection training was done in flight school? We all spent the night jumping off the bar and rolling across the floor. Its a time honored tradition, thank you very much." Lauren manages to give the last part as if there might be some snot to her prim, but the drawl of her words betrays her easily enough. "Yeah, numbers ain't my thing. Most of the junk in Raptors is heavily computer aided. Its hard as hell on paper because space is expanding. Something is never where you thought it was when the textbook said it was. When ah heard that the first time, my head nearly exploded." A roll of her own eyes and she looks back to Const as she rises. The woman takes a sip of liquid courage. "Clear my launching pad." A gesture to the table. "Demo? No thanks. I like my explosions as much as the next woman, but I prefer them more..controlled." She's already moving to step up onto the chair and table. Crazy woman is actually going to do it.

Cadmus clicks his tongue and throws down some cubits on the table. "All right, then…" he says, tone bespeaking the finality of someone who knows that better judgement has already been packed up for the evening. "You best not fall and kill yourself. It's awful form to accidentally die after you just got out of jail, and all…" he adds, pushing himself away from the table. Just in case, you know.

Constin chuckles at talk of the launching pad, dropping his cards facedown, unplayed. "You're gonna feel a damned fool when you crash land and need to put down a shot on top of it all.." he challenges, removing the bottles from the tabletop, with another chuckle stirring his shoulders. "Clear to launch," he drawls.

<FS3> Coll rolls Athletic -15: Success.

"My dear Marines, I'm going to need a shot after this regardless." Coll preens a huge grin and steps up onto the table. She takes a second to balance herself, looking down at them. "Okay, see its like this: Foot. Opposite ankle. Calf. Hip. Shoulder. Stand." She waves her cup a bit before taking a sip and handing it off to Cadmus. A quick sigh and she looks to an open spot on the floor. "Annnnnd jump." She takes a flying leap from the table, nearly toppling it as her boots jump off. A few feet of air is covered and she does exactly as said. The Deckie pops up from a quick roll and stumbles back a few steps, nearly falling into one of the nearby moveable walls. She lifts her hands into the air. "Tadaaaa!" A finger lifts floating between the two. "Drink. Both of you. Then you both try."

"Huh." Cadmus does not have the most elegant response to Naval crew madness. In fact, he looks pretty shocked the deck is not toally covered in blood: he keeps looking left and right across the plating, as if maybe some is there, and he just hasn't seen it yet. "Well, I'll be damned. I guess it isn't as hard as it looks…" he notes, downing the rest of his cup with a perplexed frown on his lips.

"Ah frak me," Constin complains through a laugh. A shake of his head as he unstops a bottle and pours out a one-second long spout of liquor into his own cup, drawing a breath as he raises it toward the tumbling pilot and slams it back. "Aright. Ah got this," he drawls, handing off the bottles to Cadmus, as he plants a booted foot on the seat of a chair, and climbs up onto the fortunately sturdy tabletop. It only shakes a bit under his weight. "Ah got this-" he repeats, with a grin, shifting his weight from front foot to back, and forward again…

<FS3> Constin rolls Athletic-10: Success.

Coll swaggers back over to the table. She probably hasn't done that in quite awhile. The grin on her face is teh same pompous crack that the Marines are probably used to seeing from the Air Wing. She flops back down into the chair, nodding to Cadmus. "Its easy, Lance. Just.." She looks up to the Corporal and cringes a little. "Okay. Just.. don't try to roll off the foot you land on. Just kinda LET yourself fall onto your side in one smooth motion. Gotta bend a bit." A sip of Lauren's booze. "Nobody carries equipment on their side for a jump for 'ZACTLY this reason." A waggle and wink to Cadmus. "You're up next, boss."

Cadmus grumpily pushes himself out of his chair, pausing only to check his boots and their laces. "You gotta let the Corporal go first. He gets first crack at this rank frakkin' madness…" he protests, gesturing with both hands at the larger NCO. He's definitely not in any hurry to go jumping around in any way, shape, or form.

Constin treads on a few of the Triad cards, without noticing in the course of shifting his weight backward and forward. He doesn't really jump off the table, as much as he.. runs off the edge, the table shivering with forces it wasn't designed to support, but staying intact. Constin tucks his shoulder, and hits the deck- a bit harder on his back than might be desired, but rolls up to his feet. The momentum keeps him moving, and the big corporal slaps a hand triumphantly on the wall he nears, with a hoot. "HELL yeah!"

"Nothin to be said for the Lance to try and one-up the Corporal, eh?" Coll challenges. She then turns to watch the spectacle, nearly falling backwards out of her chair with the flying leap from Constin. Watching him land, she starts cackling like a crazy lady, lolling her head back before standing. She lifts her hands for a hi-5. "Nicely done!!" Smack! Back to Cadmus. "Alright. Let's see what you got. You pull this off, we -all- hafta drink. Again." She's already reaching for her cup.

<FS3> Cadmus rolls Athletic -15: Success.

Grumbling with inordinate garrulousness, Cadmus clambers up on top of the table. It's almost a put on, how much he's protesting under his breath - like a really bad card shark, bitching about his luck. And so, when he leaps off the table, it's not terribly surprising that he's also thrown in a slight twist - such that when he lands, he's facing away, and can calmly walk a half-circle back toward his chair. "The day I let anybody in my own fireteam show me up," he notes, "Is the day I'll hang up my armband."

A wordless cheer is given to Cadmus' successful plunge off the table in Contin's wake. From outside the Training room, this must sound like the least orthodox HALO drill in the annals of the Colonial Fleet.. Or perhaps a still unfolding frat party. Once again, his fist thumps against the wall in triumph, before he brandishes one of the bottles, so that each of the three can take the shot they're due.

Another cackle for Cadmus as he lands and just gets right back up. "See? This shit ain't hard. Jus takes a lil bit of faith in the physics. Weird shit? You put most of the crunch into your hip. Hardly feel it, though. My jump instructor said you can fall for up to about a dozen feet and land like that and barely feel more'n a bruise." She lifts her cup again for a refill. "To sweet landings an happy trails." Lauren isn't really waiting. She's already sipping again as she moves back for the chair. "So as I'm understandin, we gotta work in the dark, right? We even packin' any sleeping gear? Or just plannin' to chug coffee before the jump?" Its not really directed at either of them.

Raising his cup in response, Cadmus pours out more: "Cheers to that, Lauren." Apparently you rate a first name if you drink with the MPs, no matter what their prior relation to you may have been. Swirling the contents about a bit before swigging away, he finally resolves his answer into a shrug. "Given my preference, I wouldn't pack anything so extraneous as sleeping gear. I'd pack a bigger rifle, more explosives, and heavier armor. I can sleep when I'm dead, and the more I sleep, the more likely it is to get permanent on me."

"Ain't got room for sleep gear, and ain't got time to use it, even if we did," Constin answers Coll with a snicker. "Pass on the pillow, pack more Ay-Pee rounds. Heh- Wait a sec.. You're right," he declares with dangerous enthgusaism to Coll as he slams down his own measure of the bet. "This is a night jump.. we gotta jump off the table BLINDfolded," the big man declares.

Coll has her own little pride in that smile for being rated as she has. She looks to her cup before something seems to remind her. "Yanno, I thoughta something yesterday while I was workin' them Vipers." She takes a quick pull of the cup, eventually waving it around a little as the Deckie continues. "You guys don't have to pack explosives. They got -Vipers- down there. I can disassemble a couple warheads and build you a bomb ifn ya need. I can assemble it but ah'll need someone with some demo skills to put it down proper. Saver yerselves some weight on charges. Stock up with..whatever it is you guys tag along in your kit." Lauren is about to lift her cup again when she looks to Constin. "You're out of your mind. If I die or break mahself on this damned thing, I'm telling Cavanaugh that you broke me! But I'll do it if that's a dare or bet. Lance? You in on this next-level insanity?"

"Well, I'ma let someone else carry the bombs, because I don't know crap about explosives. All I know how to do is shoot straight and not leave a trail. And I'm not even all that good at not leaving a trail. But if it means I can bring more bullets, so much the better!" Cadmus admits. He clacks down his cup, and gives a thumbs-up to those around. He does favor Constin with yet another seriously dubious expression, though. "Blindfolded, my ass. You gotta strap goggles to your head and see through 'em. Get your head all unbalanced to hell."

"Hey," Constin returns to Coll with a daring stare. "You're free to back down any time, Lauren. And as for you-" he eyes Cadmus with a cocky grin. "Outta the way. Ah've got this." Talk of the bombs registers just enough through the bad idea haze to warrant an answer. "We'll need an initial charge to get INTO the damned place.. Now," he declares, placing a boot on the seat of the chair and a hand on the table's edge to keep his bearings, "Who's gonna tie off mah eyes?"

Coll shrugs, making a face. "There should be bombs around. I can probably get them disassembled in..Geez. Have a two thousand pound bomb for you in maybe an hour? I'll bring my ordnance kit. It'll be a party. But last I heard, we had acces t'em Vipers. Shouldn't be a problem gettin' in." She waves the cup once again with her last remark. Yes, Coll is most certainly feeling her booze. But with the request from Constin, she's popped back up and moving to tie his blindfold. " are aware that this is a bad idea. If you frak your ankle, you're goin n getting scrubbed from this op. Ain't no hidin' a serious limp," she cautions under her breath. He can probably smell the shine in her voice.

"Ah'm aware," Constin mutters back, with a grin in his voice, "That this is one bad idea that sounds like a frak-ton of fun, right now. Heh- why wait?" So much for Enlisted common sense. "Aright, you good? Nothing up the left sleeve, nothing up the right sleeve.." And he shifts his weight to step up on the chair seat.

Coll steps back as the man gets ready to jump. "Clear right! Clear left!" she hollars a bit drunkely. "Clear for engine start!" She's slowly sliding back around the table towards where he is going to jump. Its probably a good thing he can't see the near motified look on her face while she clutches her cup between both hands. "Ruuuun up! Clear for cat launch!" Probably something that pilots have to hear a lot. There's a cringe to her face as she keeps edging around.

<FS3> Constin rolls Athletics-20: Bad Failure.

Yeah, this is a bad idea. Constin feels with his boot for the tabletop, and hefts himself up one boot at a time. At least, that was the intention. The table, already unsteady after the first round of bad ideas, now under even more strain from the big man's uneven steps, finally gives out. Constin doesn't even have the chance to attempt his ill advised jump (probably for the best) before a *crack* sends him spilling back to the deck floor, amidst a tumble of curses and Triad cards.

Oh..SHIT! "Const!" He goes tumbling to the floor and she tries REALLY hard to be concerned but she's laughing. The flurry of cards going airborne with the collapsing table? She sags to her knees by him and sets her booze down. "Oh Gods!" Still laughing, yep. "You okay? That was EPIC!"

The stream of profanities relents in places, long enough for Constin to chuckle and reach up to pull down the blindfold from his eyes. "Frak- landed right on mah ass!" he grouses, the complaint, along with his rueful grin giving the clue that he's fine apart from a bruised backside. "See- What'd we say? The first step is the tricky part," he chuckles.

"Yeah. And Karma is a BITCH!" Coll grins like an asshole. "You left a welt on mah ass last week. Had a damned handprint for three days. Ever had to do showers an have everyone wonderin' why you're hidin your ass?" She shakes a finger at him. "Explain them bruises away!" Oh yes, Lauren is getting a solid kick out of this. She reaches for the cup and takes another long sip. "Now git yer happy ass up, ya big lug." She offers her hand to him like she actually expects to be able to lift or help him up. He's probably twice her size!

"Heh," Constin grunts, amused. "Ah fell. Easier to explain than a *handprint*," he notes sardonically, accepting the offered hand up, but not leaning heavily on it as he climbs back up to his feet. "Aright, gimme a cup, ah need another couple pulls."

"Yeah, 'cept your whole ass is gonna have a bruise. One thing for a woman to have a slap mark. It could mean 'lot of things. Good times, for instance." She gives him a totally innocent expression. "Or that some jackass Marine slapped her on the rear. But you?" She motions to his backside. "People're gonna wonder why you look like you took a poundin." Coll blinks and opens her eyes with them pointed towards the roof with a grin. Yeah, she went there. "Hold on. I'll git ya a new cup. Seems yours vanished in the shrapnel." Lauren moves to grab another one and pour some of that Enlisted Goodness. Its offered quickly.

"You can kiss mah bruised ass," Constin cackles at Coll's reference. "Heh. Shrapnel.." the marine mutters as he surveys the remains of the crash zone. The offered cup is recieved with a nod of thanks, "To good times and crash landings," he drawls, before gulping down the offered cup.

"Amen, Const!" Coll lifts her cup to the cheers and downs the rest of the contents. Ohhhh that's gonna hurt. Not that she cares. Lauren takes an unsure step backards and leans herself against the wall as she looks back to him. Its pretty obvious she's drunk. "So. I got snookered into some crazy shit. Something about dropping my ass out of a Raptor at some obscene altitude. Yanno.." Lauren points a finger at him as she pours herself some more. "If mah Dad was still alive, he'd probably kick yer ass. But you lucked out. I've done a lot of stupid shit in mah life, but I'm preeeetty sure this one takes the cake. You know, after this? There's going to be no stopping you. Or Maragos. Gonna be flyyyyin up that chain of command."

Constin's throat shakes with a restrained chuckle, before he gulps a breath of fresh air to chase down his drink. A wordless exclamation of enjoyment follows the further reduction of his stomach lining. "Well, ah'll just call that little stumble there as being your daddy giving mah ass a kick, then," he drawls dryly. "As for.. flying? Think ah'll leave the flying to you, Coll. Hell, you know there's a *name* for this kinda crap? Seriously.. read it one of the Corp history books. Back in the day, when guns needed lots of reloading, the first wave of sorry bastards into the breach would soak up all the bullets and the casualties, whilke the second wave rushed in before the enemy could reload. Used to be a quick way for promotion if you could survive. Called 'em the 'Forlorn Hope', no shit."

"Well if'n mah daddy didn't, I sure as shit would've." Coll: Country In Full Swing. "But I cain't fly for beans. There's a reason they stuck me in the jumpseat. I tried Viper quals once upon a lonesome. Crashed the sim six times before they begged be to get out." The rest of it is as about as sobering as it gets for Lauren. She looks up at him from her lean on the wall as she slowly starts inching down towards the floor. It probably started as involuntary and eventually sounded like a good idea. "That what you're thinking we are? Forlorn? That is we die, it don't matter? Its just expected?" Its about as honest a question as he's going to get from her at the moment.

She gets a pointed glare at the question, "Frak no. Shit, Lauren you're one gloomy bitch, you know that?" he drawls, cracking a shirt-lived grin to go with the insult. "All ah meant by it was bigger prizes take bigger risks to win, ya know? This bird chase we're goin' on? Is about as big a prize as the boat can score.. only seems fitting that it takes a great big frakking risk to score it. And we're the ones with the guts to take that risk, yeah? 'Forlorn' is the word them sorry sunsabitches without the guts to jump give to us ballsy bastards they dont unnerstand." Belatedly, her earlier words register and he prompts, "Waitasec- why would YOU have kicked mah ass?"

"I'm only gloomy when I'm confused. Or about to do something utterly frakking insane. Its why I backseated Raptors. Don't need a pilot gettin all down on the comms." Did she say she was slated to be a CAG one day? Ah well. Coll considers the rest of it and nods finally. "Risks ain't a big worry. You know me better'n anyone on the boat, Const. I got nothing to lose. You know why I'm doin' this?" Lauren challenges easily. She lifts her cup towards him. "Because I'll follow you into Hell'n back. You say it can be done and I should go? I trust ya. As fer kickin' yer ass?" That grin turns a bit feral. "You heard me. I went down easily on the deck. Remember, I'm drunk. All I need is a trashcan lid." She kicks a foot gently at the air in his direction.

"Yeah, none of us have much to lose, do we?" Constin chuckles. "Some folks just don't realize it." Her latter challenge, however is met with a look dripping with bemused skepticism. "Hell, Lauren.. you really want to kiss the deck again, so soon?" he laughs, all smiles. "Just cause I did something real frakking stupid, don't mean you gotta try something even dumber."

"Bah. We all got somethin' to lose, I guess." She shrugs. "Just about everyone in this battlegroup has someone who cares about them. Tha's a loss." Is that..optimism!? Coll sputters a laugh with the last. "What the hell have you done that was so stupid? And I could -totally- take you. …If I had a division of Marines to back me up."

"Well.. Epic it might've been- but that blindfold thing was prolly not the best idea ah've had all week. And this is the same week a twenty mile jump came up!" Constin points out pointing the forefinger of his cup-holding hand at Coll as he makes that particular point. "Well, ain't you just a big ball'a sunshine?" the big marine drawls.

"Okay. That was stupid. But hilarious. It definitely had redeeming value because I got to watch the MP that detained me fall on his ass. THROUGH a table." Coll gives another preening smile. "I give that a Three-OK." Prolly another damned pilot term. "I am in no way sunny. Any evidence submitted otherwise is a fabrication or delusion on th' part of the person submittin the evidence. I'm a dour bitch with the disposition of a nuke. Grrrr!" She even makes a face to accompany the growl. But its topped with a grin and she takes another sip of her drink.

Constin snerks at the Grr, looking around for the rest of the bottle (or *a* bottle, really) and finding one before long. Reaching down to grip the back of his overturned chair, he sets the thing upright again next to the ruined table and settles into a seat upon it. "Now y'see? This kinda thing right here? Seems like exactly the kinda shit ah couldn't pull anymore, if ah ever do make of'cer," he muses aloud.

"Pffssshhhhh," Coll dismisses with a wide gesture of her cup. "Don't be makin' escuses." Yes. Escuses. "When I was goin through that whole hilarity of OCS, they told us that i'z important for the enlisted to make sure they know you're human. Just like all o'them. Makes 'em realize that you aren't some robot who don't care about them. Now!" She takes a breath, tilting the cup towards Constin. "I don't know what you Marines believe, but that's how the Navy see's it. Just, you know, gotta make sure you don't look like a dipshit. Gotta endure the burden or some shit 'bout how that all goes. I'd be the happiest girl on the boat to sell you a salute, though. You're smart.. confident.. You don't take shit." Another tip of the cup. "Huge plus. You inspire jaded people like myself. You're gruff. Annnn you play well with others. Bein' a big, muscular guy with broad shoulders like you are? Yeah that def't'ly don't hurt, either." Her smile is more personable now. Less cocky. More honest.

"Ah take WAY too much shit offa you," Constin rebutts with a short laugh. "And frak off! Ah'm not making no excuses.. just thinkin', s'all." He never conceals his low brow accent, but the deeper into his cups the corporal gets, the more slurred and pronounced his drawl becomes. "Yeah, yeah, 'nuff of that, Lauren. You ain't getting a frakking blush outta me," he smirks. "Anyhow. You need anything else? Nother drink, or something?"

"You don't take nearly enough shit offa me. You keep that straight, bub." Lauren dares it all with a slightly playful smile. With his last, though, she slowly pushes herself up the wall. "Ain't made t'make ya blush, Const. Just flowing the truth to ya. If you want to take that as the compliment it was meant? You do that." She downs the rest of her drink. "But nah, I need to stumble back to my bed." Still got a mattress on the floor of the brig. Its almost like her new home. She takes a few drunken steps towards him and bends down to brush her lips to his forehead. They linger for a moment before she stands again. Lauren's cup is nestled warmly between her hands in front of her. "You're a good man. One of the best. I couldn't have wished our situation t'ave happened any different." A pause. "I'll see you on the hangar deck, Corporal." A few steps backwards to the hatch with her eyes on him before she turns the rest of the way for the exit.

Lauren takes those steps backward from where Constin sits among the broken table and scattered Triad cards. The talk of taking shit, the staggered steps, and unforseen brush of lips to his brow aren't commented on immediately, as he isn't much sure what to say, apart from: "Guess it's mah turn to prove you right, this time around, Lauren." He draws a breath, regarding her for a moment before offering, "Seeya in the brig, Coll."

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