| Beltane BBQ |
| Summary: | The crew celebrates Beltane with a old-fashioned Aerilonian BBQ |
| Date: | 30 April 2041 AE |
| Related Logs: | None |
| Players: |
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| Observation Deck - Deck 3 - Battlestar Cerberus |
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| With a quiet view to the stars, this tends to be one of the more popular 'quiet areas' of the Cerberus. Up front is a small-unseated area for ceremonies or other activities while the seating rises up behind it. Each level rises up behind the one before it, comfortable chairs and couches set up for crewmembers to relax, get some work done or even take a nap. A large armored plate is lowered during Condition One to protect the interior against a breach in the glass. |
| Post-Holocaust Day: #63 |
The observation lounge has been decked out for Beltane in a number of ways, thanks to some hard-working volunteers. Colorful paper lanterns (aglow with tiny electric lights, unstead of the traditional candles) are strung back and forth overhead, giving a festive touch to the gunmetal blues and grays of the ship's interior. The grey-carpeted center of the room has been strewn with large, colorful squares of fabric — ersatz picnic blankets, where folks can lounge and eat. To port, theres an open space where someone's personal music player has been wired to a decent set of speakers, playing a mix of both contemporary Colonial and traditional Aerilonian folk music, inviting the brave, celebratory and/or inebriated to dance.
Probably most notably, the space smells good. Along the starboard hull, several long tables have been set up with trays of food that's significantly more savory than the traditional mess, probably due in large part to a lot of BBQ sauce (a special recipe made from scratch). There's plenty of grilled chicken, burgers and dogs; corn bread, cole slaw, collard greens, stewed beans, and peach cobbler. There are even tiny 'racks' of ribs which, although noticably salvaged from MREs, have been drowned in the BBQ sauce and re-grilled so they're pretty tasty. Pitchers of cold sweet tea bead condensation at the end of the line (one of the pitchers is opaque, purple plastic, criss-crossed with red tape upon which is written 'The Good Stuff'.) A few of the aforementioned volunteers keep an eye on the food, acting as runners to the galley when necessary.
In the observation lounge, strung with paper lanterns and faux-picnic splendor, Penelope is busily helping the runners from the galley get the last few trays of food on the long tables. She checks the time and darts over to turn on the music, then back to the tables — where she pries open the big purple jug labled "The Good Stuff" and a empties in a couple miniature, domestic-flight-size bottles of booze. She whistles innocently as she does so, then pours herself a small cup, taking a cautious sip. Big eyes. She smacks her lips. "Par-TAY."
Cidra slips onto the observation deck. In her off-duties and ready to party. Well, as ready to party as the woman is capable of looking, at least. There is a generally relaxed air about her as she heads up to the food tables. Spotting Penelope. The woman is offered the barest hint of a smile. And looked at carefully, as if trying to match face with name in her head. "Quite a…spread I do believe is the colloquial term?
Aurola slips into the observation deck, having heard the news around the ship of the pary and wanting to stop by to see what a party on a military ship might be like. The woman is limping slightly from her early dancing accident. But, at the least, she is there and making her way into trying to be something of a partier. But stuffy academics are more inclined to just sip at a class of champagne will talking about black holes, quasers, and the relativistic quantity of the permutations in a pulsars rotational speed.
A party huh? Cilusia might not be Aerilonian, but she sure as frak likes to eat and drink and act a fool! In the stream of people filing into the observation deck, she slides on into the room. She pauses a moment inside to take in the decorations, but then? Next stop, booze-town! It doesn't take much to get her moving, and even as she crosses the room toward the table with drinks and food, she's already shaking her butt, holding her arms in the air and butt-shaking all the way across the room in remarkably good timing to the rhythm of music she's not too too familiary with.
"There we are, the party's begun!" Penelope beams her approval at Cilusia's dancing up to the tables. "The good stuff's in the purple jug — scream if it needs more kick. And you, lass," she beckons Aurola over, "look as though you could stand to eat something."
Cidra eyes the purple jug. "I drink but rarely," she says. Avoiding it studiously. "It muddles the senses in a way I do not particularly care for. Though if there is a bit of wine to be had I shall partake in that much." None of her is shaking at the present time, though she does watch Cilusia's entrance with that bare hint of a grin.
Aurola limps while she walks towards Penelope, smiling a little as she asks, "What makes you think I need food?" Despite the limp the scientists still maintains her four step walk.
"Oi, sorry… no wine," Penny apologizes to the CAG. "Though if you've got some you want to fetch, BYOB works well." She flashes a big, friendly smile at Aurola. "It's an Aerilonian farmer thing, I think. We just like t'feed people. Aside from that, you're a lovely but pale, slender slip of nothin'. Have some chicken?"
Malone steps in from the outside now, pausing a little bit as he looks around. Stepping to the side of the entrance, he looks at the sights, sounds and smells of the room so far. Keeping silent for the moment.
First stop? Pour some of that good stuff in a cup! Cilusia steadies herself to make sure that the stuff that smells suspiciously like sweet Viper fuel doesn't splash everywhere. Running the little bit she poured under her nose, a smirk pulls at her lips…then she throws it down…and it burns the whole way. Her eyes go wide, her eyebrows raise, and she shakes her head side-to-side, loose hair free to bounce and fly all over. "Well, frak me. That's GOT a kick. Phewie!" Refill, then a rib is snatched. With drink in one hand and ooey-gooey riblet in the other, she skeedaddles from the table to socialize!
Eexit liiiiiiight, eeeeenter Roomba! Sofia has meandered in quietly. She watches things for a moment, with wide intensely green eyes. She seems at peace with the world. She glances around, perhaps considering the meal and the company. She's definitely more slow and thoughtful these days. The engineer skulks on up though. Hmmm. She smiles seeing Cilusia though.
Cidra shakes her head at Penelope. "That is quite all right. Water shall do fine. Or something else less…muddling than whatever is in that jug of yours." She gets food first and foremost, however, filling her plate with a decent helping of Beltane barbecue and available fixings. A glance over at Aurola and polite nod to the civilian, though the CAG doesn't particularly join any pressuring of her to eat.
Aurola looks at Penny after she says something and she replies, "Well, I guess. Haven't ate today." S he smiles and moves over to get to the table and the chicken, "I'm Aurola, by the way." Social event, so she keeps away from being a doctor and everything else along with it.
Penelope laughs delightedly at Cil's approval of the Good Stuff. "Excellent — was a group effort, putting together the right mix of reagents for that brew. Everyone make sure to kiss the runners — they also helped set up. Oh! An' Cappella's stuck in the galley, at least for the time being, but he's responsible for the cooking — so make sure to salute the good, bald gent when y'see him, as well!" She hands a plate to Aurola, inviting the scientist with a gesture to partake of the spread. "I'm Penelope, luv. Nice to meet you." She ducks under the tables and drags out a cooler of ice and bottled water, handing one over to Cidra. "Here you are, sir. Enjoy!"
Malone remains near the door for now, as he hasn't moved to get further into the room at the moment. Just looking around, a bit thoughtfully.
Even Sofia is smiling. She smiles more at the mention of Cappella, one of her bosses. She's inching over carefully, watching and observing. Seems she's been a bit out of this socializing business. She looks to Malone and smiles politely. "Hello there. If I met you, I've forgotten," She admits sadly. "I feel really small here," Headtilt. "… are you hungry too?"
Old habits die hard…so, Cilusia isn't shy about using her mouth to clean off her fingers once she finishes that rib. The sauce is too good to let it go to waste on a napkin! That paint thinner is pretty strong, and it's not too too long before it starts to cause her belly to get delightfully warm. The less she eats and the more she drinks, the quicker it'll work, so she drinks down the rest of what's in her glass from the first refilly with a few great swigs. That's the only way to drink this stuff; you'll never get it down if you sip! "Whoooo, almost like being home on Scorpia!" she exclaims! Almost. But not quite. Has to be about 90 degrees F and super steamy.
Aurola looks at Penelope and nods her head, "A pleasure." She nabs a piece of chicken from the plate with two fingers and nibbles on it carefully, working to shape it into a square. "Nice little party here, it seems," She adds to Penelope while she enjoys the chicken, being careful not to talk with her mouth full.
Malone pauses a bit as he hears someone speak near him. Keeping quiet for a few moments longer, he offers a bit of a smile, "Hello." A brief pause again, before he introduces himself, "Tommy Malone." Going quiet for a few moments, as he considers that last question. "Not yet. I have a feeling I'll be in a little while, though."
"My thanks," Cidra says as she takes the bottle of water with a nod to Penelope. And one in greeting to Sofia as well. "You are both among Captain Gabrieli's snipes, yes? Do give Dominic my best when you see him next. I have meant to tell him he does most excellent work." No specifics on said work are offered. She gets to eating.
Penelope points across the room at Malone. "Oi, you!" She smiles. "No wallflowers. Come over here an' have a drink. Sofie, same goes!" Her smile for the 3M officer is even broader, punctuated with a wink. "Hope it goes well," she nods to Aurola, keeping an eye on the people coming or going like a vigilant hostess. "Beltane's a big hoo-hah where I come from. I'd like to get Hecate and Demeter smiling, along with the rest of the boat."
Alessandra comes in, lured by the scent of food which has managed to pretty much fill the entire deck with the perfume of meat and deliciousness. She doesn't go to mingle, Lucky instead going to seek out something to eat.
"I see. I'm Sofia Wolfe. Pleased to meet you," Sofia offers politely. "It does smell really nice and I get a happy feeling in the air," She looks up to see around the people.
Quinn steps quietly, almost a bit shyly, into the room. Captain Margaret Quinn is hardly recognizable in a civiliand dress no one before has ever seen on this ship save one man having purchased it. And it seems a good purchase, the light emerald satin hugging Maggie's body like a second skin in completely vintage style. She's got her hair pinned up in a casual twist, red curls spilling out the back, and has managed to steal a bit of lipstick from someone. In her right hand she's carrying a case, something that looks like a musical instrument. A violin, perhaps?
Aurola nods her head and smiles before she replies, "I'm academically famaliar with the custom." She grins lightly, as she reaches down to steal her own bottle of water, twisting the cap to drink it.
"I see. I'm Sofia Wolfe. Pleased to meet you," Sofia offers politely. "It does smell really nice and I get a happy feeling in the air," She looks up to see around the people. She nearly wobbles back into Quinn and - eep. She turns red. "Hello there, sir. Sorry." She moves out of the way after greeting Quinn. And lo! No wallflowers. A deep blush. "Sorry. I'm still getting back into the swing of things," She admits. "It's kind of you." She definitely seems to pick up on the idea and carefully inches towards the table. "I gave away all my civilian clothes or I'd have my black opera dress." Sadface.
"I'll absolutely do that, sir," Penelope responds to Cidra. "I'm sure he'll be glad of the praise." And she turns to greet Alessandra as she pilot approaches the tables. "Glad you could come! The Good Stuff is in the purple jug, the other pitchers're sweet tea and there's bottled water in the cooler there." She looks around for an instant, eyes caught by Quinn's entrance in the amazing dress. "Fiddle!" she gasps, delighted. But here's Sofia coming closer, and that deserves a hug. "You look lovely in whatever, luv. It's more a 'come as you're comfortable' thing."
Malone nods a little bit, "Good with a happy feeling once in a while," he offers, with a shrug, before he offers a nod to Alessandra. He then notices Quinn's entrance and offers a bit of a grin now. "Wish I had a camera," he offers to her. "Nobody will believe this sight…" Spoken a bit lightly.
"Lucky. Splash." The pair of Viper pilots are noted with another of those faintest of faint smiles from Cidra. A turn of her head at Quinn enters as well. If she's surprised at the quite different-than-norm appearance of the woman, it doesn't show overly. But her smile does lengthen a notch. That violin case is eyed curiously. Intrigued, she is.
Quinn smiles a bit more, blushing suddenly rather noticably under her freckles…"This… this is what happens when you let Bootstrap shop for you… birthday present two years ago. Figured I should wear it once, at least…" She admits with a still slightly awkward clearing of her throat. This is definitely out of her usual range of things. She smiles to Sofia, "As you were, relax…it's a party…" And then to Penny, nodding to the case. "Indeed. I thought if we wanted something live for a song or two, I'd bring it…"
Cidra isn't the only one scoping Quinn's entry with the violin case. Cilusia, off just sort of doing whatever there in the most open places of the observation deck stops and eyes it with a little grin. She's never met Quinn before, so the chances that she'll be able to put bow to strings and play some of the songs that Cilusia has in her head (being Scorpian stuff) is pretty low. Even so, she saunters on over to Quinn, bobbing her head to the music coming through the speakers at the moment. "Heya…I don't think we've ever met. Name's Cilusia…from down on the deck. What sorta stuff can you play on that thing? Anything real folksy? Traditional? Know any Scorpian folk stuff?"
Lucky waves to Penelope and Cidra both, smiling. "Hi! Oh, I can't stay," she comments to the former with a regretful frown. "But wanted to try to be social." Which is still difficult for her. Quinn and the others are greeted with a nod and wave. "Wow. Becoming quite the party. Would you excuse me, please? Got to get something to eat before my stomach goes on strike."
Blush. Oh dear, a hug! Sofia will return it if given one. "Thank you," She murmurs softly. "And I know. I just feel silly now that all I have is really this," Grin. "She's pretty, she looks like one of those ladies of the water or fields." A faerie perhaps? A shrug at that. She nods at Malone. "Sorry, I am a Crewman." All these… officers is a bit intimidating! Not that she dislikes them, it's just a bit different to actually mingle a lot. She is pleased all things considered and will take her turn getting some food.
Penny gapes a moment. "Kal bought that for you?" she asks, laughing. "The lad has taste! Who knew? You've got to be Quinn, aye? I'm Penny, and you look amazing." She claps her hands. "I'm over the moon you brought your fiddle. Any time the mood strikes you — just take up a spot and play your heart out!" She hands Lucky a plate, gesturing to the spread. "Please, eat — glad to have you, however long you can stay."
"You look lovely, Maggie," Cidra says. Using the woman's first name with no trace of hesitation. There's a slightly more relaxed look about the CAG than usual this evening. Perhaps it's just the holiday. Can't be the booze, as she's only sipping water. Another look at the case. "I did not know you played."
Quinn's eyes flicker to the unfamiliar snipe, probably having seen Cilusia a time or two before, but never having been introduced she smiles, shifting the fiddle case into her other hand so she can shake the woman's palm, "Cilusia? A pleasure…I'm Captain Margaret Quinn, but Maggie is just fine off duty. And… probably not much from Scorpia, but definitely traditional songs…" She rather noticably leaves out her callsign, especially since the 'Jugs' are quite on display tonight. She then smiles blushing to Sofia, "Thanks…" And a chuckle is given to Penny, nodding, "Yes… Kal gets lucky once in a while with his taste in things… don't let it go to his head, though. She then looks over to Cidra…"Since I was young… but… not in a long while. I'm probably rusty. Kal…" She smiles, shaking her head…"This was his birthday present to me. He actually went to my home while on leave and picked it up after my father passed away… kept it a secret this whole time, the bastard."
Malone keeps quiet for a while longer. Starting to move further into the crowd, after a nod to the CAG. Not saying much to anyone at the moment, though.
Penelope smiles at Quinn, taking a sip of her drink. She breathes in through her nose, out through her mouth. "Gods, I make a good drink," she mutters to herself with satisfaction. "Maggie, then. Cheers!" she lifts her cup. "Nice to meet you." She chuckles at the tale of the fiddle coming back into Quinn's possession, her smile fond. "He can be a good lad, when he wants to be."
"Surprisingly good. When he wants to be," Cidra remarks as to Trask. A little dryly, but his gesture to Quinn obviously touches her, so she'll not bust the ECO in any manner tonight. "Rusty? Phah. I do quite doubt anyone will care. There has been too little opportunities for any sort of merriment in these last days."
"Thanks." Alessandra's plate and her gratitude drift on as she does, the food given a once over before she starts to pile it on. Been ages since she has had any kind of real appetite and it shows in how she serves herself enough for two people. Yes, she is definitely hungry. Once sufficiently served she sits down somewhere where she can tuck into her supper without having to explain her lack of manners to anyone.
"Yeah man!" Cilusia chirrups to the conversation. "Let's hear you play something! Get that bad boy out and play us something dancable! Nothing like a little live music to go along with the food and drink. That'll get them dancing I bet!" Cilusia gives a single little hip-snap, and sneaks back to the table for another refill!
Quinn looks between Cidra, Penny and Cilusia, a hint surprised about all the reactions, but since she's being asked she simply smiles…"Guess it's the least I can do, Kal lugging this thing all over creation for the last half a year… might as well use it…" Maggie steps to the side, moving to the corner where the music is being played from and setting her case down there. She kneels, skirt flaring out around her legs as she opens the case and begins to ensure the strings are all tight and ready. They are. She checked before she left. Standing quietly, she lounging leans against the wall with just the backs of her shoulder blades, almost looking casual as she puts the old fiddle to her shoulder and chin and begins in slow… but it doesn't last. Soon the reel is breaking out fast and hard. Maggie just goes. It's like breathing… she did it so long and so often as a child. She knows the music in her blood. And it sure as hell doesn't match that Caprican accent she puts on.
Penelope darts over to the sound system and kills the music, clearing the air for Quinn's wild reel. She sets her drink aside and bounces on the balls of her feet, then heel-toe, heel-toe — dancing in place, then spinning around to look for a partner. This is obviously her kind of music, and she doesn't mean to waste a note.
Cidra goes to find a place on the blankets to watch Quinn play. Her food's put away by now, but she still sips on her water as she listens. If she's surprised by the woman's ability when it comes to Aerilon music, it doesn't show. Beyond a faint upward crook of her brows. The beat obviously isn't one familiar to her but, after a little toe-tapping along, she finds it. Heel-toe, heel-toe, much like Penelope's doing, though she's not so much looking for a partner as just getting a sense of the rhythm.
Much like Cidra, Cilusia is hanging out, bobbing her head, and trying to find the beat. It's not totally alien to her, but it's definitely not the type of folk stuff she grew up listening and dancing too. Music's music though - the universal language! Everyone can communicate through music. So first she's bobbing her head. Then she's tapping her foot, heel-toe heel-toe in her boots, clunky though they may be. Penelope catches her eye, and so Cilusia heel-toe heel-toes on over in that direction! "Hey…looks like you know what's going on with this music! What's this dance all about?"
Evandreus drifts in along with the next wave of partygoers. No, he doesn't know the dance, but he sure know the musician, and he ambles to a halt not too far from his first entrance in, watching his mum with a smile that grows wider by small degrees the longer he watches and listens.
Quinn has her eyes shut now. It's just about the music at this moment… Forget the too tight dress, the end of civilization… everything. It's the scent of hay in her nose, wooden boards under her feet, her heel clapping hard against the metal deck as she keeps a fast, running beat, fingers dancing quick across the fiddle. Definitely not a violin. People don't treat violins like that, plucking them hard, rubbing them raw, loving them rough. She doens't even quite notice Evan yet, just lost in getting out the Aerilonian reel… something made for summer twilights and bonfires.
Malone has gotten hold of some food, and is eating it, listening quietly to the music. Keeping silent.
"Well, if you're dancing by yourself, it's about the feet and only the feet — sometimes the legs. Hips stay still," Penny grins at Cilusia. "Right foot front on one and two, back on three and four. Then switch. Body's straight up and down — sort of like a… a pogo stick!" She laughs as she demonstrates, footwork fast. "An' if you really want to get creative — " she throws in a kick, bringing her leg up and bent on one, kicking it out on two, three back down, four switch feet. And SPIN, switch feet. She's having herself a marvelous time, by the look of it.
Cidra turns to watch Penelope's dancing explanation to Cilusia. Right foot, switch…pogo stick? She tries a few more of the foot movements experimentally. She hasn't a bad sense of the beat. Or any real inclination to shake her hips, which seems a plus for this particular dance. "I have not tried a reel in ages," she says.
The top heavy engineer of DOOM! And let's see- evil costumes some how look more evil with boobs. Call it mammarial malevolence enhancement if you will- she'd look more malevolent on fire, but fire burnses us really. But either way, Sofia is neither on fire, cackling and tossing sinners into a pit or hunting down souls this evening. She's contentedly noshing and watching the dancing, "Sometimes I wish I could trade opera singing for dancing," She admits with a grin. The engineer is happily near the door watching. She pauses, looks to her foot and tries a little foot wiggle though, experimentally.
"Oh," Evan enunciates softly, barely audible over the music, as someone else entering in his wake gives him an elbow for all his stopping to stare. But all's well— there's booze to see to, after all. And food— of course, it remains to be seen whether the Bunny will be enticed to nibble on anything. He keeps an eye on the people learning the dance steps, but doesn't join in. Not while still sober, anyhow.
Enter Tisiphone, replete in her finest Beltane Barbecue finery — which is to say, she's in the same off-duty fatigues she wears any other time she's off-duty. Poor, poor shore-duty-attire-less pilot. Sleet-blue eyes glimmer with anticipation as she enters the room, though, and takes her first dee-ee-eep breath of the savoury air. She's carrying an opaque squeeze-bottle with her, the same she takes to the gym. Lords only know what's in it.
Late to this party, Zosime is still a little mussed up and dirty from her shift. Quickly, she managed to change out of her Deck outfit and is in a more normal outfit. Though she looks tired, she simply could not miss a Beltane celebration. As a fellow Aerilon, it's an opportunity she certainly wouldn't want to miss. Entering just about the time that Quinn starts in on her music, it makes the blonde woman grin. Though she's barely in the door and haven't even had any BBQ yet, she closes her eyes and tries to think of herself back home. It's both easy and hard to do. This is certainly not Aerilon, but the music and the smell of cooking makes it easier than it normally would be. She's not going to join in on the dancing just yet, but she will partake in the nostalgia it invokes with her.
Marko makes his entrance while the barbecue is in full swing, looking freshly showered and in clean fatigues. Beneath his left arm is tucked a clear glass bottle with the distinctive green swirl of Ambrosia waiting with. One sniff of the food on display's enough to make him double time it towards the chow line, but first, he places the bottle on the drinks table.
Penny nods her approval at Cidra, flushed and beaming. "You got it! That's just it!" She catches Tisiphone's entrance on a spin, loosing her footwork for a moment, laughing as she almost trips over her own feet. She's delighted to see the young pilot, it appears, lifting a hand high to wave. "Tis! Glad you could come! Try the purple jug!" She sagenods, then leaps back into the dance.
For the first couple of cycles of the dance, Cilusia watches Penelope lead the way. While she watches, she mimics the moves partially, getting down the pattern. When the whole thing starts over again, she jumps in, right alongside Penelope. She leaves herself a good amount of room…mostly to improvise on the kicks. What she winds up doing looks like some weird mix of Aerilon folk dancing mixed with her own habitual folk dancing…which is to say, she keeps most of the foot tapping action, but adds a good bit more hip-shaking to it as well, spinning giving a little hop spin here and there!
Rejn doesn't so much walk through the hatch as belly up to said hatch. Hard on the heels of Miss Baldie over there comes the ship's very own gadfly. His suit's clean for once, having been dry-cleaned after its recent unfortunate run-in with an upended handle of rum; his tie, unfortunately is as rumpled as ever. And lest it be said that the civilians share none of their luxuries, the portly fellow has brought not one but two gifts: a magnificent pair of cigars sticking out from his left breast pocket, fresh and uncut. Down the stairs he goes, running pudgy fingers through his receding head of hair. And spoken as a perfunctory question to everyone he passes is his usual boisterous greeting: "How the frak you doing, boys?"
Quinn's eyes finally open, not quite losing herself in the memory any more, but she keeps the reel going, double backing on itself a few places to repeat a chorus again and again so those learning the step can easily have a chance to actually dance before things end. A hint of sweat touches her brow, making her red hair frizz out a bit from the twist, but the lovely frocked fiddler plays on. SHe smiles as she sees Evan, giving him a bit of a reassuring wink, but she can't stop grinning to see so many of the crew actually step dancing… It almost IS like home.
A smile then - the 'stache. Sofia's eyes go wide. Uh oh. She smiles politely to him though. "You look well today. I am alright, but I have to tend to something quickly," Sofia inches towards the door. Probably a head call.
Evandreus keeps his distance from the grub, though he arcs a little bit inward toward a piece of cornbread, at length, seeming to consider it innocuous enough. Things slathered in sauce get eyed in a suspicious fashion and given a wide berth. And speaking of a wide berth, he barely gets the bit of bread to his lips before he's lowering it to his hand/plate again and calling out, "Rejn!" in greeting. Looking glad enough to see the guy. Though he might be one of the few on the ship glad to do so.
Rachel finally slips in, looking freshly washed and smelling like soap and Sickbay's antiseptic. The smell of food hits her though and she grins, brightly, not like many people have seen her do since before the boarding happened.
Cidra places her hands on her hips, posture straight, and steps forward so she can add some kicking to her attempts at dancing. And her feet do move as if they were schooled for such things, even if this particular reel is new to her. Right front, back. And left. Kick. Spin. And repeat. Dark hair flying around her face as she whirls. She doesn't quite do it with abandon. She's concentrated on doing it correctly. And it's questionable whether the woman ever does /anything/ with abandon. But there's a slightly wider grin her face than usual as she moves through the steps and swift turns.
"Sure those aren't fake, Miss Chesty?" Rejn chortles to himself as he passes Sofia en route to the food, his belly quivering slightly with the effort. "Flatbread." That's for Tisiphone — "And there's the genius I came all this way to ignore in favor of all this godsdamned meat." Evandreus gets a wide smile and an outstretched hand as Rejn parts the crowd to join him by the food line. "Godsdamn, boy, planning to eat some real food? Man can't live on shitty cornbread mix alone." And real food is what Rejn's about to get, reaching for a pair of corn dogs he places between the knuckles of his left hand over the protests of the apprentice in charge of distribution. "Keep on fighting the good fight," is the civilian's sage advice to that poor embattled girl. "Zeus' massive cock, Doe. You'd think she doesn't want me to take seconds."
"Yeah, it was nice when I didn't have to wear architectural supports," Sofia replies easily, obviously accepting now that Rejn is never going to drop that nickname. "On the upside, if the ship crashes, I'm totally going to float." Grin. And she meanders off.
"I'll be back!" Penelope announces to the women dancing with her, after a quick look at the tables of food. A thing or two might need replenishing. And so she bounds over to the spread, stepping all the way. "Welcome!" she cries to the folks who're just now helping themselves. "There's bottles of water in the cooler over there, for anyone who doesn't want sweet tea — and the Good Stuff's in the purple jug." She turns to a couple of her volunteers, Ensign Truman and Crewman Capote. "Lads, can you ask Cappella if we can get more ribs down here in a hurry? And more tea — lot's more tea." 'Cause lo, she's about to spike another jug of the Good Stuff. Can never have to much of that. "Oi, let the man eat!" she admomishes the stingy hyper-viglant apprentice, cheerfully. "Cappy's in his glory fixing this stuff up, I promise. It's here t'consume."
Marko not knowing the first thing about Aerilon folk dancing, besides that it's a form of dancing and, apparently, from Aerilon, finds a quiet spot to enjoy the music for a few moments. Gods, but it's a nice break from the usual endless, mindless routine they've been enduring for what feels like years now.
If Cidra is focused on getting things right and not dancing with abandon, Cilusia is quite the opposite! She's hardly going about it in the right way, but she's super enthusiastic. End result? It definitely gyrates a heck of a lot more than the traditional dances call for. In addition to the feet going, she gets her arms and hands involved, making boxes and windmills and all sorts of fun stuff!
Evandreus lifts the square of cornbread up toward his mouth again, keeping his other palm flat underneath for the catching of crumbs as he—- nope, just sniffs at the thing, as if trying to determine the accuracy of Rejn's diagnosis. But he smiles as he does so, shuffling back along the line to take up a spot at Rejn's side and setting the cornbread on his hand again as the rotund civilian gets into it with the person so kindly manning the table. "One's for me," he explains to her, kindly-voiced, then, looking at the actual food item in question, he gives it an uneasy appraisal, "But, uh… you can have it," he offers, cheeky, to Rejn.
Rachel is making a beeline for the foodline when she hears someone mention Cap's name and turns, grinning, "Cappy never told me he cooks. Damn, all this time I've been bunking above him and no idea what he could do." She reacches for some ribs, popping one in her mouth immediately, sucking off the meat and sauce.
If there's meat, there's Marine— errr. Well, Lunair is arriving. She smells shower fresh, with her newest scarf - a silken purple thing. Her hair is slowly coming back, but it's in that awkward stage where she either resembles a German composer on a bad day or a bird growing new feathers. Yikes. But she smiles, hearing the sounds and smelling the food. Daw. And Rejn, "Sir." She greets him in passing. But soon she spots Marko and turns red. Uh oh.
The emerald clad musician is slowly bringing the reel to a close, almost breathless herself, arm working dangerously fast as she pulls it into the feverish final measures that just turn into almost constant, unending sound and rhythm before abruplty cutting off. Maggie then smiles, exhaling shallowing, as she flashes a flushed grin to the room… It's been too long since she did that.
"Well, I certainly don't," Zosime asides to Rejn to his comment about seconds as she finally makes her way toward the buffet. The nostalgia that hit her when she listened to Quinn play has slightly edged to the side and she finds that she could certainly it some good home-cooked food through the lump in her throat. And, in fact, her stomach will certainly insist upon it. "Leaves more for the rest of us." Piling her plate with some sides as well as the BBQ this was meant for, she takes a deep breath, smelling the spices. "Almost like home," she sighs.
Penelope smiles brightly at Rachel. "You're Cap's bunkmate? I'm Penny — another snipe. Aye, I didn't know he cooked either, but I'm glad I found out! This is all his remarkable doing, and he's opted to be chained to the kitchen for the evening… so when you see him next, be sure to kiss the cook, aye?" She produces a row of mini booze bottles from beneath the tables, decanting 2/3 sweet tea into the near-empty jug labeled "The Good Stuff" and then upending all five little bottles above it. Glug, glug, glug. "There…" she gives it a little stir. "That should do it." She turns and applauds lustily for Quinn's playing, pausing only to stick her thumb and forefinger in her mouth and whistle loudly. WOOT!
Cidra step-step, step-step, spins once more as the reel draws to a close. Coming to a stop with a toss of her hair, hands still on hips. Breathing a little hard. She exchanges a smile with Quinn, and a little bow that would probably look more graceful were she in a skirt and civilian shoes rather than her off-duties. But she manages it in any case. With that she fades back to the tables. More water will be gotten before she takes her leave of the party.
Marko gets a glimpse of a familiar purple scarf and grins, blushing ever so slightly as he spots his favorite Marine. "Hey you." he mouths, not bothering to try and yell over the music, waving her over.
"Watch it, Blondie." Rejn's high tenor rasps out the first pejorative that comes to mind — but rest assured, Zosime, that he's more than capable of coming up with a better one. "Actually, don't watch it. Good gods, woman, eat and get some cushion for that pushing." Like he's got, see? That clean suit Rejn's wearing isn't going to be clean any longer if he keeps this up. Bits and pieces of deep-fried cornmeal cling to his slightly yellowed teeth and the bristling hairs of his moustache, the latter of which he fixes by wiping it with his sleeve. A faint sheen of grease seeps into his beige sleeve as he jabs Evandreus with a thick elbow, belly-laughing all the while. "That's the spirit, son. Milk this shit like Pop's prize cow, is what I say." More munching means he doesn't get a chance to correct the blushing Marine — but really, who can blame him? Such is the allure of deep-fried food. And in between massive mouthfuls: "Anything exciting in the world of Raptors?"
Rachel answers Penelope, laughing brightly, "I'll keep that in mind! I love to cook to, but this is pretty incredible. Tell him if he needs help time I'll chip in, haven't cooked for a crowd in far too long!" She looks around, listening to the music and watching the dancers and something strikes her, Rachel softening a moment, smiling to herself a moment before snapping back into the present and laughing, "I'm holding up the line."
Malone has been in a corner, just listening to the music, and all that. He looks around a bit thoughtfully, shaking his head a little.
Tisiphone, aka Flatbread, wends her way toward the lines of food. Between the music and the cacophany of voices, she's content to stay silent as her namesake would be. She's also content to try and work her way into the chow lineup from the long way around — not-so-coincidentally putting her out of Rejn's line of sight. As she walks, she drinks a mouthful of whatever-it-is out of her squeezebottle, setting her teeth against it for a moment.
As the reel comes to an end, so too does Cilusia's haphazard twirling and mostly improvisational dance. She's all smiles though, having worked up a little sweat; a few stands of that frizzy mane stick to her forehead and neck, which she wipes off with her arm. "Phew! That was fun! It's been a while since I've had anything good and lively to dance to! Not exactly 100 percent my style, but fun nonetheless!" Humming a little more of it to herself, she returns to the table for some second helpings…going for a slightly larger pile of those ribs and some cornbread to mop it up with. It's a rather intimidating heap that she piles onto her plate for someone her size to tackle, but she looks intent on doing just that!
It IS a Marko. Lunair's smile gets a bit dopey and relieved, but she scoots over towards him. She smiles in passing to Tisiphone too. A little fingerwave. "Hello there," She nods to Marko. "How are you? Glad to see him, she is!
"Nice to meet you!" Penelope says to Rachel as the latter moves along in the line. She hands Tisiphone a plate as the pilot arrives — it's already piled with meat and more meat. "Feel free to add to that as you will, but… y'strike me as a carnivore." She grins.
"Hello back." Marko replies, starting to get a little dopey smile of his own. "Doing good, doing good." he adds. "How've you been? Haven't seen you in days." he says, frowning a little with disappointment. "Quite a set up, here, isn't it?"he comments, gesturing slightly at the indoor barbecue and picnic. "Good to see everyone happy for a change."
Quinn sets her fiddle down quietly, keeping the case near the music, just incase she decides to go back later, which she probably will. she protectively shuts the case, though, and turns to put the ambient music back on before striding towards the peeling off dancers, a smile given to Cilusia…"If ya kin get me some music from yer home, I can probably improvise it out…that's just what I know from growin' up." Oh goodness, Maggie's Caprican accent is -gone-… All Aerilonian after that. The down home words don't match her too-pretty dress, but her smile is brilliant..
Evandreus is near to nibbling off a corner of the square of cornbread, unable to be any more the opposite of the fellow he's lurking by in table manners. But then he's elbowed, and he takes a moment to laugh out an, "O-ww!" and then shout out his approbation to his mum in a raucous Leontinian fashion not unlike a howl. Then, back to Rejn, eyeing the crumbs in his moustache almost as if it were adorable, then looking up into the guy's eyes again. "Oh, y'know. Going strange new places. Getting shot at by strange new people. Cubits!" he calls out as he, at least, spots her. Though it ruin all her plans— the Bunny certainly has no notion.
Rachel goes over towards Malone, joining, waving at him as she carries her plate of food. "So… you Aerelon?" she asks.
Malone pauses a bit at Rachel's words, "Hmm?" he offers after a few moments of pause. "Hello."
There's a quick but wolfish-wide grin aimed by Tisiphone at Penelope — immediately followed by a sort of 'oh, frak' expression as the plate of meat's handed to her. "Uh. Ah," she says, hurriedly — there's people waiting behind her — as she looks from it, to Penny, then back again. Some sort of love-hate issue with the food in front of her. Awkward. She bullies past it, rebolstering her grin. "Thanks! Get out from behind there sometime tonight, hey? Catch you in a bit." With that she moves on, snagging nothing else but some collard greens and some cutlery, before doubling back and heading over to the terrible twosome of Evan and Rejn.
"Just looking for someone else who recognises this, all; of it," Rachel answers, gesturing around her. "I was born there, guess I'm from there you'd say though my parents movced around a lot."
"Hmmmph?" is Cilusia's response to Quinn…as she's currently in the process of messily nomming down on a rib. When she finishes the current mouthful, and prior to wiping her mouth, she grins at Quinn. "Well, unless someone's got some Scorpian sheet music laying around, the best I can do is sing it to you or something like that. You any good at figuring out music just by listening to something?"
"I know, I've missed you," Lunair admits quietly. She seems saddened by his frown, but nods. "It looks fantastic and smells nice. Did you want to get some?" Food. "I'm off shift a bit so … I can stay if you like," She smiles at Marko. She's glad for the company in a quietly joyful way and the atmosphere is positively infectious too.
With a raised eyebrow at Rejn's comment about her wait, Zosime only piles on some more chicken. While she doesn't doubt he has meaner things he could say to her, she'll take Blondie comment as opposed to anything else. "I've got enough for me," she tells him. "And you seem to do well for yourself, too!" But, she's already glancing to the side where she sees Evandreus and gives him a smile and a wave. While she hasn't really spoken to the ECO before, the last mission she was involved in makes her feel like she can greet the man in a friendly manner. "You're not from Aerilon, either of you." It's more of a statement than a question.
Penelope watches Rachel join Malone for a moment, tilting her head as she observes his greeting, such as it is. She glances at Crewman Capote (just returning from the galley with more ribs) and asks, "I swear, that lad's a little spacey, innit he? You suppose he's autistic? Pilot savant?" Capote shrugs; so does Penny. "You lads got this? I'm gonna mingle." She takes up her drink, girded for battle.
Quinn smiles warmly to Cilusia, shrugging her mostly bare shoulders a bit. "I can try? I… I haven't really tried my hand, but if you want to teach me some day, I'll be more than happy to learn, Cilusia." She then looks at the food line, her stomach audibly rumbling somewhat…"For now, though, i think I might actually try the food and some booze… I need to be drunker to play a proper reel."
"Now ain't that the frakdamned truth, girl, though you'd need to eat a few more burgers before you get a ride on the Rejn Train. And — Doe, darling — since when did the Cylons become people?" Rejn finishes off the first of his two corn dogs, chucking the paper dowel at its center into the trash can somewhere Over There. He doesn't really look to see if he hits or misses — but judging from the apprentice's outraged cry, chances are that it's the latter. "Unless you ran into some prick of a deputy assistant undersecretary of homeland security while driving your school bus in Cylon airspace," the man amends, a brash and easy smile on his lips. "Leonis, right?" NOM NOM goes Rejn, starting in on his second meal, as innocent and ignorant as he can be. His unoccupied hand plucks a rib dripping with barbecue sauce from Tisiphone's plate, which he uses as a paintbrush of sorts to lend additional belly-bursting flavor to the second of what will assuredly be several helpings. "Thank you kindly, Washboard. Be a dear and get me some lemonade? Shit's saltier than a horse's favorite lick."
"Yeah, missed you too." Marko smiles. "How's things in Marine country?" he asks, then comments. "Food?" Marko echoes, peering at the woman curiously for a heartbeat before pulling one of the stupider faces he's likely to make in his lifetime. "Oh..yeah, food." Yes, dipstick, _that_ stuff! "Absolutely." he grins. "Just off CAP, myself and missed lunch, so, eh, yeah…pretty much starving at the moment." he says. "I missed you too, just in case I didn't say it before."
Penelope glances sidelong at Rejn as he does, indeed, miss the trash. But she simply dips down and picks up after him, shaking her head at irate apprentice with a faint grin. She hands the apprentice a drink and gives him a little shove towards the party proper. "Why don't you take a little break, luv?" Before a plate of something gets upended on their esteemed guest's head. She can see it coming. She steps out to meet Quinn as the fiddler/pilot approaches the queue, handing her a drink. "Some well deserved libations — that was absolutely mighty!"
"They go," Lunair smiles back at him and nods. "How is crazy pilot business?" She asks quietly, then grins. His stupid faces are /utterly adorable/ to her. What a dork. She nods. And a smile, "Then you go first alright? I'd feel awful if you just vanished in front of me." Another blush. "Thank you." She'll start towards the table wiith him.
Malone nods a little bit as he hears that. "Well, lots of things that I don't recognize here," he replies, after a few moments of pause.
Evandreus opens his mouth and tips his head to the side, taking a breath as if about to reply, eyebrows cocked at some equivocating angle— but by then Rejn's on about something else entirely, and he lets the cylon question drop readily enough. It's a party. No cylons get to crash, even in spirit. "Mmm-hm," is all the affirmation he gives Rejn as to their most recent exploits, since who knows what all he's allowed to tell him. And he finally sets to nibbling at the cornbread. Someone take a picture.
Quinn smiles widely towards Penny, "Thank ya, luv… the party is lovely. Feels like back home…" She admits, her accent full on northern province lilt. Yes, she's undoubtedly an Aerilonian herself, especially after all that. Like her freckles didn't give her away in the first place. She smiles, accepting the drink and knocking back a good gulp of the stuff…"Mm.. Gods. Thanks… few more of these and I'll play all the way through mornin'…"
"No, no…I do have a few manners, after all." Marko says, gently maneuvering around so that Lunair's in the lead. "Not nearly so crazy as it sounds like over the wireless." he replies with a little shrug. "Which is good, I guess. Leonis recon was…interesting." he adds. "But that's been a while. Mostly just CAPs and a whole lot of nothing. Boring, yes, but a lot better than having Cylons trying to kill us."
"Get it your damn self, cupcake." So saieth Tisiphone to Rejn, sounding positively /chipper/ as she does. Chipper? She's showing a few too many teeth for the grin to be genuine, though. There's zero resistance to his ransacking of the meat on her plate — in fact, as if she's stolen notes from Evan's fastidious eating habits, she's hastily picking at the collard greens closest to the ribs in order to keep them properly separated. "Bunny," she greets the Raptor pilot, offering the fellow a much more genuine grin.
Lunair puts a finger to his lips at the mention of Recon and tilts her head towards Rejn. Civilians. "I see. You'll have to tell me about it then. Do I really even count as a lady anymore?" She laughs softly, but - apparently Marko is Lunair's one weakness and she allows herself to be put in the lead. She pauses nearing the table and gauges the best angle of attack. Ah hah, there we go. "I'm glad then, that you're safe." Nod.
"You're so welcome — it's the music makes it like home, ken. The food helps, but the fiddle — och." Penny beams, her own accent coming out strong with the drink and the reinforcement of Quinn's dialect. "I'm so delighted you came. A party's just not complete without a fiddler — an' if I can get you to play the party through, I assure you the drinks'll keep comin'!"
"Classified. Yeah, yeah, I know." This belly-busting laugh is strangely mirthless. "Really none of my business what you do on Mikey's orders, but — " Rejn pauses for still another bite, eating so quickly it's a wonder he manages to chew before he swallows: the end result of what comes from growing up in a family where you had to fight for the food on the table. "Hey, he wants to go out on his own terms, that's his prerogative. Wish could just off himself like his old XO instead of dragging the last dregs of humanity with him, that's all, and I've got nothing more to say on that." Rejn grunts as he drops still another dowel on Tisiphone's plate, caring not one whit that it lands dangerously close to said collard greens — which he judiciously ignores in favor of a sizzling bit of sausage. "See, Baldie," he says between chews. "See, this is when I'd usually make a misogynist, old-fashioned, and offensive crack about a woman's place in the grand scheme of things, but — " Narrow eyes flick up and down her figure. "I'm not sure that shit'd apply." Another magnificent laugh. "Ice cubes in that lemonade, please."
"I'll get it," Evan pipes up, just as chipper-sounding as Tisiphone, but with a genuine inkling toward being helpful. He reaches across and tucks his nibbled cornbread onto the edge of Tisiphone's plate for her to keep safe while he heads to the drinks and draws a cup of lemonade, then another, and—- just for good measure, tops his off with a smattering of ambrosia. This is Evan, breaking down gender boundaries. And as he returns, offering Rejn's drink out to him, "Here you go, dude. Hey, Cubits," he adds, "Your dance card full, yet?" he wonders, grinning all impish at her, even as he wrinkles up his nose at Rejn's comments. "He's doing the best he can, guy," Evan points out. "He's only human," he sticks up for Mikey like a good jigger, even if he doesn't sound entirely pleased, either.
Before skipping out, Cilusia makes sure to snag another strong drink, and another few bites of food. What she makes off with consist of whatever she can carry in her non drink-holding hand. With a grin on her face and a pleasantly full feeling in her belly (not to mention that lovely, woozy lightheadedness that comes from putting down those drinks in rapid fashion earlier), Cilusia slides out of the party with little fanfare.
"Is it because you know she'd kick your butt from here to the Hangar Deck?" Zosime replies to Rejn in a chipper and friendly manner. One hand holds her plate, but the other one is already covered in BBQ sauce from the chicken she's been munching on. Maybe that's the only reasons she's really been silent throughout most of the conversation. As Tisiphone appears, the deckie gives the pilot a friendly grin. Normally, she doesn't have many qualms about filching off of any one else's plate, but she has a feeling that Rejn would eat her fingers should she get them too close to her mouth. So, she takes the safe route and snatches some greens from the table nearby. "How're you?" she asks the pilot.
"So not an Aerelon at all, damn," Rahcel answers, though she flashes Malone a grin. "Liking the food at least?"
Quinn smiles wider to Penny, "Well then, sounds great. I'll keep playing as soon as I get some food in me." She gulps back a bit more of her drink and finally gets to the table, a bit closer to Rejn and Evan…"Hey hun." She leans over to steal a kiss against Evan's cheek, a fully motherly gesture, before she reaches in to make a decent plate of food. The big man and his rather derogatory comments are just given a long, skeptical green eyed look..
Marko makes his way to the serving line, nodding a little. "Right, sorry." he adds. "I'll tell you about it later, then." he adds for Lunair's benefit. "Gods, but all of this looks good." he sighs, stomach growling hungrily as he surveys the goodies. One could be forgiven for thinking he doesn't know it all came from the same galley that serves up so many thousand plates of concentrated awful a day. Apparently, having a qualified cook at the helm makes a big difference. "Anytihng exciting going on down in your neck of the woods?" he asks the female Marine. "And yes, you do still qualify as a lady." he adds. "You can just shoot better than most people."
Penny slips away from the food for a bit to queue up some more music on the sound system. While Quinn eats and gets a break, she switches up the mix a bit to lean more heavily on the Aerilonian tunes, the reels and hornpipes and jigs that seem to be popular with the crowd. Keeping the mood lively.
Scrapescrapescrape with the fork-tines, pulling the collard greens away from whatever-it-is that recently made contact with Rejn's mouth. Tisiphone scrutinizes the plate for a second. Perhaps she's waiting to see if the man's saliva will set the plate to smouldering. As she looks up, she seems to be considering some manner of bitey comment or another — until Evan takes one for the team and fetches the lemonade, instead. "Not so sure I can dance like a she-uh. Aerilonian," she says to Evan upon his return, grinning. "Caprica City club-brats to fiddle music? Think it'll fly?" To Zosime, next, her grin carried right along: "Good. Damn good. This is great, it's like the world didn't end after all. If cupcake would finish eating all these ribs off my plate, the night'll be perfect."
"Best food I've tasted in a while," Malone replies with a bit of a grin and nod. "And I guess there'll long time until the next time…" Spoken a bit more darkly.
He will; just wait. But aloud: "Only human." Rejn hasn't even had anything to drink and he's erupting in excessively loud chuckles that cause his cheeks to twitch. His funny bone's a little easier to set off tonight than usual, to the point at which the lemonade nearly spills all over his fine leather shoes. "Lords almighty, Mikey's only human. Stop the presses, stop the presses, have I got news for — " Alas, sausage interruptus. The rest of his comments are swallowed with overcooked mystery meat. "Really think she'd do that?" Rejn smiles sharply at Zosime, jabbing a barbecue-stained finger in Tisiphone's direction before following it up with a critical look the pilot's way. "You're probably right. Think she's truly got the balls, or — maybe she had the balls. Never know, these days. Miracles of modern medicine. Can't fix cancer, but by gods if you want new plumbing — " The man blinks as Doe is … kissed. "Tell me her nickname's Cougar."
"You never kknow, these holidays, they come up often enough. I'm sure we can find something to celebrate sometime" Rachel suggests, finsihing off her ribs with relish. "And you know, a good enough cook can make damn near anything taste damned good."
"Mum!" Evan calls, finagling his spiked lemonade into his other hand and sliding the former around his SL/impromptu parental figure, snugging her close to him and returning the kiss to her cheek with a pure filial piety. "Rejn, this is my mum. Mum, you've met Rejn?" he wonders, slipping the introduction in there, just in case. "It'll have to fly, Cubits. Despite my working title, I don't know how to jig," he lets her know. "We can wait for one of the club songs to come on the mix," he offers.
Malone chuckles a little bit, "Do we even need the holidays as the excuse, with the proper cook?" he asks, after a few moments of pause.
Lunair smiles, and nods. Poor Marko. She seems sympathetic. "No, not really- training and working. And I'd be glad to hear it, it sounds exciting she admits." A deep blush. "Well, I am flattered. That means a lot to hear." Her expression is genuine. And she doesn't seem to mind either. The marine could probably eat nearly anything that doesn't eat her firsts. She hands him a plate though, "Here, we can go at the same time." She grins.
Quietly, calmly, Maggie just dishes out a piece of meat, corn bread, some salad, a neat little plate for herself as she forces herself to breathe calmly and NOT lash out at the fount of stupidity that is coming from the government man off to her side. Her green eyes are growing hot, though, quiet anger stewing behind them of the sort only a red head can muster… She takes another long, slow gulp, fully finishing her drink before setting the glass down and turning to -stare- at Rejn. "…Are ye' unable ta ever stop using yer mouth between shovin' food into it and stupidity outta it?" She dares to ask, flat and sharp despite her lilting accent.
"With the rations we're on? Unforutnately yeah," rachel answers, sxrunching her nose up. "I like to cook, love food, but most days it's enough just to get somethign in and abck to work."
"Glad to hear it." Marko replies with a smile and bows a little when Lunair passes him a plate. "Ah-ha, a compromise. Nicely done." he chuckles as he starts to pick out a bit of chicken, a couple of ribs, a goodly sized bit of greens and of, course, cornbread. Even Capricans know about cornbread, despite their reputation.
Malone grimaces as he hears that, "Someone should raid a supermarket or something," he offers.
"I'll patch them up afterwards, free overtime even," racvhel answers with a wink, her plate now clean.
The accent, and the tune from before causes Zosime to smile warmly at Quinn. While she doesn't offer her hand in a shake - it's covered in BBQ sauce - she does compliment. "Your fiddling was amazing," she tells the pilot with a sincere smile. "I've been missing music like that for longer than I'd care to admit." While her accent isn't thick, it's twangs Aerilon in the right places. Tisiphone gets a continuation of the grin. "That's good to hear. Things like this…they really help somehow. Makes us all feel like we're all together somehow. Even if we're not all from Aerilon or Caprica." The sharp quip from Rejn is met with an honest nod. "Definitely. I don't think she needs balls in order to do it, either."
"Neither do I." Rejn, at least, is honest about his own capabilities. "And wait, did he just say Mum? Godsfrakit." Rejn half-snorts, half-chuckles. "Redhead's sure old enough to be yours, Doe, but I really don't see the family resemblance — unless those curtains don't match those drapes, in which case, well. Shit. That's illegal in eleven of the twelve Colonies. Can't speak for those Aerilonians. Magda went into heat after she met some Aerilonian defense attache, brought him home for dinner with me and her mother. Nice guy, if you ignore the fact that his family tree looked like a stepladder and had a few ewes here or there." A pause for breath — and to finish off that sausage. "Real pleasure to meet you, Cougar, and if you're curious about what else I can do with this mouth, you should ask Mary, except she's a bit indisposed at the moment, having been turned by the Cylons into a nice pile of carbon. So I guess you'll just have to take my word for it."
Lunair smiles at him, "I learn from the best." She winks at him and helps herself as well. Even the slightly suspicious Canceron sorts can dig it too. She does seem to favor greens and meat though. What to drink too? "It all looks good but I think the company makes it," She smiles even more. Marko is at the centre of her attention, although she blinks at Rejn and company, lifting her eyebrows. "Oh dear."
Penelope deftly threads her way back through the crowd, rejoining the folks around the food tables — but not taking up a position on the stocking/serving side, this time. She nips in alongside Tisiphone, flashing the tall, fuzz-headed girl a smile as she joins the loose circle of conversation — smile dimming fraction. By. Fraction. As Rejn keeps talking. Oi. "Charming," she murmurs, taking another sip of her drink.
"Brilliant. He's distracted," whispers Tisiphone to Zosime, sotto voce. Brilliant indeed — except now she's standing there with a plate still half-heaped with BBQ riblets with no ravenous gullet to stuff them into. She e-e-edges back a quarter-step — and lo, a Penny! "Just let it slide," she recommends to her, voice still lowered a bit. "Sound and fury."
"Thanks." Marko replies. "Was just thinking the same thing. Woudn't be the same without the company" he adds with another dopey smile. "So, iced tea, or maybe something stronger?" he asks, nodding towards the big plastic jug of 'The Good Stuff'. "Dunno who's idea it was to put ice in tea, but they deserve a medal." he grins.
"Gah— dude—" Evan squeezes his eyes shut, wrinkling up his nose as he near to grimaces. "That's my mum you're talking about," he point out, expression soured even as he opens his eyes again, looking to Rejn with an almost pleading look, soundlessly begging him to leave off. The ol' Doe eyes.
"Well, y'don't serve up booze without expecting some folks to get… colorful, aye?" Penny smiles wryly at Tisiphone's words, eyes lingering bemusedly on Rejn. She shrugs and shakes her head, then turns her attention full on the pilot — more specifically, her plate. "Oi! You've barely touched…" she tilts her head. PING! A thought occurs. "I thought for sure I'd pegged you a carnivore, luv — was I wrong?" She looks apologetic. "Y'have to forgive my over-enthusiasm to feed you — will you? It's sort of the default Aerilonian sign of affection."
Quinn has suddenly somewhat lost her appetite as the older man goes on. She stares back at him with that quiet, growing temper ever thriving behind her green eyes which seem all the sharper for the colour she's wearing tonight. "Adopted. Mother." Even if they haven't filed the paper work…and it'll never be allowed to go through…"As for age, I'd sure as hells say YOU don't have room to talk, sir… not to mention balls, considering I doubt you've seen yours over that stomach in a good decade. So I would say you owe the lady over there…" She nods to poor Tisiphone…"And myself an apology before I truly teach you a thing or two you can do with tha' mouth of yers." Maggie's clipped words are certainly NOT a flirtation… the things she will teach him probably involve losing teeth.
Malone has drifted a little through the crowd, keeping silent for now as he listens to the people present.
Lunair blushes at Marko, "Either is fine. What do you feel like? We can probably have both over the evening-" Although now she seems distracted and faintly worried by what's going on near Quinn, "Though I may have to break up a fight soon."
Somebody serves cornbread and sweet tea, and Covington shows up. It's about as predictable as duty rotations. "Ain't a proper BBQ without a breakdown in civility to go with the booze. Too bad there ain't no horseshoes. Good way to settle things." The Lieutenant has no idea what's being discussed, but tension in voices is easy to pick up on. The Petrel louie heads on through the crowd, headed for the food, a watchful eye toward the epicenter of the discussion only briefly. There's more important things — like ribs.
"Break up a fight?" Marko asks, pivoting a little to regard his now pugnacious squadron leader and Rejn for a moment before turning back. "Heh, why bother? Rejn's drunk and Quinn's got her blood up. What happens from here's pretty much in the lap of the Gods, I say." he winks.
"Hey, listen, I've got a better idea. I'll go get some more food right quick, and while I'm over there, I can try to make believe I'm deeply wounded and figure out how to look appropriately chastened. Sound good? Hey, that's great." Doe, for his part, gets a slightly apologetic smile; the rest, for better or worse, earn nothing save a shrug. But ultimately, all that sound and fury signifies — well, nothing save the fact that Rejn's stomach is growling from all the exertion talking requires. Off to the buffet line he trundles, a gaily-offered "Go dance or something!" hanging in the air, barbecue sauce trailing from the rib he just now gets to chewing.
Malone looks around the room for a few moments more, before he heads for the exit, moving a bit thoughtfully.
Lunair considers Rejn. Considers Quinn. "Yeah… that's a fight I'm not sure I want to try to break up." She'll either get whipped by Quinn or sat on by Rejn, neither a particularly desirable fate. Not witth Marko here at least. She smiles at the ECO. A shrug and she pours herself some ice tea to start with. "Want some ice tea then?"
"Not for long," Zosime mutters to Tisiphone about how distracted Rejn is. Edging along with Tisiphone in an attempt to stay away from the ensuing verbal fight and whatever may come from it, the deckie slides her used plate across the table until it finds the appropriate garbage can. That'll be handy. "So, um, I like dancing?" She adds awkwardly to the remaining group, unsure of what else to say in the aftermath. "I've heard it does good things if you don't step on people's feet. Then, it's more painful than anything else."
Evandreus tips back his half-and-half lemonade/ambrosia, either suddenly thirsty or just hoping that Bromios will lightningstrike that image from his head. "Kuuuhh," he breathes, after the big ol' cup is emptied and his eyes are appropriately dazed. Dancing? He clears his throat. "Dancing sounds like the plan," he agrees.
The mother lionness with her red mane practically puffed out now watches Rejn go. He didn't actually apologize, but he retreated, and it's enough. Maggie sighs, shaking her head slowly with a rueful chuckle as she follows Evandreus towards the dance floor. "Sorry… he's a right ass, though…" She mutters cooly, beginning to pick at the food on her plate. "Go dance…I'll watch. Just takin' a break then i'll get back ta playin'."
"Heh, yeah, both of which would ruin this party very quickly. Not to mention land me in the brig." Marko replies, snagging glasses of iced tea for himself and Lunair. "Now all we need's a place to sit."
Penny drains the rest of her drink as well, perhaps having a mini-celebration at the de-escalation of tensions since Rejn disengaged. She makes wide-eyes and blows out. Stuh-RONG drink. Woo! She glances at the spread, where food levels are dwindling in some key areas again. And her volunteers? She gave them leave to go play. "Balls," she mutters with a wry smile. "I niced m'self right out of help." She excuses herself, saying to Quinn, "Got to go check on a few things in the kitchen, Mags. Try not to sprain your hand on the drunken loudmouth, aye? You've got more sets to play!"
"Tch, no need to do that for me," Lunair smiles at him. "Thank you though," She seems to come to grips with the fact that her occupation has likely lowererd her average lifespan considerably. Not that she would /say/ that for fear of worrying Marko. "Hmm, how about over there?" A less dancerfilled part of the room.
Covington pauses, mid loot of the food table, and glances over as the situation yonder diffuses itself. "People ain't drunk enough," she observes, probably to herself, before stacking a hunk of cornbread atop a stack of ribs. Proper BBQ etiquette demands a veritable jenga tower of victuals.
"Perfect." Marko grins, "Lead the way, Marine." he says, balancing his plate as best he can as he makes his way behind her.