| Book Club Meeting |
| Summary: | Pallas starts a weekly book club! No, it's just a random meeting of people in the Library. |
| Date: | 3 May 2041 AE |
| Related Logs: | None |
| Players: |
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| Ships Library - Deck 9 - Battlestar Cerberus |
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| Post-Holocaust Day: #66 |
| Racks of books extend deep into this room, nearly darkening the overhead lights towards the back. The shelves are neatly labeled to each category with nearly everything represented here. Fiction, Sci-Fi, Romance, and everything down to comic books has been loaded up onto the shelves. A smaller research area at the back has a large table for maps to be opened-up. Nearer the door is a small library of movies that covers some of the most recent blockbusters and flows through some of the more campy movies from about two decades before. Next to the door, a Petty Officer can usually be found at a desk to help someone checkout their selections. |
| Condition Level: 3 - All Clear |
Mid-evening, and Tisiphone's staked out one of the several couches arranged before the shelving really takes over. She has a large, black-bound book opened in her lap, slightly propped up on one updrawn knee, and one arm dangles off the couch's armrest, a smouldering cigarette caught between two of her fingers.
He saw her the moment he walked into the library. And he tried to avoid her, Gods' honest truth. But Pallas' trajectory takes him in front of Tisiphone to grab a book. Is that a book on… music theory? Whatever it is, he grabs it quickly and tucks it under his arm as though trying to hide any part of it that might be read by others nearby. For once, he doesn't reek of booze or have a cigarette in his hand.
The library's becoming a popular venue, it seems, as Alessandra's arriving not much longer after Pallas does, her arms full of a book she checked out earlier, it brought here so she can read in peace. Unlike Pallas, she does smell faintly of alcohol, that being something she partook in before deciding the berths are too busy for her liking.
"How's your mouth, Sir?" This to Pallas, presumably, sleet-blue eyes lifted from the tiny print within the book Tisiphone holds propped against her knee. The words are light; the gaze…not so much. "I hear they have great dentists in the sickbay." Her eyes negligently flick back to her book, the paper rasping as the page is turned.
Plants plants plants. Lunair is on a mission. Even if she doesn't pull off the booze still and become the most popular Marine /ever/ or the tobacco plants, she's still got some sort of obligation to crank those bonsais for fruit for all she's worth. She has a couple of books under her arms: 'Get off my Lawn: Hydroponic gardening' and 'Bonsai Buddies! Love your trees!' and seems to be trundling along. Sadly, her path - in all her obliviousness, brings her to the pilots. … Huh? Huh. Blink. She looks at the little group owlishly.
"It's your mouth you should worry about, not mine, Bukkake," Pallas says to Tisiphone. But the usual sarcastic poison isn't in his voice - it's more of a warning tone, if anything. "I see they took your weapon away from you." He nods to the arm, now out of the cast. "Glad to see you've made your way back into the box office." He hasn't yet noticed Alessandra or Lunair. Not that he's even taking particular notice of Money Shot, mind - he looks more like he's just passing through.
Alessandra's gaze darts to Tisiphone and then to Spiral, something about the brief exchange getting her to stare, at first, only to then snort. She'd say something but it'd seem that the man has everything in control which leaves her able to keep from playing the heavy right now. "Spiral. Tis…" she greets the two while trying to pass around the former, a hand coming out to rest on Pallas' shoulder so she can scoot around him without losing her balance. "See you're not dropping any books tonight," she half-whispers to him with a slight smile. Not the best of jokes but it's one he should get anyhow. Lunair is seen a second later, the woman getting a nod but nothing else for now.
"My mouth's just fine, Sir. I appreciate the concern, though." Still with the brittle, too-chipper tone of someone either goaded or goading. The corner of Tisiphone's mouth twitches before she looks up again, pale brows knitted toward eachother. After a moment of consideration, pale fingertips drumming against the black covers of her book, she says, "Should be back on the schedule tomorrow. Guess it's my turn to chase Lasher's ass around hard vacuum." She glances away, grinning against her cigarette as she drags on it. "Hear you've got Daphne on yours." The last sentence brings a more serious look back to Pallas. Appraisal.
"Lucky," Pallas greets in kind, though his voice has a dry and flavorless tone that makes it less of a greeting and more of just simple acknowledgement. "Haven't been drinking… yet," Pallas answers. He glances down sharply at the hand on his shoulder, but says nothing. Instead, his look goes back to Tisiphone after the mention of Daphne, eyes hardening and brows twitching just a tiny bit lower. "That's right, Click's my wingman." He says it in such a defiant tone, leaving it open to invite any and all criticism she might have to speak. "Don't need my frakking permission," he replies blithely to Lunair without so much as looking over at her when she asks her question.
The trek that would have carried her further into the library and past where the small congregation has assembled but something gives Allie cause to pause, her hand still settled upon the man's shoulder as she looks between him and Money Shot. The tone that the two use when speaking to each other has her right brow creeping slowly upwards but, again, nothing is said about it. Not. Her. Problem. Instead, she leans in and mostly-whispers into Spiral's ear, "Let me know when you do start drinking. Will join you." That's right. She will join him. "I think it's free," she adds to Pallas' gruff reply to Lunair, then, Allie wanting to soften the sharpness it was given in. "At least I think it is. Doesn't seem to be anyone sitting there."
There's a brief look of puzzlement aimed at Lunair before Tisiphone dips a quick nod to her. "Yeah. Of course." She shifts on the couch she's stretched out on, then sits up a bit further, back wedged into the corner between backrest and armrest. Another glance down at her book, another light drumming of its page. She lifts a somewhat flinty appraisal to Pallas, the expression edging abruptly toward amusement as Alessandra whispers in his ear. After another drag on her cigarette, she'll continue. "She hasn't had anything bad to say about you yet. I'm glad you guys are meshing okay."
Pilots, pilots everywhere and not a drop of rum in sight. Lunair nods, and sits at the table next to the group. She smile a little, "Sorry." The wingmate talk is a little lost on her, but she seems sympathetic. Allie gets a polite smile as Lunair settles in to the epic 'Get off my Lawn: Hydroponic Gardening Vol. 1'. What COULD she be up to? Sneaky Marineses. She is sitting at a table near where Alessandra, Pallas and Tisiphone are. Tisiphone seems to be on a couch.
Marko slips into the library and pauses just inside to gape a little at the crowd. His air wing mates? In the _library_? And not a bottle of ambrosia or other alcohol in sight. Why, the mind positively boggles. Then he spots Tis with a cigarette and smirks to himself. "Mmhmm…Figured she snuck some kamala aboard. Gotta watch those Saggies." he comments to himself as he drops the pair of books he's returning off in the appropriate bin.
Psyche bounds in, looks around, then attempts to stealth up to the desk, a book in her arms. So far, so good — not an attendant in sight… but no! ACK! One materializes just as the poor girl is slipping her book onto the 'returns' counter. The little pilot freezes like a deer in the highbeams. "Uh." She chews her lip. "I know. It's late. It was wedged in mybunkpleasedon'thurtmegottagobye!" She haste-walks over to the small gathering, hands shoved in her pockets, shoulders hunched. "Godsfrakit, the guilt is just epic…" she stage whispers, big eyes sliding sidelong as though to ALMOST look over her shoulder. "Am I still getting a disapproving glare?"
Plenty of books here, and Kulko couldn't care less. He's got the only book he needs under one arm. It's red, it's massive, and he doesn't look thrilled to be here with it. He makes it about three meters past the hatch before he stops dead in his tracks. /Pilots./ En masse. This can't be good.
"Hm," Pallas grunts, eyeing Tisiphone with suspicion for a long moment before looking away. He's still got that Music Theory book tucked under his arm, though he's still got it pretty well covered so others around him can't see what it is. Someone can probably make out what it is, though, from the cover and the spine alone. "We've only flown a few CAPs," he says at last. And that's that. "Not until after CAP," he says to Alessandra with a slight frown. He may be a man of few principles, but he's pretty strict about not drinking before flying. And then, last of all to Psyche: "Only from me." With a disapproving glare. "Stop making my bunk smell like… woman."
Poor Kulks? Lunair apparently barely qualifies as military if the last time she met a civilian counts. She hides a smile behind her 'Bonsai BUDDIES! Lovin' your trees!' book. She tilts her head. Oh dear. Her eyebrows lift. She smiles though. Kulko gets a wave. And … MARKO! It's tough to make Air Wing jokes when - well. She seems pleased then, that things are semi-quiet and sociable. Must be a nice break. "Hello there," She offers quietly to anyone entering and passing her.
Alessandra doesn't seem to catch Tisiphone's amusement or at least she doesn't let it get to her if she does, her own expression held in a casually-neutral mask. "Come find me when your CAP is over then," she asides with a shrug. "Will probably be awake by the time you get back." Lucky picks now to slide her hand away and allow it to fall to her side along with that arm, the sudden crowd getting her nervous. New people get a faint smile and a quick nod hello but that's all she does to greet the others.
"Raine," Kulko greets with a slow nod to the other non-pilot in the room. "Hope you weren't plannin' on gettin any quiet contemplation done. Looks like they gone and switched the placards on the Library an' the rec room."
"Oh, you only know the half of it," Psyche smiles brightly at Pallas, gliding over to get a gander at the book he's carrying. She makes an elaborate pantomime at ducking around him, attempting to view the hidden title from different angles, and bending herself in half to peer at the spine upside down. Nimble little minx, in a way that's far more comic than suggestive. "At night — while you're making that noise that sounds like a chainsaw being applied to permacrete, I whisper post-hypnotic suggestions into your dreams." She perks up, straightening abruptly to peer at Pallas. "How's that been working? Are you feeling pretty lately?"
Tisiphone, wily Saggie who's definitely smoking tobacco that's not, in any way, adulterated by chamalla. It's her usual brand — some cheap-as-shit variety picked up by the cartonful before leaving Picon. She draws one leg up a bit, hooking her boot-heel against the edge of the couch-cushion, eyes flicking from Pallas to Alessandra, then Psyche. She starts to laugh as she turns her attention back to her book, the chuckling low and not particularly friendly. The sound of Kulko's voice brings her head back up, and she turns to look over her shoulder toward him. "Still chewing on that damn thing?" She points her chin toward the massive red tome he's carrying.
"You come find me," Pallas snorts. Like he's gonna go out of his way to… well, do anything, really. As he belatedly realizes that Psyche is trying to get a look at what book he's holding, he starts dodging and turning away from her. To no avail, of course - there's no way he can really cover up the book from her prying eyes. "That would explain why I woke up one morning wearing your panties and putting on lipstick in the Head," he says to Psyche with a leer. "I didn't feel particularly pretty, but a bit more eye shadow and I'm sure I would've looked it."
Marko gives a friendly half-wave to the assembled pilots and stops in his tracks upon spotting Lunair. Now how did he manage to miss his favorite Marine? Oh, right, the old 'hiding behind the book' trick. It's an effective stratagem, though, in his defense, he didn't quite make out the book's bonsai-related title, which, of course, would've been a dead give away. But, all's well that ends well, and he alters his trajectory to slip into the first chair available that's near to her. "Hey you." he smiles. "How's the garden growing?"
Psyche slaps a hand over her mouth, staring at Pallas. "Oh, wow. Was it the pair with 'Howdy, Kitten' on them? I was wondering where those went." She looks the older pilot over, appraisingly. "You might actually want to go with a little foundation with some yellow undertones — that'll help with the undereye circles. Eyeshadow would just bring out the bags." She puts her fingertips on his cheekbones, pulling his skin taut. "Does Dr. Hawk do lifts?"
Lunair is good at that. Strange for someone with an unusual feature like hers. She tilts her head and smiles. "Hello there. It goes. I'm working on the hydroponics end of it. But you know, if we figure out how to get a wine still or tobacco plant in there, we might not be able to keep people out." She winks. She seems amused by the conversation, although one eye closes a little at the idea of Pallas walkin' 'round in women's underwear. "How are you yourself? Would you like to sit down?" She offers. Kulko gets a glance too, but hm.
"Chapter Eleven, Section Three," Kulko recites dutifully as he sets the book down with a dull /thud/ on the back of the sofa beside Tisiphone. "Yaw and Roll During Close Range Fleet Engagements. Didja know a single Viper can, if unopposed, rupture the Tyllium tanks on a Valkyrie class battlestar? Blow the whole thing to Hades and back. One Viper." Lunair's attention split is paid no mind.
"Fine, Spiral," Alessandra drawls dispassionately, "I'll find you." It's getting too crowded here for her taste, the number of people here defeating the purpose of her being here. One last look is given to Pallas, Allie looking suddenly weary and as if she has the weight of all the Colonies upon her shoulders, before she turns and leaves without so much as a goodbye uttered.
"Yeah, don't mind if I do." Marko grins, settling into the aforementioned seating device with a grin. "Heh, true enough. We'll have to install it in some secret location, get some of your Marines to keep it under armed guard twenty four hours a day." he chuckles. "I'm sure you'll have no trouble finagling the schedules, seeing how you make them and all." he teases. "The key word is 'unnopposed'. JG." he remarks to Kulko's comment. "Since when do you go up against a Valkyrie class battlestar unopposed?"
"Get your frakking hands off me," Pallas says irritably, smacking away Psyche's hands from his cheeks. The old man shiftyeyes about. Too many people for his liking - when he's sober, anyhow. His lips curl in a slight sneer and he extracts himself from what's become a little gathering in the library. "Not if I disappear," he mutters under his breath after Alessandra's reply. He's really not a people person… at all. It's not long before he vanishes from the library altogether with his book.