PHD #157: Burdens
Summary: Quinn and Trask examine the human condition of being, and shouldering, burdens.
Date: 2 Aug 2041 AE
Related Logs: Up to Quinn or Evan to post it
Quinn Trask 
Pilot Berths - Naval Deck - Battlestar Cerberus
Post-Holocaust Day: #157
The battlestar's pilots call this place home. Bunks line the walls with grey curtains to cover their sleeping areas. Lockers sit between each pair of bunks and a round metal table sits in the center, furnished with simple but comfortable steel chairs. A hatch at the rear of the room leads to a communal head.
Condition Level: 3 - All Clear

Without her little nugget student around, Maggie's decided to slip across to her own berthing and maybe a shower. She's waved to Evan as he's pulled off, but seems she still has one hanger on. Her eyes turn behind her, studying Trask a bit closer. "Boots," she finally, almost more personally greets. It's been a long time since she's had a few seconds alone with her best friend.

"Jugs." It is said that time heals all wounds. This may or may not be true. Like the ebb and flow of the tide, though, Trask's moods shift. For the nonce, his usual self has surfaced, but one never knows what will rise from his depths, or when it might happen. "Still pukin'?"

Quinn shakes her head quietly. "Not so much… sometimes I smell you boys' feet and yeah… but… It's not bad," she admits simply, moving over to her bed and folding down on the edge of it. She leans over to begin unlacing her boots. She hasn't changed -too- much, but her boobs are definitely bigger and her waist not quite so defined, especially around the front.

Uninvited, Kal plops down on that very bed, laying down so his legs dangle off the side with his butt scooched towards the edge so that his head doesn't smack the bunk's back wall. Thus reposed, he folds his hands across his stomach and asks, "Since when does the smell of fresh roses make you feel sick?"

Quinn smirks, swatting at his stomach, "Funny. I don't even think I'd -remember- what fresh roses smell like any more. But Loony has some mint plants she's given me bits of… that's helped when things got messy. But… I'm fine. No worries. And how have you been?" Maggie affirms almost proudly that she's fine, a touch embarrassed about even being asked about it, like she's being a burden and she hates it.

The swatting prompts a smirk of his own. "Who the frak is Loony? And I'm peachy, apart from the carnage, betrayal, deaths, near-deaths, and assorted mind- and clusterfraks going on."

"Raine… Lunair, Marko's wife to be." There is just a -hint- of bitterness in Maggie's voice, though congratulations also. Still, if you can't be jealous around your best friend, who can you be jealous around? She frowns, reaching a hand over, rubbing fingertips up and down his arm for a moment. "Talk to me, Kal… vent, if you need."

"Ah. Officer Um." For that is how he has dubbed the Marine. If Maggie's bitter, it doesn't seem to register. Which is to say that he cracks no comment about Tillman not popping the question even though the redhead's gonna pop out the guy's kid. As for the Taurian, he appears to be rather relaxed, insofar as he can ever be. For all his grousing, it has been a relatively smooth transition into the leadership position, if one discounts the deaths of Fresh and Wank, which Trask certainly does not. Even so, he's not inclined to think about it, at the moment. "Not so much venting, Cinnabun. More like a fan. Cool."

Quinn nods in approval, "Good… so, see? I told you this wouldn't be so bad. You're a good SL… " She gives a quiet, proud smile to him, even if there is some sort of strange home sickness in her eyes for the job.

Whoa, now. That's going a bit too far. "Oh, yeah. Mountains of paperwork, 14-hour shifts, and making calls that get people killed is way more awesome than I ever imagined." Sarcastic SL is sarcastic. Switching topics, he outright asks, "So, what did you and Bun-bun fight about?"

Quinn rolls her eyes to him. "That's part of the job. And you know I'd help you with the paper work if you needed it… It's not like I've disappeared into the ether. So just knock on my bunk if you need the help. End of story." She pokes at his shoulder, smirking quietly at his complaints. She blinks at that question. "He told you we… fought? I wouldn't really call it a fight…"

"I already got a secretary," he reveals about the paperwork, "but I suppose I could use another." As for the fight, the ECO answers, "Yup. And fight is the word he used."

Quinn wrinkles her nose a touch. "You know me. I just get… Worried. Guess I'm a bit cranky these days too. I just yelled at him about signing that frakking non-resuscitation thing… told him that his family gets to decide how hard we want to fight for him, you know? Maybe that was selfish…" She still seems a bit angry to remember it, her eyes narrowing, shoulders tensing up a bit.

"Wait… what?" Blink-blink. Kal's head turns, brow furrowed. Yeah, he was told there was a fight, just not what it was about. "He signed…?" That gets the man to sit up.

Quinn nods slowly, her expression still going a bit dark. "He said he didn't want us to fight to bring him back… I… was -unhappy- about that," Maggie admits rather coldly, still a bit angry thinking of it. Between being a red head and being pregnant… unhappy happens easy.

Trask being Trask, he responds with, "Well, I'm downright pissed-off that this is the first /I've/ heard of it." So, his friends-turned-family keep him in the dark, and Medical doesn't bother to give him a heads-up as a Squadron Leader. Move over, red. Dark and brooding is taking center stage.

Quinn smirks, "I think we've got another medical privacy thing here. Hell, I probably shouldn't know… and after I reamed him out for it, he sure as hell wasn't gonna tell anyone else…" Maggie shakes her head, sighing as she tries to breathe back her temper. She sinks down to Trask's side, laying stretched out there.

Boots sits up and then Quinn lays down. Funny how that works. The explanation really doesn't appease him, though. After a long moment, he quietly confesses, "I thought we were gonna lose 'im. I'd visit every night…"

Quinn nods quietly, "I know…" Maggie did too. Hell, they often switched off taking watches at his side. Even if there were times they weren't speaking to each other, they'd make certain he was watched… She rolls onto her back, legs folded down, much as he was laying. In this position, the very faint pooch of her tummy can be seen, it's really hidden otherwise. "…He didn't want to be a burden. He doesn't get it."

"Frak. We're all burdens, even if we don't want to be. That's the human condition. Some of us simply insist upon shouldering certain ones." Resting his forearms on his thighs, Kal leans over, head dropping somewhat pensively. "Maybe it was selfish of him, but no more selfish than it is for us to demand he stay if he's adamant to give up."

Quinn sighs quietly, "I know… which is why I haven't brought it up again… and hell, I know what it is to be a burden… I guess I can't entirely blame him." Yes, there is even a brush of guilt in Maggie's voice. Probably Bunny isn't the only one feeling like a burden these days.

'Strap simply remains silent, ruminating something that remains unsaid. Eventually, he straightens, stretches his neck, then turns his head to look at Maggie's mid-section. Just like that, he starts to lift the hem of her jacket to sneak a peek at the baby bump.

Quinn blinks, startling a bit as she feels him grasping at her clothing… but then she realizes exactly what he's doing and she chuckles just a bit, a somewhat wiry smile crossing her pale face. She remains quiet, letting him peek if he wishes… should he pull up both her jacket and tanks, then he'll definitely get a show of that little pooch… not big enough to make her clothing too tight, but there… another week or two and her top button will not be comfortable to fasten.

Might as well go for the gusto. It's not like his hands are being slapped away. Fingers creep to gather tank fabric and reveal fair skin. Shifting his position so he can lean down and get a good look, he wryly advises, "You might wanna stay in there, kid. It's pretty frakked up out here."

Quinn picks her head up, looking down a moment at that faint bump. It's something she's been almost trying to ignore and yet can't entirely either. His words make her smirk. "If this kid cooks any longer than she's supposed to, I'm blamin' it on you. I'm going bug nuts already, much less in 6 more months."

"A girl, huh? You can already tell?" A glance to Quinn's face. "At what point does it stop looking like a fleshy cashew, anyway?" He doesn't wait for an answer and instead tells the tummy, "Well, if you /do/ decide to join us — although /why/ the frak you'd want to is beyond me, but, hey, not my call — your Uncle Kal will be sure to teach you how to hurt a man in his happy place." That said, the clothing is resettled and lightly patted.

Quinn laughs a bit, a slightly more relaxed sound from her than she's given as of late, "We don't really know yet… we just think. Clive's only ever had girls… seems a pattern. We'll see. And let her relax and be a baby for a little while, at least? Before you start -corrupting- her… and she's not so much a cashew as she is a… cashew with a head. And a heart."

"It's called survival skills, Maggie. Never too young to learn those. Besides, she'll likely find it fun, and isn't /that/ what childhood should be about?" Kal, of course, will be sure to start wearing a cup and strap because it's tragedy when /he/ gets knocked in the nuts, whereas it's comedy when it happens to others. As for Clive, "That's 'cuz it's not possible to pop a bun in a guy's oven." Surely, he knows she meant 'daughters'. That doesn't play for lulz, though. "Anyway, I prefer almonds." Whatever the frak that means.

"Prefer… Almonds? What the hell are you talking about? And I meant Clive's wife. He's got three daughters already, so… seems like a trend." Or he had, but Maggie tries not to think of them too much. Looking forward and not back, after all.

'What the hell do you mean what the hell I'm talking about?' would be the look he's giving, pain in the ass that he is. "Yes. Almonds. Much tastier than cashews." Which still doesn't explain much.

Quinn rolls her eyes, swatting at his hand again. "Ah, I see. Well… an almond would be uncomfortable, so I guess you'll just have to suck it up and deal. Only so much room in this belly…" Even if it was getting bigger by the week.

"And that kid can have all of it." The space, that is. With that, the man is on his feet. "Well, I'll leave you to honey roast your cashew. I have a hot date with the CAG." Briefly, he drums a beat with his hands on the metal that makes the base of his bunk. "Right." Abruptly, he stops. Offering an endearing off-kilter smile, Bootstrap bids, "Later, ladies."

Quinn tilts her head, almost looking accusing, thoughtful. "Enjoy the CAG. Tell her I said hullo. Make certain you give her a proper good night kiss!" Maggie calls after him, teasing just a bit, but also wondering. Surely he just meant business…

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