PHD #019: Card Sharks
Card Sharks
Summary: Lunair joins an uncomfortable game of Triad between Pallas and Zosime.
Date: March 17, 2041
Related Logs: None
Lunair Pallas Zosime 
Recreation Room - Deck 9 - Battlestar Cerberus
This huge room spans quite a lot of floor space, the support beams crisscrossing at even points throughout the room. The two sides are divided fairly between the Enlisted and Officers with an unseen line more or less running down the center of the room. A couple pool and card tables sit in no-man's land with a series of regular mess tables at the rear of the room, nearest a counter full of minor refreshments like coffee and bags of chips. Magazines and reading material are spread out over the couched seating areas and a few televisions are set-up with a couple of video game systems made available.
Condition Level: 3 - All Clear / Post Holocaust Day: #19

It's not very crowded in the recreation room tonight. Maybe the department heads are trying to keep their people relatively busy with various taskings now that the drinking ban's been lifted, or maybe the good crew of Cerberus are hiding out and drinking in their private little spots. Either way, it's pretty sparse. A couple tables of Triad going on, drinking and smoking, joking and relaxing. It's at one of these tables that Lieutenant Pallas "Spiral" Ellinon finds himself, left arm still in a sling, playing at cards. Seems like he's got a respectable pile of cubits going on - not that this is enough to put a smile on that scowling face. His current hand, apparently no good, gets more or less thrown right into the pile, knocking over a small stack of currency.

One of those other players at the table with LT Ellinon is the Deckhand Aemilia Zosime. Her own hand isn't exactly the best at the table, she's pretty sure, but she's not the type to toss a stack of cards at her money were that the case. She's not exactly startled by the Viper pilot's reaction and she just pulls her fan of cards close to her chest as the cubits skitter this way and that on the table. As she's been forced to work with him more than once - his well known diva attitude toward his bird is well known among the deckies and they all draw straws to see who has to deal with him - this is sort of temperment she would guess he'd take in a game of cards, too. "So, I'm just guessing you're not one for the poker face, sir."

Could well be! But tonight at least a few have escaped. Lunair is among them, keeping a small loom under her arm and what looks to be a hand bag in the other. Iiiiiiiit's sewing and weaving time! The violet-eyeed woman meanders in, looking stately as one can off-duty. She hums softly and pauses, noticing the card games going on. Most notably, Pallas'. She peers owlishly. She inches, curiously over towards the game. Hee. A faint smile. "…I don't know, that depends on if he keeps the same one all the time," She points out. Whoops. "Ack, that was positively barbarous." Bad manners! She looks embarrassed.

Pallas sits back in his chair with a scoff, somehow managing to fold his arms disapprovingly with one of them in a sling. "If only you could apply that kind of logical brilliance in maintaining my Viper," he replies to Zosime. "Then maybe I wouldn't have to sign off on six-page repair reports every time she goes down the tube." His nose twitches, his face turning into something of a sneer for a split second - surely unintentional. "Nobody really stands on courtesy here," he says to the newcomer, giving her a quick casual glance over his shoulder. "Pull up a chair if you feel like giving me some cubits."

With a tight smile, Zosime places her cards very neatly on the table - proving herself the winner of that round. With a deliberate hand, she pulls that scattered stack of cubits in front of her and then piles them up into as even stacks as they can be made into. "It's because I'm busy counting all the cubits you're giving me instead of working." Her own version of sarcasm is done with a smile and she glances up from her stacking to turn her sunny disposition on him at full force. "Clearly, sir." At least she doesn't say that it's because he's the one that's breaking his bird every time he goes out. As Lunair approaches, she tilts her chin up to greet her with a smile and a gesture at the empty chairs still around the table. "Please do." And save her from such company.

"… that's too bad," Frown. Lunair is apparently big on manners and noblisse oblige. She peers at Pallas. "I guess it couldn't hurt a little. I was going to weave a bit too," Smile. She has strange, purple eyes. It might be a bit off-putting. She watches and tilts her head. "Thank you. That's very kind of you." She will accept the chair. She sets down her things beside her. "I'm not very good at cards though. Oh well," A shrug. She doesn't seem to mind. She'll enter in on the next hand though. Lunair watches between the two a moment. "I'm afraid I cannot say I've met you? I'm Lieutenant JG Raine Lunair, but Rai or Ray is fine."

"Then I guess I should stop being so kindly merciful," Pallas says with a forced and sickeningly sweet smile. "Don't frakking worry about it - I generate far more work than cubits." The next round about to begin, he tops off his fuel with a quick nip of his flask. The ashtray sitting beside him is already a mound of extinguished carcinogens. Clearly, a man of vices - but has he any virtues? "Weave?" he asks Raine, raising an eyebrow but not looking her way. Can a single word possibly drip with more disdain? "Nobody else at the table's very good at cards, either." He gestures to his stack of cubits as proof. "Lieutenant Ellinon. Some call me Spiral. More call me 'sir'." Yeah… but only because they have to.

Poor Lunair certainly has no idea what she is getting herself into when she agreed to join this card game. Zosime starts to deal out the cards as Pallas indulges in his vices and Lunair readies herself for the game. Better to start off. "Oh, is that what you were being?" The blonde woman doesn't really smoke and her own drinking isn't off the charts, either, but she'll partake in both of them if they're available. "Petty Officer Aemilia Zosime," she introduces with a nod, counting out the proper cards to go to the proper people. Shooting Pallas a look at his weaving comment, the quick glare softens when it comes to rest on the other woman. "A lotta people call me Z or Zo, though. What were you weaving?"

A blink at the two's relationship. Lunair looks a little awkward, but hides it behind a stately demeanor. Perhaps she would have fit better into ancient wars with cavalry and dashing officers in beautiful uniforms. Weirdo. She sneezes though. Cigarettes? Uh oh. Sniffle. A nod at Pallas. Then a frown at the disdain. "Yes, it's a hobby. And apparently a profitable one when I can sew to repair uniforms." So there. She looks to Spiral. "I guess technically you'd be a sir to me too. So good to know I'm in the majority." The poor woman doesn't know what's coming. She smiles at Zosime too. "Zo, that's adorable. And oh, just a something to hang up on the wall. Maybe next I'll try a rug." If she's brave! She gets her hand of cards then. Horray. "I guess it is a bit … domestic." A faint blush. "But it could be worse." Shrug. "So you pilot a… Viper? That's pretty neat."

Lunair, Pallas, and Zosime are amongst those sitting down at one of the hexagonal tables for a game of Triad. To say that it's a friendly game might not be an outright lie - but it'd be disingenuous at best, the way that Pallas has been snapping at people (especially Zosime) all throughout. Still, he appears to be on top at the moment if cubits are to be any standard of judgment on the table. "When I stop being nice, you'll know it because you'll be curled up under a Raptor, crying," he replies to Zosime as she shuffles and deals. "Again." That's a joke, right? That didn't actually happen. Did it? Hard to tell with a guy like Pallas sometimes. "Yeah, an old frakker like me can still fly," he says to Lunair, automatically assuming that her slight pause before 'Viper' is one of hesitation. "Don't you worry, getting older hasn't robbed me of much besides my amicable disposition."

Adorable? Zosime isn't quite sure how to take a compliment such as that. "Th-thank you, sir?" Picking up her cards, she fans them out just slightly before folding them back into on stacked hand. "Everyone has hobbies." She knits, actually, but it's not something she'll come right out and say in front of everyone. Especially Pallas. The last thing she wants is him calling her Needles or something. As she tosses out her cubits into the center for her buy in, the corner of her lips turn up in just a little smirk. It's not that hard to tell that she's annoyed, though. "I was only crying about what you did to your poor bird, sir." Whether he's joking or not, she'll play along for now.

Lunair looks a bit sheepish, stuck between the two. "It's true, but you're welcome." She rubs the back of her head. She takes her cards too. "Yeah." Smile. She will put in a few cubits too. Her eyebrows lift. "You don't look that old. Although I guess given the average age," A shrug. She tries to be polite. It's in her blood practically. She just rolls with the punches. "I'm a bit jealous. I couldn't fly unless someone shot me out of the missile tube and Lords, I hope it doesn't come to launching the Marines." A bit of a joke at her own expense. She smiles a bit and looks between the two. Oi. "Um, hm…" If she hhas a poker face, it's set to confused.

Pallas tosses in cubits with casual nonchalance as he does at the beginning of every hand. "I didn't do anything to my bird," he growls, cards fanned out before him. "By the Gods, I've never had so many frakking problems getting a proper repair done as I have on this ship." Way to turn a little joke into a backhanded comment! He thinks for a moment, then raises the bet, making a show of carefully counting out cubits before stacking them up in the center. "If we have to resort to launching people out of missile tubes, I've got a list of at least fifty names that should take precedence," he mutters. Another shot from his flask.

Glancing at her cards, Zosime places two face down and then takes two from the deck to replenish her hand. "We reserve launching Marines out of the tubes for Colonial Day," she tells Lunair thoughtfully without looking up from her hand. Though her poker face really isn't as bad as Pallas' when he tossed his cards down on the table, it's not actually all that good, either. She frowns at her cards. It's hard for her to bite back the roll of her eyes that she really, really wants to give Pallas at his comments, but somehow she manages. Possibly due to a mental prayer to Castor to deliver her from Viper pilot's with an inflated sense of self-importance. "Maybe that's because we're a little hard up for parts, sir, because of, you know, the whole Cylons blowing everything up. If you manage to find any good ones out in the salvage, we'll be glad to use them, though." Then, she places her cards down on the table face down with her other discarded cards. "I fold." Scooping up what is left of her winnings, she nods to Pallas and Luniar in her farewell. "Lieutenants."

Oh dear. Lunair blushes. "Well… I suspect everyone's been busier than -" Pause. Hmm. Busier than what? She taps her chin. Then a soft laugh at Zo's launching Marine's comment. "I'm glad then," She remarks. She winces at the back and forth comments. Awkward. Her nose wrinkles a little. At least the Marine has good bearing. "I hope our salvages go well soon then," She offers quietly. A blink. She nods. "Be well, Zo." She pauses. Looks to her cards. Hmmm. Her purple eyes almost cross. Draw. Change. Hmmmm.

"Yeah, I remember. I was there," Pallas drawls sarcastically, pointing at his slung arm. "PO." He continues to look down at his cards as she leaves, and it's only when he estimates that she's more or less out of earshot that he says to the table, "Touchy." He swaps out one card, drawing from the deck himself since the dealer's just left. "Well," he sighs, leaning back with cards folded down in his hand, "I might as well be all in. Not gonna get a hand as good as this for the rest of the night." Using his cards, he shoves his stack of cubits over into the center - some of it going skittering off onto the floor. Now it's all mingled in there without having been counted, and the only way to know what he raised is to separate the initial amount that was on the table, and then count what he just threw in. Pure class.

Lunair just offers that polite smile that serves society so well. A pleasantly vacuous look. Oh yes, yes very nice. She tilts her head. She sets a few to match his bet. And ack. How many- his trick works. Sigh. Oh well. It's not a huge sum though. "I guess I'll follow then." But alas, Lunair's hand isn't quite as good as his. She looks flustered for a second. "Ah…" Hmm. "So, where are you from?" She asks quietly.

No, it's not a huge sum, but it appears that his constant flinging of cards and mixing of cubits without counting is starting to piss off the other players at the table. As he rakes in his earnings from the hand, the others all mutter a couple choice words - perfectly polite and courteous, of course - and take their leave. "Aquaria," replies Pallas simply. Standing up, he does a bit of a dance to collect his money and get it into his pocket with just the one good hand, polishes off the flask, and raises it to his forehead in somewhat of a salute to Lunair. "Guess the game's over." Apparently, this passes for a farewell for him - he's headed through the hatch and Gods-know-where.

"Oh. I see," She pauses. Lunair blinks. She is apparently one of the most gentle Marines around, not seeming to mind. She looks amused by his dance. "that's impressive, sir." She peers at him. A pause. Man moves fast. She blinks owlishly. "Guess so." Time to weave! "Be well," She waves to him. She's left speechless after and will settle in to get her loom going.

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