PHD #362: Coffee Harpies
Coffee Harpies
Summary: In the midst of all these Swarms, the three harpies have time for coffee and a chat.
Date: 23 Feb 2042 AE
Related Logs: I'm too lazy.
Sawyer Cidra Cora 
News Room - Deck 3 - Battlestar Cerberus
Condition Level: 2 - Danger Close
This compartment isn't huge by any means, an afterthought shoved into an alcove when the engineer was finishing the final plans for the ship. The long awkward rectangle is filled with several desks and those heavy pieces of machinery that are tools of the media trade — copiers, computers, printers, and of course a seemingly never-ending supply of paper of both the A4 and broadsheet variety. In the far port corner hangs a mulberry-colored hammock attached to the bulkhead — where the head-reporter-in-charge is purported to spent her nights. Three heavy desks have been moved to form an inverted 'U' for the new Editor in Chief's work station, and behind them lies the hatch to the modest closet-sized darkroom.
Post-Holocaust Day: #362

The shuttles aren't running. Only emergent ferrying has occurred between the Elpis, which means the majority of the civilian contractor workforce is stuck aboard the civilian ship. In turn, this means the News Room is virtually devoid of any of its little worker bees, and the Queen Bee is left to her own devices. So what does Sawyer do when no one is around? Today it involves a plastic toy gun that fires tiny little suction cups. The target? Her laptop screen. Pew pew!

"Hello, dear. How is your day at the office?" It's what passes for a joke from Cidra as she pokes her head into the Newsroom. The CAG is in her flight suit, though she doesn't look like she's been up in awhile. Like many pilots, she's taken to wearing it more often than not, with the Swarms ever on the horizon. There's a furtive quality about her as she pokes her head in. As furtive as the inscrutable woman ever is, at least.

Sawyer turns the plastic gun on Cidra, though after nearly accidentally getting shot by Trask, she should know better. The little trigger is pulled, and a plastic dart is fired at the CAG without much warning. PEW! But it's not like these things are terribly accurate, and the orange projectile goes whizzing past Cidra's to twang into the metal of the hatch. "Oh. You know. The same old, same old. To the point where my brain is no longer working and I'd rather jab a fork in my eye then try and write this news article. The story of Magnus Dekker has been sitting on my desk for two weeks now, mocking me. How are you?" Answer quick, because journalist is reloading.

Cidra makes no move to shoot Sawyer. She's not as trigger-happy as the Harriers SL, apparently. She *is* wearing her sidearm, but she carries it with a decided awkwardness. Has the CAG ever even fired a gun in combat since this war began? "Dekker?" There is vague recognition in her eyes, but it is vague. "Was he involved in…one of those incidents on the civilian ship?" She asks like she can't quite keep track of them. As for the latter she answers in a deadpan, "I am hiding."

"Not very well," Cora informs Cidra as she steps into the room, "One of the yeomen knew exactly where you were headed. Or had a decent guess anyway. I think they're psychic, who knows." She shrugs a bit and then nods, "Hey, Sawyer. What was that about Dekker? I've skimmed the report… was there something new?"

"Go ahead and lock the hatch. They may know where you are, but they can't get to you and we can claim plausible deniability about hearing any frantic knocks." There's a waggle waggle of Sawyer's eyebrows before she fires off her last round at the invaded TACCO. "Dekker was the one that was beat senseless. As to any new developments, I guess you'll just have to wait for the presses." Which aren't, you know, running.

"I was not hiding from yeomen," Cidra replies wry to Cora. Adding even more ruefully, "I know better than to bother." She adds, "I needed to…gather my thoughts. I have a strategy meeting with Lieutenant Colonel Baer over on the Areion later this day." Does she sound, just a trifle, nervous? Just a trifle. Perhaps. "To discuss our strategy in reconnaissance for further Cylon foundry installations, and what our own troops discovered this previous night." Head tilts further at mention of Dekker again. "That name is *so* familiar…where in hells do I know it from…"

Cora is caught off guard by the dart-gun attack, and he hands twitch up in defense but not quite fast enough, the plastic suction cup catching her in the shoulder and bouncing away. She turns back to lock the hatch behind her and then nods to Sawyer in confirmation and then to Cidra more slowly, with an understanding, "Ahhh. Dekker was a scientist?" she says with a shrug, "I'm not sure beyond that."

Sawyer works on getting the darts off her computer screen, where she was figuratively shooting the shit out of her article that is eluding her. SquicksquicksquickPOP. "He was a professor and an academic who did some work regarding Artificial Intelligence. One guess why he got the shit kicked out of him." At home with both Cora and Cidra, her manner is relaxed and no where near as polished as she is under normal work circumstances.

"Artificial Intelligence. Ah." It is deadpanned by Cidra, in a way that suggests, were she a less polite creature, she would spit. "One would think the First Cylon War would have taught man the folly of playing god with mechanical abominations." But despite the faint bristling at that, she does go to take a seat. Sinking into it gratefully. "How are you holding up, with these godsforsaken Swarms?" she asks Sawyer. No doubt having noted the light population in the Newsroom.

Cora just nods at the bit about AI, not displaying any sort of passionate response once way or another. When the CAG wanders further in and helps herself to a chair the TACCO does as well, folding her tall frame into a seat and stretching legs out in front of her, normally perfect posture unconcernedly slouchy this evening. "Hopefully an end to those in sight at some point here," she says of the swarms, "If we can track down where they're coming from and take them out. We'll see."

"Beyond not seeing Kal pretty much ever…wait. No. Nothing has changed." Sawyer gives a little sardonic smirk, amusing perhaps only herself with her dark humor. Her attention is still on getting those darts off her computer screen, letting the others settle in as they may. Mi casa es su casa and all that. "Just quiet around here, that's all. I think I'm the only one who works here who actually lives aboard the Cerberus still. I pretty much just camp out here, but that's par for the course no matter what the Condition."

"Boots still coming around, is he?" Cidra smiles an ever-so-slight smile at that. "How is that coming along?" She scoots a cigarette out of the pack she is - of course - carrying around. Plain, cheap Picon tobacco today, but the woman will still have her smoke of some variety. She lights up, and puffs, while awaiting an answer to that.

"Is that a bad thing?" Cora deadpans to Sawyer with a faint, dry snort. She runs a hand over her hair and nods, and then asks, "Why do you sleep here, anyway? I know the Elpis isn't exactly the Caprica City Grand, but there are actual beds. Is there really that much urgent news?" She seems skeptical, but is distracted by Cidra lighting up, inspired to reach into a pocket and pull out a cigarette of her own.

Sawyer thumbs over at a darkened corner. "I have a hammock here, and a cot in the dark room should I ever need it. No neighbors, and I'm close to my work, what's not to love?" Sawyer answers Cora sleeping situation query first, as that's really the easiest of the two. The other requires her to spark up along with Cidra, because when one smoker in a joint does, the rest are bound to get that itch that needs scratching. "He is." Still coming around, presumably. "Mock me if you will, ladies, but Sawyer Averies is in love. Against her better judgment."

"The cot is reasonably comfortable," Cidra says after a languid drag. She sounds like she speaks from experience. No mockery from her. A blink of surprise, followed by a widening of her blue eyes. And then, a smile. A proper one. "In love?" The CAG's tone is almost gentle. "Oh, Sawyer…how very wonderful…"

"Are you kidding?" Cora's tone is not gentle, and her smile, if it can be called that, is incredulous. She even laughs, "With Trask?" More laughter. "This is a joke, right? Are you two already high?"

There is an oh so adolescent eye roll from Sawyer, "Not wonderful." She thumbs over at Cora. "Exhibit A." The journalist relaxes back into her office chair and hitches up a knee on the edge of the desk. "And even though it's been a month? Yeah, still not convinced he's interested. Then the man has more baggage then millionaire's daughter on vacation, including the fact the woman he loved died something like six months ago. Yet despite all of that, my stomach does little flips and my girly parts go all a tingle when he's around. I haven't felt that way…ever." Sawyer touches the filter of her cigarette to her lips, but just as quickly pulls it away. "Can't we go back to talking about Baer?"

Cidra gives Cora a rather quelling look. "Hush, Nikephoros. And how have you cause to laugh? Who has been warming your hearth lately?" It's probably some sort of Gemenese saying. To Sawyer she says, more seriously, "I am happy for you. Kal Trask is not always…easy to get on with. But he is a good enough looking man, so there is that at least." She reflects on Trask's looks in a clinical sort of way. She is clearly not attracted to the ECO herself. It's more a general statement that he was put together to proper specifications. "But I think his heart is mostly in the right place, though I would like to smack his mouth on most occasions. And perhaps the company of a woman will make him…easier to deal with." Maybe that's why she's so happy for Sawyer. As for Baer. She clears her throat. And takes a quick puff before answering. "Were we talking about Lieutenant Colonel Baer?" Beyond her mentioning she was hiding before a meeting with him when she came in.

Cora seems both surprised and displeased to discover that this is not a joke, and she does not bother to hide the way her lip briefly curls in distaste. Cidra's old-time-y question draws a bit of laughter and then she just shakes her head, saying nothing more until eventually chipping in, "I suppose I thought he was decently good-looking once." She does not specify when that was, exactly, instead inquiring, "Have you spoken to Baer since, Cidra? And is there coffee or anything, Sawyer? Or should I go find us some?"

"He has nice hands." Sawyer mumbles around her cigarette as she gets up from her seat. "And his eyes crinkle at the corner when he smiles." The journalist further quantifies as to the attractive qualities about Trask. "And he hardly ever laughs, but when he does, it's just this delightful little 'heee'." Sawyer hooks three coffee mugs on one hand with a clink, and the coffee carafe with the other. The way she does all this and still has the cigarette between her lips, she must have been a truck stop waitress in a past life. "We're drinking coffee. What has the world come to." Condition two, that's what. "Yes, Baer. AKA Pepper." There's a pause as she distributes cups and goes about filling them. "And who /are/ you shagging then, Cora, dear? If we're going to mock all of our pathetic love lives, you have to give a little too."

"We have spoken about things," Cidra replies to Cora. "He is the CAG of the Areion. I am CAG here. We have matters to coordinate. Reconnaissance to plan. CAPs to synch. And the like. Many things." That was probably not the 'speaking' Cora meant, but the answer she gets is literal. To Sawyer, she shrugs. "I have never cared much for dark-eyed men. Not consciously, anyhow." Ahem. "Coffee would be very nice." She snorts when Sawyer calls Baer 'Pepper.' "Perhaps I should suggest that as a callsign. He might find it amusing." A pause. "Or not. We have not discussed…the incident."

Cora just sort of stares at Sawyer as she lists all of Trask's delightful little features, especially that laugh. As soon as possible she hides behind cigarette and coffee cup, and then nods at Cidra. "Of course," she nods, "And you're both adults. Professionals." She smiles faintly and then brows rise, "All dark-eyed men? That rules out most of the worlds, you know. Huh." Another long drag on her cigarette and she corrects, "I don't have a 'love life', Sawyer. I have a sex life. For a woman of words you're not very precise with your diction." She rubs briefly between her eyes and shakes her head, admitting, "I'm sorry, it has been a long week."

"I haven't had sex in something like ten months. Stop mincing words." There's a friendly undertone of 'bitch' in there as Sawyer tells Cora. The journalist lifts her coffee cup lightly in salute; they're just three coffee swilling, cigarette smoking harpies. Maybe they should have t-shirts made up. "For the record? I hate you both." For having sex lives, of course.

"Ladies. Ladies. I hope this will not turn to cutting," Cidra says. Was that a joke? She said it in that rather dry way she has of saying things that she means to be jokes. To Cora she says, "You must tell now, you know. You know who has warmed my hearth recently, the both of you." And to Sawyer she asks, "Why not? From the pornography collection he keeps, I have always presumed Boots was fully functional in that capacity." Again, there is a highly clinical tone about her as she ponders his functionality. To that last, she snorts soft. "I do not have much of one of late. Things are…rather awkward between Lieutenant Colonel Baer and I at present, and Dominic took that whole matter rather…poorly." And that she does sound sorry for. Moreso than the Baer Awkward.

"One more reason I'm glad I don't bother having a love life, instead," Cora retorts to Sawyer, "What's the point?" She nearly snorts coffee at Cidra's ruminations on Trask's porn collection, coughing once and pressing a hand to the center of her chest as she does, just shaking her head for a moment. "You told him? That's a shame," she nods to the pilot about Gabrieli and then asks, "How is he doing? I know he's in some sort of vague advisory capacity in Engineering right now. Is he able to work? The techs have so many jobs on their plate just now."

Sawyer finds a corner of desk to lean on. "Ouch. You told him? Isn't that like, the one-oh-one of relationships? Don't frak around, and if you do, sure as hell don't tell them." Sawyer doesn't know much about Gabrieli, so she's content to quiet down and let Cidra answer Cora's questions instead of posing any of her own.

"Dominic and I have always been honest with each other," Cidra says. "And we were not in a relationship, as such. It was purely physical. He has very nice hands." Then one might wonder why she bothered to tell him. And why it bothers "But…you have a point." More coffee is swigged. "Physically he is doing better. Back on duty, at least. I should…" But she never does finish saying what she should do, as the klaxons sound just then. Condition 1! Coffee harpies interrupted.

Cora rolls her eyes as the klaxons sound, draining her coffee in a gulp. "Of course," she says simply, and then rises. "I should get to CIC. Good luck out there, Cidra," she says, "Maybe we should give this another try tomorrow. Coffee in here isn't half bad."

"Saved by the bell." Sawyer directs at Cora, as the TACCO's the only one who has been dodging questions tongiht. As they both have to muster to Action stations, being a civilian Sawyer has to go back to her berthings which are…here. Or Airwing's berthings, but no one really keeps tally of the blonde any more. "Safe skies. Friendly tomorrows. Love you both." With her free hand (the other holds both coffee /and/ cigarette) she makes a shoo shooing motion. Off to the salt mines.

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