| Cooties |
| Summary: | Stavrian brings lollipops, Evan battles the blues, Quinn gets the heebie-jeebies, and Trask has cooties. |
| Date: | 02 Mar 2041 AE |
| Related Logs: | Virgon's Coffin & A Very Sound Recommendation |
| Players: |
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| Raptor Squadron - Naval Deck - Battlestar Cerberus |
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| The Raptor squadron pilots and ECOs call this place home. Berths line the walls with a locker between each one. A table and chairs sit in the center, and there is a hatch to the Pilots Head, which connects to the Viper Squadron Berthings. |
| Condition Level: 2 - Danger Close Post Holocaust Day: #4 |
This log is a continuation of A Very Sound Recommendation.
Evandreus is not just not his usual joyous self, at this point. He's looking perfectly lethargic, dressed in fatigues, laying on his bunk with one arm hanging down out of it, limp. On his chest, so the bruises must be getting less painful. Kind of staring blankly at the floor.
Quinn steps into the room with Trask, sighing slightly, "Frak, Trask… I love you to pieces, you know that, but not in front of the Admiral, okay? We understand it. We get it. Stick up his ass? Does not." Maggie is in mid sentence as they walk through the hatch, apparently some incident having befallen them elsewhere that involved the Admiral and Trask doing something… Untoward. Not really a shock, all told. She's in her off-duty regulation sweats, smoking the very, very last embers of a cigarette.
"Hey," Trask points out, somewhat glibly, "/you're/ the one who shoved her hand in my pocket to steal my lighter." A very nice lighter, it should be added. One that he stores in a front pocket, it should also be added. What remains verbally unsaid is 'you are totally responsible for the outcome, Quinn'. As for him, he's already on his fourth cigarette since leaving the Deck. By the look and smell of him, he has not bothered to shower between Point A and Point B. Spotting Evan, he chirps, "Bunny boy. You've got some lucky feets to go with your perfectly round bunny tail." This is the closest the ECO ever gets to mushy.
Evandreus does have quite a shapely tailside which, for once, is not on full view. His head doesn't move, cheek, just a mite beyond sandpapery from not having shaved since right before the big party, seeming velcroed to the undersheets of his bunk as he stares out dully to the floor, right arm all a-dangle. The comment from Boots gets his dark green eyebeams to pivot in that direction and a lethargic "Wut?" to come burbling from his lips, not comprehending how his feet qualify as lucky.
Every so often An Outsider dares to breach pilot berthings, like some wild animal driven into a foreign habitat in search of prey. Stalking into the shrine now is Stavrian, duty station easily recognizable — he hasn't bothered to change yet after his extended shift, still in royal blue scrubs and Sickbay ID clipped to the front. He heads through the rows of bunks with purpose, turning down the row where he hears the trio of voices of Trask, Quinn, and Evan.
Quinn looks over the room, staring at her two boys. Trask being as sarcastic and smart alec as they come — a sure sign he's not in a mentally comfortable area, and Bunny being a half useless curled up mess — it just breaks her heart. She hates seeing her squad like this. Wordlessly, she crosses to Bunny's side, slipping up into the bunk and running her fingertips through his hair a few moments. "Hey, Evan, talk to us. Trask is oggling your feet. I don't know if they're safe." She teases, just lightly, doing her best to ease him a bit. Then back to Trask, her eyes wordlessly asking for help. They can't leave Bunny like this. Stavrian's not even quite noticed, other than a brief flickering look of confusion. He doesn't sleep here. And he's a doctor, in those scrubs. It immediately sends more than a bit of panic through Maggie's eyes. Senseless panic, but that's what a phobia is. And the scrubs set it off.
True test of friendship? Trask licks two fingers to pinch out his cigarette, which he then sets aside for later use. He even starts removing his green duty jacket, which reeks of sweat and smoke, so it can be stored somewhere less likely to aggravate Evan's asthma. That, right there, is devotion. "Yeah," he continues, "lucky bunny feet. Rabbit feet. Whatever. They're lucky 'an we're hella lucky, too, that they're lucky." That's as close to 'I love you, bro' the man is ever going to utter. Noticing Quinn's panic, the ECO flicks on his internal DRADIS to espy the source. "El-tee," he greets Stavrian. "You have my lollipops?"
Evandreus pushes himself up with his left arm, lifting his torso to let Quinn sit on the head end of his bunk and then draping over her lap like some human seatbelt, his own seatbelt bruises evidently having ceased being too tender to lie down on. Boots' words, as well as his silent signals of devotion, garner a little bit of a smile from the otherwise depressed looking Raptorbunny. "When I update my will I'll leave them to you. You can hang them from your rear view," he tells Boots, a note of fondness there below the dark humor.
When it's been an exhausting shift and the longest few days of all their lives put together, some things grate far harder than they should. Like that look from Quinn which, from the darkening of Stavrian's expression, he's taken as hostile. "I'll be out of your oxygen in a minute, Captain," he tells Quinn, flatly. Jaw tense, his blue eyes turn away, glancing up at Evan as though half expecting to see the man aiming a gun at him. Then Trask, and sure enough he's digging into his front pocket. The prize - not one but five lollipops, in a rainbow. Even a blue one, gods know what flavor that is. "Here, I, um…" His tone's uncomfortably thrown off by the Captain's staring. "…thought there might be a few people could use one. Try not to suck too hard."
Quinn has gone dead still and quiet for several moments now, just watching Stavrian with that slight deer-in-headlights look. Or, more so, watching his damn scrubs. She keeps her fingertips in Evan's hair, stroking just slightly, but most of her has simply… Stopped. A slow breath in through her nose, to calm her triple timing heart. As she realizes that 1. He's not here to jab her with something or bug her about physicals again and 2. He's come bearing gifts for her boys, she relaxes just a moment. "…Sorry, Doctor. I… just… forgot… you…" She motions to those scrubs, they being more of the trigger than he himself. Still, she's clinging a good deal closer to Evan than she was before. "Please… carry on. Stay… if you like… Clearly you have business with my ECO." Of the Lollipop sort.
Evandreus doesn't point guns at anything other than the bottoms of their holsters willingly. And he doesn't regard Jess with anything nearing hostility or panic, only shifting his eyes port of straight ahead to see the guy when Trask greets him, and adds his own, "Hey, Jess," to the general pile of greetings. Not unkind. Just sort of tired. An emotional tiredness rather than a physical one, despite all the CAPs he's been flying. "Aw. That was sweet of you," he notes. Get it? Sweet? 'Cause. Yeah, no, not that funny. Nor particularly voiced as a pun, nor commented upon. Still, it's there, and if he didn't sound quite so depressed it might have come over as more of a joke. As it stands, it hovers around heartfelt.
Gawds frakkin' damn. Lollipops. The whole preventing Major Frakshitinsane from shooting Bootstrap in the back of the head had firmly cemented the PA-C's awesomesauceness. (The medic's sauciness, in general, was already thoroughly appreciated.) Stavrian bringing suckers, though, sealed the 'we are totally gonna be bros' deal. Especially the blue one. For a moment, Trask is honestly taken aback. There is no glib response. He just stares a bit and blinks a few times. "Yeah. Thanks, man. And, uh, thanks for the other day, too…" Okay, this is now getting awkward and uncomfortable because it's veering into the realm of emotions. Naturally, that means the steering wheel has to be jerked so they end-up in a chasm, instead. Accepting the suckers, a quip to Bunny follows. "Just remember that I'm in no rush to redecorate the Raptor." That is Kal-speak for 'you better not die, yo — ever'.
"I'm not a doctor," Stavrian replies to Quinn through his teeth, without actually looking at her. He looks up at Evan again, the tensed corners of his eyes managed to relax just a little bit. "Hey. Been worried about you." For someone so good at this in Sickbay, it's way harder when he's trying to just be a person. His voice is scratchy, long hours of talking and a fatigue that goes way beyond his body. Still, his lips twitch. "Make Trask give you one. S'like chicken soup. Cootie shot. Something." He clears his throat and looks back at Trask, meeting the man's much darker eyes. "Yeah… don't-" 'Worry about it', is the end of that, but it dissolves into some vague gesture. "But I'll remember that next time I think about putting pink fuzzy dice on your rearview." He scratches his cheek, which is showing some definite dark stubble. "Maybe I'll see you guys. Tea or something. You know… later." Human contact. He doesn't get much of it, outside of people needing his care. "Um. Yeah, anyway." His eyes flicker uncomfortably to Quinn. "Done, sir. Sorry." He rocks back on his heels and turns to go.
Quinn gives a half smile, if strangely nervous, at Evandreus' attempt at a pun — intended or not. Her fingertips never leave his hair, now he as much a comfort to her as she is to him. It works out well, on occasion. She looks between the three men and smirks a bit sideways…"I somehow feel like I'm intruding on male bonding hour in the Raptor racks… shall I leave you all be to grunt, drink beer and watch some pyramid?" It's her own best attempt at a nervous joke, but Maggie's been brought down off of her usually fairly eloquent, charming pedastel by sheer nerves at the big blue elephant in the room. And especially when Stavrian reveals he's not a doctor. She doesn't know him from Adam, other than his saving their collective asses the other night. She frowns after him, "No… Frak… Jig, stay, please… I just… I'm not… not good with… Medics. Just stay. You're off duty, right? Stay. I still didn't say thank you myself… Thank you. Saved my frakking neck. Saved all of us, really."
"I'm doing okay, Jess," Evan tries to assure the guy, even if his voice never quite builds any level of enthusiasm to it. He does make his right arm stop hanging limp long enough to drag his elbow upward and flex his shoulder that way, then unbend his elbow and swing his arm up by his head, bending the elbow again to reach down behind his head and to his other shoulder, then, for good measure, he holds his arm straight out and brings it up and 'behind' him, showing the range of motion easily reached. And doesn't even manage to smack Maggie at all during the few second demonstration. "See? And yeah. I owe you, too, guy. A lot. Juggles and Bootsie here have been as close to family to me as anyone in… a long time. Thanks for bringing them both home safe to me again. Stay a while? We can make you some tea or… there's juice?"
Human contact doesn't bother Trask. Indeed, he is a very sociable person, provided it remains at a rather superficial level. The deeper things go, the more glib he becomes. Causticity is comforting. Sardonicism is safe. Flippancy is a fortress. "I'd much rather have a dashboard hula girl," he tells Stavrian. To Evan and the talk of family, he notes, "That's sweet. You still aren't getting the blue one." The other lollies, though, he deposits next to Quinn. "Eh," is then shrugged, an expression of distaste manifesting. "Not sure how much fun pyramid would be with Picon going *PASHOO BOOM!*" Complete with hand gesture to emulate the dropping of nukes. "Saying that the Panthers suck kinda loses its appeal when there are no more Panthers." Causticity is comforting. Sardonicism is safe. Flippancy is a fortress. None. Shall. Pass.
Stavrian looks over his shoulder at Quinn, pausing mid-step. "Didn't save his, sir." His eyes flicker back up to Evan and he hesitates, but shakes. "I need to get to…" He wasn't prepared to spit a lie, so it hitches. "…work. I'll see you guys later." Trask seems included in that, from the glance the ECO gets. "Give him the blue one and I'll get you some more. And I /am/ going to check his tongue in a few hours to make sure." This, he manages to make sound vaguely threatening. "Get back to whatever pilots talk about… how much you like fondling your sticks or whatever. Seeya." He lifts a hand and departs on that note, voice a hint easier coming out but boy that's some tension in his shoulders.
Quinn frowns a bit after Stavrian, a trace of doubt in her eyes but she doesn't push the issue with the man. "See us again, Jig…" She calls after him, those words remarkably honest for a woman whose blood is sent ice-cold by the sight of his scrubs. Apparently, saving her and her ECO's life scores him extra points above and beyond being a terrifying medic. She then looks back down to Evan and Trask, a wiry smile crossing her lips as she stares at the lollipops. "Alright, boys… share nicely and maybe you'll get an extra fifteen minutes on the playground tonight… whatever the frak that's supposed to mean." Wits aren't her strong suit when she's this tired.
Evandreus seems to buy the work line. There's work for everyone to get done, these days, so it's hardly unreasonable. "OK Jess," he murmurs, "Thanks for the candies," he adds, just in case he wasn't clear on his gratitude on that score. "And if you're looking for stick-fondlers, you've got to go next door to Viper berths. There's none of that nonsense in here," he adds with a little hint of a smile. First one of the evening from the usually bright-beaming Bunnychild. "We apply our vector corrections via keyboard like real mens," he feigns at rugged manliness, just there, which is always a comical look coming from the male who refuses on general principle to conform to stereotype.
The blue lollipop? Somewhere between dissing the Panthers and being threatened by Stavrian, Bootstrap stuck the sweet in his mouth. It's not like he can smoke around Bunny, and he's feeling a bit orally fixated, at the moment. Pointedly removing the sucker from his mouth, he dryly informs Jesse, "I have cooties." Back in his mouth the sugar on a stick goes.
"There's shots for that," Stavrian calls over his shoulder, drily. And out he goes.
Quinn smiles a bit more, actually relaxing as Bunny seems to have, for a moment or two, snapped out of it. She sighs, looking down at both of them as she gives a half shake to her head. "What am I going to do with you two?" she inquires gently, a mother with her more than mischievous teen sons. Only they aren't her blood, and somehow are far beyond those rebellious years. She stifles just a bit of a yawn, the relaxation tipping off her own exhaustion, especially with a warm Evan in her lap. "… Bunny… mind if I crash here a few hours? Since I'm up here already." The company would be nice too, though she leaves that unspoken. "As always, Kal… room to crawl in. You know that."
Evandreus looks through the other lollies by Quinn's leg, picking up one and sniffing the plastic, then another, and a third, finally settling on the orange one, which he puts up on his shelf after a manner of claiming it. "Stay up here with me, Maggie," he asks of her by way of giving his permission. "Bootiekins, will you come?" he asks of him. Yes, almost deliberately feeding the Trask straight lines.
"Not my idea of a three-way," Kal idly quips, starting to unfasten his belt. Sliding it out of the belt loops of his pants, he adds with a sly smirk, "Oh, I'll definitely come." The line is eaten and then shat out. "In the shower." Collecting the necessary bath time items, he naughtily smiles at his surrogate family and tells them, "Sleep well, kids. Don't bother waiting up."
Quinn just moans, collapsing to the side behind Bunny, almost hiding away from Trask's words. "I can't even -look- at you, Kal. Frak. Go shower… frakker… " She teases gently, actually blushing at the thought of her ECO getting off. It's… Impolite! The strangest things that get to Maggie. Already laying down, she shifts just enough that she's spooning Evandreus instead of has him in her lap. It's a comfortable way to sleep, and he smells good… masculinely familiar. Her nose buries in his hair, arm around his waist, tucking in for the night. "Try to get some rest too, Evan… I'll be here when ya wake up…" She lilts out a moment, too close to sleep to bother with any sort of accent but what comes natural.
Evandreus gives a little noise that might be a giggle in some languages. "Showerfrakker," he gives that noise again, but just cuddles all up on his Cap'n, growing too comfortable to do much of anything at all. "Night, Bootsie," he calls, tired-voiced.