PHD #255: Don't Touch My Socks
PHD #255: Don't Touch My Socks
Summary: Poppy is busy washing all of her clothes due to Hosedown's prank; Drips attempts to run interference for Hosedown; Shiner is endearingly dumb and persistent.
Date: 08 Nov 2041 AE
Related Logs: Ass Over Tea Kettle, Drinks, Pranks, and Callsigns
Khloe Shiner Wade 
Laundry Room - Deck 3 - Battlestar Cerberus
Industrial washers and dryers line each side of this elongated room, which typically has personnel moving in and out all day and night. These front-loading systems are designed to withstand the rigors of a military beating and still function as expected. A sturdy set of counters run the length of the room for crewmembers to fold their own laundry and dress and pins or patches before and after the process.
Post-Holocaust Day: #255

Amidst the tumbling and the banging, the swishing and the swashing, Khloe Vakos sits at one of the benches, staring at one of the many front-loaded washers, watching her wash go 'round and 'round. One of the few times she's actually ever out of uniform is wash day, and even then typically she's in her sweats. She's purely in off-duty greens right now.

And Wade has some laundry to do as well. The man walks in the room, carrying a large bag of dirty clothes. He is also wearing his off-duty greens, dogtags dangling over his chest. He idly looks around, spotting Khloe. "Hey Captain, doing some laundry as well?" says Wade in a form of greeting. He opens one of the washing machines and then turns around, starting to separate whites from colors "Gotta say, first time I see you wearing the regular off-duty greens"

"I'm washing everything," Poppy says off-hand, not really looking up. The washer seems to have the Captain mesmerized, or at the very least, it's what she's focusing on. "Someone went through my locker. I have to re-do everything." Her tone isn't angry or edgy, just low and even. She's probably beyond pissed.

"Well, don't stare at the washing machine like that, you can go into trance and stay like that for hours" informs Wade, mild joke there. He smiles with some amusement at what she says and the looks over at her machine "Was it all dirty or something?" asks the pilot now.

Khloe tears her eyes from the washer, finally looking at the person talking to her. "Oh. Hello, Drips," she says off-hand, as if the conversation was starting anew. A small frown. "No, not really. I found the socks all screwed up, and someone went through my underwear. It's probably either a practical joke or there's a pervert in the berths. The prior, I can yell at and then throw in the brig. The latter, I'm going to make their lives a lot, lot worse." And then she looks back to the washer, as if it was drawing her back in.

Wade continues to separate his clothes for a moment as he listens to her, looking at her from time to time to note that he is paying attention. When all is done, he opens the door of a second washing machine and gets everything inside. He closes the doors, sets the timers and the programs and START! "You would throw a person in the brig for a practical joke?" asks Wade, arching one eyebrow. "And, I seriously doubt there's a pervert in the berths"

Khloe shrugs lightly. "We're all a part of a team, Drips. We all rely on each other to do the right thing, in and out of battle. If there comes a pilot who seems to think it's appropriate to purposefully screw around with someone who specifically orders their locker in a certain way, they they clearly don't respect that someone. A lack of respect for a commanding officer is serious business." She blows upward, knocking loose hair out her face. "So, really, their best bet is to confess to the deed. At least truthfulness might earn them a small reprieve."

Wade remains in silence, considering Khloe's words for a moment. He doesn't agree with that entirely. "Captain, would you accept and advice or…a different point of view perhaps?" Asks the man, looking at her with a faint smile. He takes a seat on that same bench, but on the sector that is directly in front of his washing machines.

Surprisingly, she doesn't bite his head off. "Since you're offering politely, I'll at least hear you," Khloe says in response. Her washer enters the final spin cycle, so she looks aside again, focusing on Wade.

And Wade is thankful. The man nods and starts "Sometimes, a practical joke is a way to do some bonding. Take me for example; when I joined the Swords on Battlestar Corvus, fresh out of flight school…" he stops there and smiles at that memory "…Well, I wasn't all that talkative, you know, I was nervous, first assignment and everything. So my squadron played me a small prank that made me earn my callsign, but also helped to break the ice between us." He clears his throat and nods "The one that came up with that prank was actually my SL, and I can tell you the guy did an outstanding job, when it comes to, being the leader." He nods to this and shrugs "I don't know; if you feel like sending someone to the brig because of that, or throw a small reprieve, that's your thing, that's fine but really…is it necessary? I seriously doubt anyone is trying to show disrespect here"

Shiner arrives from the Deck 3.
Shiner has arrived.

Khloe gives a dry chuckle, although she doesn't smile one bit. "Now let me tell you something, Drips. There's a reason why I am the way I am. It's not because I'm a humorless, heartless bitch," she begins, putting a boot up against the washer. She begins re-tying that boot. "I do things the way I do things because I have to. Anything short of perfection and I've failed as a soldier. I've failed my squad. How does this relate to socks?" She shrugs lightly. "Instead of going over a CAP report, or examining one of my squad's Vipers, or going for a run, or doing my calisthenics, I'm forced to go out of my schedule and wash and dry and press every piece of clothing I own. If I don't do everything by formula, Drips, I can slip up. And people will frak up and die if I slip up."

"Well, I'm not saying you have to be buddy buddy with everything or take one step aside from your way of doing things" says Wade. He shrugs at this and shakes his head "All I can do, is to offer my own experiences as an example." He goes back to his memory lane and brings up "This guy, I don't know. He wasn't all friends with us, nothing like that. I guess the idea was to feel comfortable flying with us, us with ourselves and with him. The Swords was a pretty good group, until it got shut down for lack of funds." Now he stands up again, walking closer to his washing machines, looking inside "Different points of view are always good to study a situation." He looks over to her and finishes with "Saying that if you slip up, people will frak up and die shows lack of trust in your Squadron, Captain. You have some pretty damn good pilots there."

Shiner sneaks in. Sneaky. Or as sneaky as any man can be when he's wobbling on a cane and wearing a high-vis bright orange jumpsuit. He gives a tentative smile towards those already there and limps over to the benches, unslinging a bag from his shoulder and setting it down.

Khloe finishes tying her other boot. "A squadron is only as good as her SL," she says to Wade, either as a correction or as her personal view. "I'm tight so they don't have to be." She plants the boot down and moves to stand, as her wash is almost done and ready to be transferred to a dryer. She rolls back and forth from the balls of her feet to her heels, satisfied with the new tightness in her footwear. "Maybe I won't brig the people responsible, but I'll sure as shit make them think twice about frakking with my locker again." She then throws open the front of her washer and starts taking out the mass of wet socks, undershirts, and underwear.

Wade presses his lips together at her first words and considers for a moment "And entire discussion can build around that statement, but that goes beyond the point" Now he just follows her with his gaze for a moment and finally asks "So, how are you exactly planning to find out who was the one that frakked with your locker?" This is mostly asked out of curiosity, but…the means can bring different results. When Shiner steps inside, Wade looks at him and offers a silent nod, looking at his clothes again.

Shiner begins peeling out of his overalls where he sits, squinting over at the pair when he gets his head free. "Uh… wait… is somebody burning people's lockers again, sir?" he queries timidly. "'cause, like, I know they got Wolfe's. Burned all her bras and everything." A pause of recollection and a faint smile he can't help crosses his lips before he shakes it off and puts the solemn face back on. "Somebody get your shit, Captain?"

Khloe hadn't noticed Shiner until he started talking. As she's about to dump the mass of clothes into a dryer, she pauses and slowly turns her head to look at him, almost like one of those horror movies. "Hello, Apprentice," she says, icicles hanging from her greeting. "Someone went through my locker and chose to do some uninvited reorganization." Fling! The wad of clothes are flung into the dryer with a muffled whump. She then closes the front and punches up the desired drying cycle. "I'm not going to do anything, Drips. Either they come forward, or they don't. I don't expect squadmates to turn in other squadmates… it's bad for morale. I'm just requisitioning a padlock for my locker. Gods help them if they frak with it further, because then the entire squad is going to suffer."

Wade starts pulling his clothes from the washing machines as well, and immediately throwing them inside the dryers. "There's always some frak head. Burning things now?" At this, he shakes his head and then moves his attention back to Khloe. "Well, I'm just saying that this might have been something done to break the ice, that's all" And he doesn't talk about it again. "Changing subject, do you have some time later? I would like to go over some details of my Flight Instructor qualifications." Now, he nods and looks at the time.

Eek. Scary look. Shiner ducks his head down, mumbling a, "Sir," in response to the greeting he gets. He bundles up his overalls and throws them towards a washer, taking up his cane again to hobble the few steps over to the washer in just his skivvies to turn it on.

"If I'm not on CAP and not in the athletic center, Drips, then it means I'm available," Khloe explains for Wade's benefit. "Bother me any time. We'll go over some basics." Parking her butt back on the bench, she crosses her legs by placing an ankle on the opposite knee, and leans forward, staring into the dryer.

Wade looks at Shiner, and then at Khloe. What's going on here? He shakes his head and then looks at the time again "Thanks, Poppy. I shall do that" Bother at any time of course. "Hopefully we'll get a new batch of Nuggets of the people rescued from Aerilon." Now he clears his throat and says "I have to step outside for a while, I'll come back for my clothes when they are ready" He nods to her and he says "Happy drying" A joke! Now he looks at Shiner and he says "Don't force that leg" And he leaves. Dun Dee Dun.

Shiner switches on the machine, flopping back over to the bench and digging through his bag for spare clothes. He keeps his head down, trying hard not to catch Khloe's eye, although Wade's mention of a need for nuggets has him looking up again, setting that little piece of information somewhere aside in his tiny brain.

There's a long pause before Khloe speaks up again; she seems content with sitting still and watching her clothes tumble. But she finally breaks the tension: "You talk to that pilot yet, Apprentice? I'll settle for a snitch. I have a feeling the person who frakked with my locker might be the very person who set you up, knowing there'd be no frakking way I'd twirl my hair and make kissy faces in your direction." As much as she's trying to be a hard-ass, she can't help but smirk at that last part. As if.

Shiner swallows, then lifts his chin. "Haven't seen him, sir," he lies smoothly, tugging on his trousers with some difficulty, his foot twisting and getting caught half way up the leg. "Frak it all," he mutters to himself, yanking on the material.

"Him. Well, that cuts the possibilities in half," Khloe observes to herself. Leaning over to peer at Shiner more clearly, both eyebrows raise. "You want to be a stick, and you can't even take your own pants off? And no, I'm not going to help you."

Shiner sets his jaw as he pulls at the material. "Sir, I never saw stripping in the job description. Besides, I'm putting 'em on. Much harder." And with a final yank, his foot pokes out of the end of the trouser leg and he pulls them up. "If you want to take my pants off, you'll have to join the queue."

Issuing a soft snort, Poppy mutters something like, "Fat chance," before sitting straight up again. Then, "I noticed you didn't offer a name up when I suggested it. Any particular reason why? I mean, now with Atreus tossing in the towel and moving down to Aerilon, the only person I can possibly file a complaint with is PO Damon. And, scuttlebutt is, the man just frakked up his hand during a milk run. I'm sure he's in a great mood."

"PO Damon's a sound guy," Shiner stands up for his Chief, pulling out a shirt next and beginning to tug it on over his swimmer's physique. He'd almost be attractive until he pulls the shirt down and his face is exposed again. "He'll come up with something fair, whatever, sir. I'm not, like, being brave or any of that shit, I just figure if I 'can't remember' who made the bet, then he can't come storming down on me for ratting him out."

Khloe tsks lightly. "I'm disappointed, Apprentice. You were tooting a different tune a couple days ago," she says. "Oh well." She uncrosses her leg and re-crosses in the opposite direction. "I guess I'll 'fail to remember' to tell PO Damon that you want to be a Nugget instead of a knuckle-dragger. I'm sure we can find someone to fill your spot in the roster." She puffs upward again at that errant strand of hair. "You know, like, Nibbles."

"What? No! No!" Shiner protests, holding up his hands. "I totally want to be a nugget, sir! I've still got a chance, then?"

"Step one. Nut up," comes Khloe's very unfeminine suggestion. "Only chance you have with flying a real Viper is to show me you don't shirk from responsibility and you're above all this petty prank crap. Step two…" She leans over to eye Shiner's lower half, specifically his leg, and the cane he uses. "Get better. No chance you can stick a high-G maneuver with a gimped leg. Get the doctors to fix your neck and do your PT." She sniffs, rubbing her nose with the inside of her thumb and index finger. "We'll work on that brain-mouth thing later."

Shiner points out, "You just said, sir, that you don't expect anyone to rat anyone else out. Did you mean it or not?" He shakes his head, briefly touching his neck. "Doc's started sticking frakking /needles/ in me. And if that doesn't work, he's going to cut it open and try surgery. I'm trying to get better, sir, honest I am. I'm way ahead of what they thought. I mean, shit, I'm out of the frakking chair for one thing."

Khloe nods slowly. "Which is why I said to you, the other evening, to go frakking talk to the pilot who set you up. This isn't rocket science, Mister. If you're not going to tell me - which is the right thing to do, mind you, because I would never respect you if you just squealed - then you should go nut up to the lost bet and do whatever it is you need to do, and tell the pilot that he's in deep shit with me."

"I haven't seen him, sir," Shiner protests, throwing up his hands. A pause. "Or her. Him or her, I mean."

Khloe smirks at that, and shakes her head. "You always been dumb, Shiner, or did that Saggie really blow out a part of your brainmeats? Like I said. We'll work on that brain-mouth thing later."

"Always been dumb, sir," Shiner replies promptly, trying a hopeful smile. "I've still got some tea, though, sir, if you wanted some? Peace offering and that?"

Khloe looks as if she was going to be quick to say no, but then an idea runs between her ears, and she closes her mouth. "Sure," she says, carefully, as if accepting something from someone might cause the Battlestar to implode. "Sure, I'll take that tea. Loose or bagged?"

Shiner grins with relief, nodding. "Loose, sir. It's the good shit, too. The guys found some down planetside and gave it me as a welcome back to work present. You got a strainer and a kettle and shit?"

"And shit," Khloe says. "Understand, Apprentice, that this isn't a bribe or anything of the sort, and it's not going to alter my decision one way or another if we accept you as a Nugget." Then, the dryer she's in front of squeals and tumbles to a halt, and she throws the door open.

"Understood, sir," Shiner assures her, nodding firmly, although the grin simply broadens. "How about if I found you a padlock, though, sir? Would that help as a bribe? Because I'm pretty sure I can find one for you."

If Poppy's usual stoicism, relaxed, were considered to be easy-going and off-guard, that relaxed look flees, screaming as it goes. Her face gets that dark, scowly look again. "Don't push your luck, Mister." Then, muttered, as she stuffs her socks and underthings into her duffel, "Besides, the requisition is already in."

Shiner's grin falters a little and he simply nods, rolling up his duffel bag in his hands and twisting it idly. "I'll have the tea to you by this evening, sir. Soon as my ovies are done dhobeying."

Khloe slings her duffel over her shoulder and begins heading towards the exit. "You do that," she says in passing, and then she's gone.

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