PHD #471: Done Wrong
Done Wrong
Summary: Some time later, Burke tracks down his missing laundry, and he and Ginny talk about doing right by others and how too many people really aren't doing that.
Date: 12 Jun 2042 AE
Related Logs: This log takes place not too long after Done Right, wherein Zane left his laundry with Ginny
Burke Ginny 
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.
Condition Level: 3 - All Clear
Post-Holocaust Day: #471

Whatever errand it is that Major Zane Mathers needed to handle, the fact remains that the man has yet to return by the time Ginny's commenced pressing and folding her cousin's clothes. So, here she is, fastidiously tending to the garments. Nearby but out of the way, her knitting basket has been moved to the floor so she can maximize the counter space.

"Ah, there y'all are!"

Suddenly, Burke calls out from the hatch leading into the laundry, clad only in a military-issue towel that's being clasped about his waist by one hand - he never truly got the hang of tying knots so he can wear towels like clothes. He doesn't seem all that phased, however, padding across the floor towards his cousin, "Ginny-girl, Ah need muh drawers at least."

"Bumblebee?" Those doe eyes blink a few times at her towel-clad cousin. "Ah'm evah so sorry, cousin Beau. Ah hadn't realized that Ah left you with no clothes." How was she to know that he had nothing clean stashed somewhere? Since she started with the larger items, things such as socks and underwear have only been tentatively sorted. "You can find some coverin's right ovah there." That particular pile is indicated with a tilt of her head. Being that she's in the middle of ironing one of his duty green shirts, he'll just have to help himself.

"Y'ain't need t' be sorry, Ah'm glad y' did this 'stead a'me. Ah jus' make a mess of it." That said, Burke walks over to where his underwear lays. Sans modesty, a mindset that comes with being raised amongst a horde of siblings and then going off to become a pilot, he flings the towel over one of the washing machines and pulls on some of the aforementioned coverings, "Ah cain't even fold a shirt. True story."

If there were unlookers, some might be perturbed by Ginny's lack of being perturbed. The Lords and Ladies brought everyone into the world with not a single stitch of clothing, however, so mere nakedness doesn't bother her. "You can't? Why, that ain't right. You settle for a tick an' Ah'll teach you once Ah'm done pressin'."

Burke grins broadly at Ginny's words, "Ah reckon if Ah learned it, then Ah'd have to do it." Just joking, of course. He moves over and leaps up deftly onto the top of a washing machine, settling to watching Ginny and see just what she does.

What Ginny does is work that iron to get that fabric oh so smooth. "You know how to press?" she asks. "Ah dropped off your blues to be dry cleaned," she tacks on as an FYI.

"Yeah," Burke nods his head, leaning forward to get a better look, "Ah usually jus' press 'em to make 'em warm 'fore Ah wear 'em. Gets cold 'round here sometimes."

"A'right, then." If he says he knows how to press, she is not going to doubt him. The textile artisan, however, still reminds, "It's best to press 'em when they're fresh from the drier." Which sounds like dry-uh. "Once they cool, the wrinkles set in." Like a pro, all the other greens are soon steamed into flawless flatness, complete with leg creases so crisp that even Poppy would be in awe. "There." The 'r' is lacking in that word.

In the background, one of the washers stops. "Ah'll jus' be two shakes of a hound's tail," Ginny promises, moving the cart to aforementioned machine, which she begins to unload, for Mathers has failed to return before his wash cycle completed. "How fares Ellie Sue?"

"Right enough," Burke says with a nod, hopping off his perch and padding after Ginny even though she doesn't go that far away - almost puppy-like, "Still ain't a' the right talent t' fly her but one day." He stands less than two paces away, craning his neck to watch the mundane act of doing laundry with close interest.

Burke's hovering doesn't appear to bother or hinder her in the least. And once that washer is unloaded, she moves on to the one next to it that has also stopped. The CMC XO was long overdue for a laundry day, and she took it upon herself to use more than one machine to avoid an imbalanced load. "Ah'm glad t' hear she's farin' well. An' Ah don't doubt that one day you will." Which she means which all her being.

With the second industrial grade washer unloaded, she's pushing the cart towards some driers. For the nonce, she leaves it at that and returns to ironing. Damp clothes waiting causes no problems. Freshly cleaned and dried clothes, on the other hand, require ironing before the wrinkles really set in. "So," Ginny resumes, "foldin' a shirt…"

"Mhm," Burke nods his head and pays due attention to the shirt. For all his easy-going nature, when he's asked to pay attention he does it very well. He makes careful, mental note of how the shirt is laid out and the hand gestures involved, eyes fixated on the article of clothing. If he's concerned about standing around in his underwear, it's pushed to the back of his mind.

If Burke's not concerned about standing there in only his underwear, neither is Ginny. If he's not uncomfortable with the notion, she has no reason to be. Once she's finished ironing the t-shirt, she's smoothes it out on the counter and starts explaining. With her hands, she draws imaginary lines across the garment, breaking it into sections, and naming the points A, B, and C. With some pinching, arm crossing, more pinching, and a bit of shaking out, she shows her cousin how to quick fold like they do in professional laundromats. She repeats the process, again, once more detailing the steps. On the third go, she speeds it up and has it neatly folded in mere seconds. "Now you try."

Burke nods his head, taking the shirt and drawing the imaginary lines and points on it with the tip of his finger. Satisfied, he begins to try and fold it. It takes him a few pauses and some careful deliberation in his own head but eventually he has it folded. Not quite as neat as Ginny's example, but not a mess either. He turns, grinning and, yes, looking for approval.

Approval he gets in the form of an oh so bright smile and fond squeeze of his shoulders. "Now you know how t' fold a shirt, cousin Beau." Silly perhaps, but she's happy for his accomplishment. "Would you be a lamb an' carry on here while Ah tend to th' Mayjuh's laundry? He had a mattuh that needed his attention an' it just wouldn't be prahpuh t' leave his clothes like that."

Burke looks at the clothes for a moment, There's a frown in his eyes but he has the presence of mind not to let it reach his lips. And besides, Ginny asked him to do something and he's not about to not do it. Nodding his head, he sets about folding the clothes as he's asked, "Y'all don't hafta do laundry. Ah feel guilty with you slavin' away in here fer folks."

"Ah don't mind helpin' you none, Bumblebee. An' Mistah Zane, he's the Ex-Oh of the First Battalion Ninth Marines. You know, them fine folk who boarded the Areion t' help bring you home?" She glances over her shoulder while she continues to shake out and detangle the wet garments before loading them into a drier. "Ah reckon that tendin' to his clothes while he's tendin' to other matters," pronounced uh-thuh mattuhs, "is the least I can do on account o' what he did." And it would not be wise to even intimate to Miss Ginny Juniper Wells that her dear cousin isn't worth a little laundry.

"Well, if y'all don't mind then Ah don't mind havin' y'all," Burke says, apparently that matter is settled as far as he's concerned, "So, how's things treatin' y'all on that ol' civilian ship. People behavin' themselves?" His primary concern. He couldn't go very long without setting his mind at ease on that front.

"Ah don't mind," she restates, and that's that. As for life on the civilian ship, that conjures a mouse contrasted by a troubled sadness in her eyes. Softly, she admits, "People ain't behavin' as kindly as they oughta, and Ah must confess, shameful as it is, that Ah have unkind feelings in mah heart because of it."

Burke immediately stops with the folding, leaving it aside so he can move over and put an arm around Ginny's shoulders. Her being sad is far more important than dealing with clothes that need to be folded into neat little rectangles, "Now y'all tell me what's been happenin'. Ah might fly a ship now but Ah can still bust a jaw if some'un done my best cousin wrong."

"Oh, bustin' a jaw won't help none, but thank you kindly, cousin Beau." For the moment, she ceases with the laundry, and her shoulders sag a bit. "Ah reckon people are angry an' scared, an' that tends to bring out the worst in folk. Some of 'em, though… well," and here she frowns because she so does not like to criticize, "some of 'em were never raised right in th' first place an' they see no reason to learn bettah."

Turning to look at the man squarely, she offers a conciliatory smile. "No one's really done me wrong. Not directly. Not really. It just seems too many people aren't doin' right by others, is all, an' that's not right." Not the way she was raised. "Poor Miss Elpis, though…" The little girl that Ginny's been watching since Cameron Adair was beaten into a coma several weeks ago. "Mistah Zane says they'll catch who done him wrong, but Ah'm not certain Mistah Cam will evah recover." And that actually prompts a small sniffle and the threat of silent tears.

Beau keeps his arm wrapped around Ginny, as though protecting her even though the evils in question are across the vacuum of space in another ship, "Don't you fret none, Ginny-Girl. Ah'll keep y'all safe." He doesn't seem to grasp well onto the idea that it is his cousin worrying after other people and not herself, "Don't you fret none."

It's a smile that is sad for the state of things but fond of her cousin. "It'll sort itself out as it's meant'a, Ah s'pose. 'Tis the way of the Sparing Ones… " Of the Moirae, of the Fates, of those whom she has unshakable faith, for what they divine is Divine and well beyond the ken of mankind. "…painful as they sometimes are." Warmly, Ginny then hugs him and remains that way for some time, and then it's back to loading those driers. "How 'bout'choo, Bumblebee? You likin' it ovah here?"

"Ah like it enough," Burke answers, when the hug is finally ended though there was no sign that he wished to end it anytime soon, "Nice folks." He moves back over towards the things that need folding, picking them up so he can fold them closer to his cousin, "Ain't nobody mistreats me here."

"Ah'm glad t' hear that. They seem like good folk." The ones she met, at least. "An' Ah know you wouldn't allow yourself to be mistreated, or anyone else fo' the mattuh." Because Beauregard W. Burke is an upstanding person and she's proud to call him kin. Machines loaded and lint guards cleared, Ginny starts up those driers and then return to working on Burke's dwindling pile of things that need to be ironed and folded.

"When y'all're finished laundrin'," Burke says all of a sudden, finishing up a piece of folding, "Ah'm gonna take y'all down t' the mess t' get y'all some food. Now don't ch' argue none, because that's what we're doin'."

"How 'bout we go when we finish up here?" He said nothing about not negotiating. "Ah'll just leave a note for Mistah Zane, just in case he returns." After all, she did move all his laundry from the last place he knew it was, and dry cycles are certainly long enough to enable the Thalesians to enjoy a meal together.

"Works f'me," Burke says with a nod, smiling broadly at his cousin, "Y'know, I still remember some of momma's ol' recipes. Ah ain't much of a cook myself, but Ah reckon Ah could make us somethin' that reminds us of home. Well, next time we eat, that is. Tonight Ah s'pect it's jus' gonna be the ol' standards."

Eyes turn to Beau even as hands continue to neatly work. "They let you in the kitchen? That's mighty nice. Auntie Myrtle never was much of a cook, but then she didn't need to be. There was always someone bringin' over somethin' delicious in exchange for one of her beauty treatments." Ginny's family never lacked home cooked meals. Never mind that those meals were cooked in homes other than her own. "But your momma did make the most wonduhful peach cobbler."


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