PHD #210: EVENT - Kitsch... and Corpses
Kitsch…and Corpses
Summary: The West Aerilon Colonial Emporium is once again open for business!
Date: 24 Sep 2041 AE
Related Logs: None in particular. Aerilon related logs in general.
Bran Cilusia Cora Damon Evandreus Leyla Marko Sawyer Sofia Trask Ulixes 
West Aerilon Colonial Emporium, Southern Continent, Aerilon
It's a tourist's dream!
Post-Holocaust Day: #210

Welcome to the West Aerilon Colonial Emporium. tartan, Tartan, TARTAN everywhere! Well known and often the first stop on most tourist jaunts down to the southern continent of Aerilon, the Emporium boasted (and still boasts, though it closed, abruptly(!), on Warday) anything and everything a tourist might need and desire for their stay on the planet. Forgot an extra change of clothes? They've got it! Need a little extra shampoo or maybe a shower puff, they've got that too! Need some munchies, because your budget doesn't allow for room service, or you're not that fond of food off the hoof, come on down! How about some real, honest to goodness authentic Aerilon artifacts and keepsakes…oh, have you come to the right place!

The Emporium, true to the size of its name is massive, a collection of many different stores all in one(think something very like a Base Exchange). Designed to be a one-stop shop for tourists, and the occasional resident alike, the place has just about everything one might need, from toiletries to household goods to food and trinkets. A LOT of trinkets. And a LOT of things in tartan prints, with the obligatory I <3 Aerilon imprinted merchandise for souvenirs. In addition to the emporium itself, there's a supply warehouse in the rear where merchandise sits, waiting for a stock clerk who will never come, to place them on the shelves.

Welcome, shoppers, to The Emporium. Warday + 210 days.

A salvage crew from the Cerberus, some down specifically for the mission, some coming along as part of their R&R, have traipsed out from the three raptors that dropped them outside of the Emporium, and await a pair of Marines, who are giving a final perimeter check to the building, before the doors, never locked, because the Emporium never closes(!), are opened and the crew are allowed to move inside.

Let the shopping begin!

Buddy system, everyone! Okay, not really, but Cora and Sawyer seem to have somehow paired up on this mission, as they exit the Raptor together. "Your wardrobe might be limited but at least it's not all military issue," the captain is saying to the reporter, "Not that I really have any opportunities to ever wear anything else, but I'm a little tired of grey and olive drab, I have to say."

"I am going to frak this place for all it's worth," Damon says enthusiastically as he hops off his Raptor. He's got three massive laundry bags on him, 'appropriated' from the Deck rotation of collection. "Loot and pillage. If it ain't bolted down, I'm taking it." This is much in the vein of what he's been saying for the entire ride down, much to the chagrin of his Raptor-mates. Suffice it be said, he's excited. "Gone are the days of using soap to wash my hair. Shampoo, bitches!" He cackles with glee. "And dry-shaving is a thing of the past!" Oh, the simple pleasures of life.

Oooh. A store. Sofia likes shopping. Yay! there's shampoo and clothes and all that jazz. Sofia smiles at the Marines. She giggles at Damon, a few bags with her. "Shampoo, yeah… I look icky," She admits. She smiles at Damon, "I'll keep an eye out for shaving cream," She promises. She's happy too. Sofia will tag along with Damon there then. A second hand to hold bags if one will.

Crunch, crunch. That's the sound a diminutive deckie makes when hopping off the winglet of a Raptor onto the ground of the Emporium. "Yeah man. Your face looks worse than my pits," Cilusia says with a cackle…and an affectionate punch into Damon's arm. A love tap, really. "Kinda pissed that nabbed all those extra laundry bags. Hope nobody minds my skivvies sitting out on the bunk while I use mine for other purposes." Said back sticks out of the back of pocket, and she's got a cigarette stuck behind her ear, courtesy of the ship's CAG. Dressed 'casually,' she's got all her bangley beads and leather wrist bands on today as well. R&R for her, this trip!

"Who is to know if you wear a cocktail dress to bed. Doesn't the military have a don't ask, don't tell policy?" Sawyer ducks her head out of habit when exiting the Raptor, though the maneuver is hardly necessary. As with any other exhibition down to the planet, she's thrown on some marine issued black combat gear for the occasion. Dutifully, she follows after Cora. "I've a shopping list of things could be useful to the civilians: tennis shoes, boots, blankets, pillows, toiletry items, diapers - cloth or otherwise, bottles, formula…" It goes on and on, and so does Sawyer as they set forth on their little shopping spree.

Bran rolls a pen betwixt the fingertips of his right hand as he awaits the signal to truly begin things. With the area secure, he can disembark without too much fault at leaving his station and he does so while bringing an empty dufflebag in tow. He also has a deep pack for anything else and with pocketing his pen Pens stiffens his brow to the entrance of the Emporium. "Well, ladies and gentlemen of the Cerberus, let's get to it," is spoken up to everyone near to him and he begins to saunter towards the pair of marines and soon past them. He smiles all the while.

The doors to the Emporium, double-wide, doncha know, are locked back and the interior is only mostly dark. Mostly, because while the lights aren't working, the generator having run out of fuel months ago, the sun is bright and the emporium made heavy use of floor to ceiling windows. The front of the building is bright as day, the darkness and shadows growing deeper towards the rear. Luckily, everyone's been outfitted with flashlights and torches and other forms of illumination, with the request to pick up as many batteries as can be found.

Damon cringes when Cilusia punches him in the arm. "For frak's sakes. I got shot in that arm, y'know," he mutters at her. Of course, his arm is all but healed by now. "And I've seen your pits when you wear your off-duties," he says, waving a finger at her. "You dare compare the magnificent mane on my handsome face to that hideous forest of jagged daggers under your arms? Pfft." He playfully shoves his fellow deckhand away and slings an arm across Sofia's shoulders. "We'll fill up the bags with what we want. Then we'll grab good stuff that others on the ship'll want, and trade 'em off. We'll live like kings. Or queens. Whichever."

"There are certainly fewer people these days that they could tell on me to," Cora replies to Sawyer, "So that's a plus." She's forgone the marine gear today, apparently confident enough in the security of the location to arrive just in off-duties and her sidearm. And a couple giant duffle bags she's commandeered from somewhere. Ah, the perks of rank. As the journalist reads off her list, she nods, suggesting a few additions as they head into the mall and admitting, "I've got a list of my own, but that's just for friends, not civilians at large. I—" She cuts off to look over at Damon and Cilusia, and chuckle, shaking her head a little before asking, "D you have a preference where we head first?"

A sympathetic wince for Damon. "Owchies," She gently pats his shoulder. Sofia tilts her head, "Do you think there's a pharmacy here? Medbay might like a reload on aspirin," She admits. She takes a deep breath. "I've got a list for clothes, medical and bath stuff and um, maybe some candy." A deep blush. She tries not to look like she just realized she heard about Cilusia's underarms. "Where do you guys think we should go?" Then a pause. Well, Sofia has three bags and Cil one so … she offers a spare laundry bag over. "Here, it would be kinda mean not to offer." She pauses at Cora and blushes again. Whoops.

Marko stretches a little after the Raptor hop, looking around the area curiously. "Always heard about this place." he comments to Leyla. "Wanted to check it out, see if it was all it was cracked up to be. Always imagined it more….crowded than this." he says, chuckling softly. "Anything in particular you're looking for, Sweet Pea?"

"Queen in my case…and, well, in your case too, the way you're milking that flesh wound. Maybe we should get you some tampons while we're redistributing all this wealth?" Like everyone else, Cilusia has her own little mental checklist in mind, some things she would've liked to have had on this cruise, but didn't quite get around to picking up from home in between transfers and brigging. The second bag, forked over by Sofia, is stuffed into another pocket, and the cig is taken from her ear. Lighting up, she lazily strolls along, letting fate take the terrible trio where they need to be.

Bran slows down at the entrance and looks skywards rather than left or right, or relatively forward. The man wrinkles the bridge of his nose at a moment of idle distaste and knits his brows before relaxing his expression and continuing forward. After a glance over his shoulder, the Lieutenant reaches for his side and produces a flashlight as he begins to explore deeper into things and further away from the light of day. It clicks on and he listens to the hollow thuds of his boots as the beam and his gaze rolls back and forth.

"I say we forgo the novelties, bypass the cheap tourist crap and go…hah. Look at that. Little sheep snowglobes." So much for staying on track, Sawyer nudges Cora to look at the little plastic domed farms. "Well. Maybe some toys for the kids, right? Plushie ewe, anyone?" As the reporter passes a display, she takes some of the fist sized stuffed animals and shoves them in her bag, going for a larger number of small items, than a smaller number of large items.

Leyla is one of the last people off of the raptors, but she too seems to have come with some shopping in mind. She's got her standard issue ginormous duffel bag, though lord knows how she'll manage to carry it, the thing being nearly as large as she is, and likely just as heavy when full, plus her laundry bag. She couldn't steal anyone else's. Curse hawkish pilot eyes. Well, maybe that's why she seems to be sticking close to Flasher. "I've only ever seen ads for it." As for what she might like, she makes no bones about it. "A small lap harp. And a small set of bagpipes." Why she'd want them, having no musical talent whatsoever, is anyone's guess. "Also, I wouldn't mind some stuff for a shower. Oh, and some cigarettes. Maybe loose tobacco. I know just who might like them." You know, besides herself. "Oh, and anything we could find for the kids." The kids in question being the ones she and Marko helped bring back from the surface.

You say, "What about you, Flasher?"

"Heh, I have no idea, Sweet Pea." Marko replies with a smirk, shaking his head a little. "I've never been much good at shopping even before all this." he explains. "But this? The last shopping spree after the end of the world? I'm kinda stumped. I'll know what I want when I see it."

"Keep 'em for yourself," Damon retorts to Cilusia. "I don't need you showin' up with stains, tryin' to pass 'em off them as grease spills." He's a gentleman and a scholar. They all are, on the Deck. "Sofie, from the size of this frakking place, I think they got just about everything you could want in there. Maybe I'll grab some shit that I can tear apart and use the parts from." The tinkerer's mind starts to wander now, thinking of all the possibilities. "And candy, mm. Or snacks, anyway. Some frakking hot sauce, too, so I never have to actually taste any of the galley food again." A dreamy smile spreads on his face. "Split up or stay together? I say we go deep, while all the others are millin' around up front gawking. Get to the good stuff, yeah?"

Cora snorts softly as Sawyer gets sidetracked so easily, but she does stop and look, admitting, "Yeah, they'd probably go over well in the hangar." She waits while the other woman gathers some up, suggesting, "I should have someone work on doing a broad inventory of the warehouse, so we can see what useful items are available in bulk and just load up the Raptors. There should be…." She trails off and looks about, and then calls an ensign already possessed of a clipboard over and sends him off on that errand, telling Sawyer, "Now I can feel a bit less guilty about shopping for myself."

Evandreus comes trailing along sometime after Leyla. He's flown into port here some number of times more than a few and less than a lot, and as he passes through into the emporium, despite the number of years since his last visiting the place, muscle memory sort of seems to take over, his eyes glassing over with a weary thoughtfulness while his feet take him along the route he used to take to pick up a bag of candies and a soda while stopping over here.

An amused look at Cilusia. She nods at Cil, and Sofia decides to stay near Damon. she smiles faintly a moment at Sawyer and nods. She'll grab a toy or two then. Plushie Ewe! A box of blocks is loaded in too. She grins at Damon. "Eeew, that's bad," She wrinkles her nose. "Hey yeah! That's a good idea," She beams. She nods at Damon, "I'll follow you," She promises.

"Oh SHIT. I know EXACTLY what I need to get," Cilusia just blurts out. Anyone could tell that, by looking at that crazy mane of hair, she could really use a few gallons of frizz-control shampoo. "I just wonder if they have my brand," she comments wryly. Doubtful that an Aerilonian shop would have shampoo made for Scorpian hair (it's about one-million percent humidity where she's from, and that's pure SCIENCE!), but she's going to check nonetheless. "Well, if we go deep and I find a box of razors, like one of those boxes with packages and packages of razors, you're carrying it."

Sunlight mixes with torchlight, highlighting the beads and baubles, trinkets and trifles of the emporium. Perhaps one of the reasons this place was chosen over some of the other more…reputable establishments, is the almost pristine conditions of the place. for better or worse, there's been almost no scavenging. Even in the food section, which, despite the perishables long since having…perished, is filled with cans and tins and dry boxes.

Leyla flashes a smile back to Bunny, as she sees the taller pilot coming up behind her, "Bun, if you find anything Jugs might like, let me know. I'll make sure there's room for it. I've got plenty of bag space." A glance to Marko, to see if he wants to head in with Bunny, before she steps forward, pulling up a strip of jerky, turning it over to peer at the freshness date. "I used to live on this stuff in flight school."

Damon winks to Sofia. "Stick with me, and I guarantee you'll hear worse," he promises her. Is that supposed to be reassuring? "And if you think I'm carrying your shit, you haven't seen the size of these frakking bags," he says to Cilusia, pointing at his laundry collection bags. "These are the bags that laundry bags go into, dammit. I'm gonna be dragging these back to the Raptor by the time I'm done." He unslings his arm from around Sofia's shoulders to jab at the knuckledragger. "You can learn to shave your pits with a straight-razor." Deeper and deeper into the store he leads them, his eyes swiftly assessing and inventorying the shelves around him.

"It's all shopping for ourselves, no matter who ends up with the end product. The distribution is the thing, making sure everyone gets at least what they need. And if we can do more?" Sawyer flashes a passing smile at Sofia as their paths diverge for a moment, and then she splits off with Cora again. "That's actually something I wanted to talk to you about. It's about time we start thinking about reforming a governmental system…." The reporter fingers a rack of kilts hanging on a rack. "Skirts. Unpractical." She starts to step away in pursuit of something else, but pauses and looks back at the wool garments. "Say, don't they put yards and yards of fabric into these things?" She starts looking at the tartan more closely, inspecting the stitching to see if it can be removed and the fabric salvaged.

"Hey Bunny." Marko calls, waving as he ambles into the mall, looking around him curiously. "Heh, why don't we just grab everything we can and ship it back?" he muses. "I mean, Gods know, we're hard up for supplies. We could pack it all up and sort it out later." he observes.

"Hmmm, I wonder if there's any electronics in this place. Bannik'd probably cream himself if we brought him back some pretty new gadgets to muck around with huh? I mean, isn't he from here?" On the way toward the back, Cilusia keeps her eyes peeled for any sort of salon or beauty supplies store…for what that's worth on a battlestar. "Personal hygiene supplies…some casual clothes…books…trinkets…" she mumbles to herself as she hikes along behind Sofia and Damon, because apparently they're lovers now.

"Yo," Evan calls back to Marko, again, sort of as if on auto-pilot, himself. Into the little newspaper stand, where, maybe oddly, he finds himself first drawn to the newspapers, pulling one off of a rack and perusing it with an aimless gaze before he tosses it onto the checkout counter, lifting his hand instead to the lollipops still arranged prettily on the spinning tree, branching out in all directions as he turns it, looking for a favorable flavor.

A smile and a soft laugh. "I hear it from Shiner too," Sofia admits with an amused look. She blushes at the arm around her shoulder. "I'll help carry if mine don't get too full," She offers. Sofia pauses, looking over to Cilusia. "That's a good idea," She nods. She'll keep an eye out for electronics. She nods at Sawyer, smiling as they split. Lots of cloth! Then her eyes go wide at shaving with a straight razor. "Yikes. That sounds a hair dangerous."

"That's not precisely what I meant," Cora replies to Sawyer, "But I agree, distribution of the goods acquired for the civilians will be especially key." She too smiles at Sofia as they pass, and then adds to Marko as the ECO wonders aloud, "We won't be the only salvage team in here, we're just the advance. If you see something you think might be useful to have aboard but is too large to carry or is available in bulk, make a note and we'll make sure it gets picked up. We can't empty the whole place because it would take too long, but we will be getting more than what those of us here now can fit in our duffle bags, so don't worry about that." To Sawyer and the kilts she turns back and nods, "So I've heard. We might be able to repurpose them. I bet there are crates of these around here."

And Cora's reassurance seems to stymie the brief attack of conscience Marko was having. "Ah, okay, good deal." he replies, bobbing his head a little before making a bee line for the first clothing store he can find. "Skivvies….New skivvies…." he says to himself as he goes. "Several packs…."

Leyla, finding that the jerky treats (Snap into a Slim Jim!), still have a few months left on them, pulls down all of them she can find, starting her collection of things, before she turns in Bunny's direction. Which means, she'll be passing by a bin full of touristy Aerilon branded t-shirts, 3 for 10 cubits! All neatly folded and in all different sizes and colours, and those start finding their way into her duffel to, "I agree, we can mass ship things back for the quartermaster to distribute, certainly. I don't mind making the extra trips down. But there's no harm in letting people come down and get a few things for their very own."

Damon groans. "A hair dangerous? You're killing me," he says to Sofia. "You think Bannik's ever, y'know, creamed himself? Or someone else? He might loosen up a bit if he did." He's just talking aloud now, flashlight waving this way and that as they get into darker and darker territory. Something in particular catches his eye, which not many others might notice right off the bat - tea. Boxes and boxes of teabags, rows of tea infusers, cases of teapots and cups, and anything else one might need for the preparation, making, and consumption of tea. "Teeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaa," he says, drawing out the word in a singsong tone. "Yeeeeees. Damon likes." And Damon takes.

"We should have tape, or sticky notes or something to mark what is useable. So that this process doesn't have to be repeated." Sawyer unsnaps one of the kilts and stuffs it in her bag, then starts making a pile of the others in the aisle to be carted back later by others. "Hope people like plaid." That done, she follows after Cora onto the next aisle. A few boxes of sheep shaped cookiesque crackers make their way into her bag. "Anyways, our civilian population continues to grow, and eventually running simply off martial law is going to get sloppy and dangerous. It's time to start thinking about a proper government again. The future. Stability. I'm going to get in touch with this Rose woman, start seeing what can be put together. I've spoken to the XO about it previously but…" Sawyer pauses, seemingly distracted, though she shifts a gaze sidelong to Cora. "…I'm talking a full blown election."

Bran doesn't bother with the small things at the front of the store or the middle of it, at least not yet. Instead, he's headed off towards the rear of the structure. He's joined by an Ensign-type and they come to a locked door. Sam Bran will not be having a locked door stop him from being further explorative and he draws his Dragon from its holster before aiming it at the lock. After looking around, he pulls the trigger once and then once more in order to blow a hole in the door. The ECO holds the beam of his flashlight forward and holds his sidearm at a low angle as the wide doors swing open. He's greeted by a foul, fetid and strong odor. It smells like dead people. In fact, over the radio is the Taurian's despondent voice, "This is Pens," there's a beat, "We've got dead back here in inventory."

Snap into a Slim…Jim? At the back of the store there the flashlights are basically a necessity. While Damon finds desiccated tea leaves, and Leyla finds desiccated imitation beef products, the beam of Cilusia's flashlight finds…a desiccated body. "Oh my gods…" Cilusia says, without the joking tone to her voice. "I…guess we should've expected this at some point, but gods." The body is quite dry, mummified more than gooey icky decomp, and it seems to be on the bottom rack behind some small appliances. Inoffensive and friendly toasters, those.

Groan. A soft sigh. "Sofia likes too, Medbay doesn't like when Sofia drinks," She wrinkles her nose. But still, she loads up her bag with a little of it to share. "But that doesn't mean I can't share or keep one bag for me and the other for everyone else," She offers. Then a deep blush at the idea of Bannik being naughty. "I don't see Bannik as naughty ever…" Notably, a couple of teacups and some tea goes into her bag. Does she have a death wish? "Hey I wonder if they have any bras… Did I just say that out loud?" She blushes. A wince at the news. Oh boy. Snacks disappear into both bags too. Oooh, cookies.

The invasion of another personage into the newspaper stand startles Evan out of his melancholia, and he begins to pluck the fake tree clean of the big round lollipops, opening up his bag and setting them inside three and four at a time, then begins to clean out the gum and candy racks below the counter. "Oh, man. Candy corn. Probably stale, but— it's even good, stale."

Sheep-shaped caramels (yes, really) and local chocolates get to be first into Cora's bag, before she focuses in on a display of tartan blankets, arranged in alphabetical order by the family name associated with each. "We should have these collected for sure," she says before nodding at Sawyer, "Some sort of flagging system would be useful." Not that she seems to have an idea of how to do that just at the moment, distracted by shopping and listening to the bits about elections. "What do you envision the role of a civilian government being, exactly?" she asks.

Tea, coffee, and various snacks get swept into Damon's bag as he just about flies down the aisle in what can only be described as a gleeful frenzy. "Right, everyone else," he echoes to Sofia. "You let everyone else have a little bit of the goodies - just a taste. That gets 'em hooked, that's what keeps them coming back for more." His pace of ransacking slows down as he gets closer to Cilusia, a familiar and wholly unpleasant scent starting to overcome him. "Is that… oh, for frak's sakes," he grumbles, covering his face with his arm, the beam of his flashlight wavering over the corpse. "Heurgh. All right, time for the next aisle, I think. Maybe it's got bras for Sofie. And Cilusia's not allowed to be on point."

The Marines pick up on Bran's transmission, sending back along the same frequency, "Copy that, Lt. Sending in a recon team behind you." Truth, they were already on their way in, having heard the sound of shots fired inside the store. March, march, march, double-time, as the Marines make their way towards the rear. And they're not picking up souvenirs to take back to the ship.

For his part, Marko makes his way randomly through the joint, organizing his shopping list as he goes. He starts with the basics, stuff like socks and skivvies and soap and the like. Then he goes for books, as many as he can get his hands on.. Someone's out of reading material, it seems.

"Hey…not my fault that this is where that person went to…you know. If I knew that, I wouldn't have come this way!" Along with Sofia and Damon, she is shoveling in assorted tea and coffee supplies, figuring that to be valuable tender aboard, for people who are tired of Colonial military-issued mess coffee and tea. It's…beyond institutional in lack of quality. "Though, if I knew where we were going, I'd be in the shoe section already. I'd like to have something above and beyond boots, you know?"

Bran holsters his sidearm and then looks to the bloke next to him. "Give me that," is choked out and he takes the clipboard before aiming his flashlight down onto it. He breathes in and out through his mouth rather than his nose and offers the board back before rolling the flashlight's beam along the entrance to the back work area and storage. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Six months does not make a corpse look pleasant, especially in groups. A long string of Taurian is muttered dryly and he kneels down near to one, covering his lower face in the process. "Assistant manager… Quinta," he then stands and begins to head out, if only so he can breathe again and meet the incoming marines or anyone else.

Sofia loads up too. A few snacks for her, tea and coffee for buddies and civvies. She's thoughtful that way. She happily stays with Damon and Cilusia. Another blush, "You don't have to if you don't want to … though it'd be nice. Hey, I bet the shoes are a few aisles or a shop down from there. We'll do that too and something for Damon," Beam. Sofia winces at the body, but her horror is internalized. There's an odd, fearful look on her face. Right. She stays out from underfoot of any Marines.

"Ummm…here we go." Sawyer looks around and grabs a bunch of envelopes off a greeting card display. 'Happy Birthday to Ewe' will no longer have a sleeve for it. She hands over a stack of the colorful things, "Green for top priority, Blue for 'it'd be nice to have' and red for 'don't bother'." Sawyer licks the flap of a green one and folds it over the price display for those blankets, essentially flagging it as a necessity for the first round of pickin's. "Essentially, the people are going to start getting discontent, feeling like…for lack of a better word…sheep. They're going to want a voice, a say in the goings on. Rather than all shouting at once, if we could get them into a focused singular presence…well, I'm sure it would be less of a headache for you. And it's time to start organizing them so they feel as if they have a life again. The children need education, the adults need job satisfaction more so than my civilian volunteer workforce can provide." Sawyer tilts her head. "Dead bodies. It was only a matter of time, I suppose. I guess the majority of them hid in the back when bombs fell…" Sawyer is weeding her way through the store with Cora.

The Marines waste little time in arriving at Bran's location, coming up behind him for his sitrep. But this is a salvage mission, at the end of it all, and a few of them move out to the rear of the warehouse, to open out the freight doors. Both to add more light to the room and to help clear out the smell. It's not pleasant, but…they're Marines. There are no smells a Marine cannot overcome. They're like hills.

"Tasty is a matter of definition." Says Leyla re: candy corn. And if she's a hypocrite, as she seems to have a fondness for fake meat snacks, well. "I'm going to go see if I can find some shower supplies, any scent you prefer?" See? She knows about stuff like that! Mostly. Oh! batteries. A big old wall of them, and those go in her bag too.

Basics are covered, books are gathered and Marko is on to find food and snacks and the like. Fortunately, this is a big place, lots of stores that haven't been ransacked by the snipes.

"Oh - and something more than half-ply for toilet paper'd be nice, yeah?" Damon says, adding to the list. He might as well have forgotten about the corpse already now that he's not looking at it anymore. "Nah, it's all right," he says to Sofia with a grin. "I understand, y'know, women need bras. You two can try on all the bras you want, and I'll… keep the area secure. And well-lit." He clicks his flashlight a couple times. "Ooh, what's this stuff?" he asks, grabbing a box from the shelf. "Powdered drinks. Y'know, add to water and mix types." He tosses a box to Cilusia and one to Sofia. "Want some? Beats the hell out of drinking plain old water all the time, that's for sure." Into the bag they go.

"Hells to the yeah," Cilusia replies, catching a box and dumping it in the bag. "What do we have? Fruit punch, that's a staple. Got lemonade? Orange? Purple?" It's never grape, always purple, at least where she was growing up. As for bras? Well, Cilusia could look and and very easily see the toes of her boots. And the tops of her boots. And probably up to the ankles of her boots. "Yeah, about those," she quips to Damon…mostly because she doesn't have much of those.

Sofia smiles a little. She loads up on some of the powdered drink, "The kids'll love this stuff too," She nods. She splits her finds evenly between the civvie and Sofia bag it seems. "Thank you," She bobs her head at Damon. She nods at Cil, "Well, I'll follow you guys." She beams. And Sofia is among those scavenging snipes. Alas! The deckies seem to have a pet engineer. "I think my powdered stuff is Fruit punch too."

Bran gives the necessary information to the marines and then turns with a short pivot, pointing out the bodies and their locations. There are seven in total, back here, and he makes it known that he would rather like to provide some semblance of a proper burial before looting anything from the Emporium. With that said he steps out into the open with a hop down from the freight entrance and then drops his hands to his knees, flashlight mashing into his left. Pens promptly begins throwing up.

Wait…what is this? Marko nearly passes the shop in his haste, then freezes, a grin starting to spread across his face. Now _this_ has the potential to be useful. "Bootstrap, Flasher. I got something over here you might wanna come take a look at." he calls over his radio. "Trust me, sir, it's right up your alley." he grins.

The rack of magazines next to the candy rack is eyed but eventually left to be, the contents edging on the way too depressing, in the Bunny's eyes. "I always liked them," he'll put out there in tacit agreement with Lala's claim on the disparate nature of personal taste. "I'm good with whatever. I like the minty ones, though." Pills. Just little packets of one-off pain relievers, hangover cures and pep pills. Why not? Into the bag.

"There's fruit punch, uh… pink, purple, orange, blue, green, and… brown?" Damon holds up the box of 'brown' powder mix with a quizzical look. It gets tossed to Cilusia. "Who the frak is gonna drink brown? Give that one to Shiner." Onward! There are bottled drinks of all kinds which he looks over, but doesn't take. Too much weight and bulk for his liking, apparently. "Hmm. I think we got enough drink stuff, yeah?" he asks the other two once they reach the end of the aisle. "All right, Sofie - you choose an aisle this time. You find another dead body and you're fired from taking point, too."

"That'll do," Cora nods to Sawyer's system, taking a handful of envelopes for herself as well. Boxes of shortbread cookies get swept into her bag by the armload and she moves along, commenting, "Well, first of all I have to remind you that all of this is the colonel's decision, not mine. This is his fleet. But I think there is some merit to the idea of giving people an outlet. And I agree that there needs to be more organization among the civilian community, though programs and things are also going to have to come from within to a certain extent, and all of this pales in comparison to the necessity of finding another ship to relieve our space issues. But, hypothetically speaking, do you have a structure for this government in mind. Also, that looks like a pharmacy," she points, heading that way, "I've got a long list of toiletry requests."

The Marines bully boy the back doors of the warehouse open, and let their be light, as the sunlight from the outside streams into the warehouse proper. With the bodies now on full display, they move to the not so enviable task of moving the bodies out into the delivery lot behind the building. Unless Cilusia, who was graced with a rather jerkified corpse, these have more of the appearance, and the aroma of bog mummies. But, if its any credit to the Marines, at least the bodies don't break apart as they're being taken out. As for Bran? Helpful Ensign Mathers, now with hands free, since Pens took his clipboard, offers the El-Tee a roll of paper towels, helpfully torn out of their wrapper and a bottle of pure artesian water.

One of the best things about being a Squadron Leader is having lackeys. The Harriers' own doesn't hesitate putting them to work, either. While some the crew are busy off-loading empty storage crates from the Raptors, several runners are dispatched to find flatbed carts and any other items that will assist in the moving of merchandise. Then, commandeering a shopping cart, Trask starts to navigate the many aisles. Pushing with one foot, the other on the bottom rail, he idly scooters across the floor. "Oh?" he replies to Marko over the chan. "What might that be?" Meanwhile, baby and children's goods are spotted at 3 o'clock. Zoom!

What can brown do for you? Heh. "It's probably cocoa, you frakkin ox," Cilusia tells Damon, punctuating her little piece of advice with another little love punch…this time to the back of a shoulder since she's behind him. "Haven't you ever had cocoa? Or is that too refined for a walking, talking ape like you? I mean with that beard, I can picture you swinging around in the jungles where I grew up." Acting a fool behind him, she mimics the way he walks a bit, but exaggerates it to make it look like cro-magnon woman.

"I think so too, I got one or two boxes for each bag," She admits. Sofia looks around. "Hhm, usually there's a lingerie or clothing store fairly close to the main stuff," She nods and will lead them towards the shoes and underthings. Snipe Sense(TM). "We should stop by some toiletries too," She notes. Sofia smiles. "That should be near that way," She points. "I have a feeling." She giggles at Cilusia. "Oh be careful walking like that… they won't be able to resist you," Beam. She'll lead them towards the underthings and boots. "So underthings or boots first?"

"Bootstrap, Flasher. Oh, nothing much, sir. Just a tobacconist's shop. A _big_ tobacconist's shop, over?" Marko radios with a chuckle, checking his watch. " Okay, three, two, one, mark." he smirks, touching a stud on the side to start the devices' stopwatch mode.

Leyla pauses, stepping forward to attempt to place a hand on Bunny's forearm, "You come find me in a few, okay?" There's a smile, for the taller man. "I'll use my flashlight as a signal so you can find me." See? She turns on the light, and holds it pointing up to illuminate the ceiling over her head. The easier to find her in the tall aisles. Batteries are secured, and she starts off towards the travel sized containers of supplies. All space/airline approved and all. But she's not far from Bunny, near enough that she can still see him, if she looks back and cranes her neck. Rummage, rummage, rummage. It's all good and it's all going in her duffel.

Bran holds up a hand to the ensign and then tries to reorganize his senses, gain his wits and stand. The paper is taken and used to clean himself up and he tries not to pay attention to the remembrance of the smells, or sights, or the fact that he can still see the corpses as they are pulled out from the back of the building. "Thanks," is uttered weakly. He places a fist, one that clutches more paper towel, momentarily over his mouth and then nods back to the building. The two can get back to work. He'll go slowly about things is all while the Ensign catalogs once they recover that clipboard.

Damon exaggerates stumbling forward when he gets punched yet again. "The shit I put up with on the Deck, I tell you," he says to Sofia, shaking his head. But the way Miss Ape is walking is pretty funny, and he grins despite himself. "Backtalk, insubordination, mockery, and everything in between. I oughta crack the whip." Wa-chaa! He mimes the motion at Cilusia. "As for the choices," he says to Sofia, "I could use some shoes for PT, so I'll go look at footwear. You gals do what you need to do in the other section and come meet me there?"

"Yo, Rimshot," Bootstrap hails over the radio, "grab a cart an' meet me at— " Beat. Then Marko addressed, "Uh, where /exactly/?" Quinn and the little bastard in her belly will just have to wait. After all, who's gonna bogart baby clothes? Aerilonian cigars, on the other hand…

Sawyer perks her head in the direction that Cora indicates, then shifts her bag to her other shoulder and heads off after Cora. "I'm not coming to you for official military sponsorship, I'll file all the forms for that. I'm coming to you as a friend. My kingdom for some menstrual cramp relievers and some antacids." The two thoughts seem completely unrelated. "It'll run similar, at least in my mind, to the standard Colonial government. President, vice president, delegates from each colony to make sure we cover religious and political differences. Then I would like there to be committees for things like education, housing, and so on. Oooh, tobacco, did you hear that?"

Frak, Marko forgot to tell Trask where the shop is. "Wait one." Marko replies over the radio, resetting his stopwatch. "Okay, Bootstrap, if you're at the main entrance, it's about forty meters in on your right." he calls, finger poised over the start button. "I'll blink might light down that way so you can use it to find me." he adds, starting to set action to words. Now that Trask has his co-ordinates, Marko starts his stopwatch.

"What are you gonna do? Brig me? That's rich, given your history." And Cilusia's own, of course. "Yeah, that makes sense. You weren't going to get a peek at anything anyway!" And with that, Cilusia peels off from mocking Damon, and heads on out with Sofia to raid the panty section.

The Emporium, long abandoned, mostly, and long silent, rings with the sound of voices, as the advance scouts move through the building, some marking, some collecting, some racing over to collect things which they were sure they might not see again. And as for Kal's lackeys, well, they've moved around to the rear of the building and are using the doors the Marines were kind enough to open, to assist them in the beginning of the onloading of supplies.

A soft laugh. Then a deep blush. "I already know my size," She admits. "But the civvies and folks might like some underthings and bras," Sofia admits. She doesn't smoke, so the tobacco discussion is lost on her. Either way, she nods at Damon. "That sounds good. Meet you in a moment?" She beams and leads Cil over. The bras have a varied selection, some padded, some lacey, some normal. Sofia pauses and sighs. "Ooh, hey, black ones are handy… Look, I'm the Flyman. Bzzzzzzzz."

Only in Aerilon would they place the kids department right next to the liquor and tobacco. Even if that were not the case, Trask is an ECO, which means mad navigation skillz, yo. In lieu of FTL, he pushes the cart like a one-man Idiotarod. Did he just set a new Colonial record in the 40-Meter Tobacco Dash? Quite possibly. "Good work, JiG," he compliments Marko, scanning the name tags and assorted packaging before zeroing in on his favorite. "I'll remember this at your next performance review."

Cora heads into the pharmacy, sweeping through shelves until they get to shampoo and conditioners and picking out particular ones she tosses in multiples into her bag. "We should probably just have this whole place emptied," she comments to Sawyer, before the mention of tobacco catches her ear. "I did," she replies, hesitating, "And I think that sounds like every person in the hangar will have a political appointment and it'll defeat the purpose of consolidating them into a few voices. Down the road, sure, but to start I think we need to think smaller, more tightly organized. As far as committees go, anyway. And I'd hesitate to give anyone the title 'president of the colonies'. Maybe you should go make sure the boys don't get all the good stuff, and I'll grab what we need in here?"

Evandreus starts to feel like he ought to pick up the pace. Especially as he notices how floppy the huge duffel still is, with the few goods he's tossed in there sort of sloshing to one side. "Oh, hey, sure, I'm good. I'll keep an eye out for you," he assures Lala with a chipper enough smile, then, pulling his own lantern, he flicks it on and heads out at a good clip down away from the newsstand and through the aisles, wasting no more time but finding — yes — the baby clothes. Picking up Bootsies' slack, or else shopping for the two Evans still aboardship. Planning ahead, too, getting stacks of shirts for different age intervals, tucking his light below his armpit as he squints at the labels.

"You don't even have anything to peek at!" Damon shoots back to Cilusia. "And I'll brig your ass if I want! I wield the Wrench of Ultimate Power until the Chief takes it back!" Of course, it's been so long that everyone on the Deck has gotten used to Damon being their de facto boss. "Don't take too long now, or I'll have to look in to make sure you're safe and all," he calls to the two of them as he sits down to try on some running shoes. Ooh, and new shower sandals would be nice, too. Before he knows it, he's got a stack of boxes with various footwear sitting next to him. And some stuff for others, too, can't forget the others.

Once Leyla's collected all of the supplies that were to be found in the bins(even the hair gel. The end of the world is no reason not to look good), she actually moves on to a few of her own needs, heading towards a set of glass display cases, where the supposedly authentic trinkets are to be found. Jackpot, once she uses the back of her flashlight to smash the glass of the display case (oops), she removes one of the musical instruments she was looking for and sets it into her bag, case and all, before she continues rooting around.

Marko laughs and cuts his stopwatch as Trask arrives. "Wow, thirty two seconds, sir." Marko grins. "I think you just set some kind of land speed record." he jokes. "I won't make any promises about quality." he cautions. "But, as you can tell." he says, gesturing to the shop front. "They've got the quantity side of it nailed."

"Yeah, yeah…I don't have much there…but I got a great ass. And I know you're going to miss it, but you'll love to see it go!" Whoa now, that's an oldie, but still a goodie. And just to make sure he misses it, she gives it an exaggerated little swish back and fort. "Just chuck the whole racks' worth in, really. We can sort out the sizes later. But I can tell you, if there's one thing that helps people feel like, oh you know, they aren't stuck on a battlestar, it's wearing normal clothes once in a while. Scoop it all up, and we can split it up between crew and civvies later on," says Cilusia to Sofia…as she takes an armful of bras and dumps them into a laundry bag.

"Okay!" Sofia beams, she tries not to giggle at the exchange between Cil and Damon. "You guys are great," She murmurs. It's a happy change. "And yeah, I know right?" She agrees. "I donated all my spares almost to the civvies but that includes a few operatic costumes I had. I hope they liked Aida," She wrinkles her nose and dumps in a few red and black bras, some matching sets and peers around. "Boxers on the other side. We should make them dance for them maybe?"

Sawyer looks at a few things, even going so far as to read the label. "This is all usable. Spray paint the whole frakker green." Sawyer smirks over at Cora. "That's precisely why you have delegates, and an election. Each person voices their opinion by casting a vote. There's something to be said about the democracy of it all. Don't sell it so short. I think the people are more capable of organizing under a common figurehead than you realize." She looks around and takes a few more selected toiletries off the shelf, but it's things like children's aspirin and diaper cream. Hopefully neither of that is for the reporter. "I'll leave you to marking this place green for extraction and wander over to see what the boys are up to. Ooh, vitamins…" She mutters, on her way out of the little particular store front.

Bran finishes collecting the names of the deceased and looks to the rest of the store, listening to the echoes produced by everyone else around. "What the," he gives a start, shakes his head, and turns around to help the marines and lackeys. He has since stopped shooting at locked doors, and has pocketed his flashlight for the time being given the light nearby; and he's stopped finding new dead bodies. That's a bonus. He's loaded up his bags with fresh civilian clothes, some candy, and a board game, and has changed his mind. That means doing the devout and religious thing of taking care of the bodies.

"Irradiated is irradiated," Kal quips to Flasher's disclaimer about quality, "but even the worst of this lot is so much better than the Fleet-issued crap." The massive military backpack that he brought along is reached for and opened, and with a kid in a candy store glee, the SL starts collecting every single pack that he finds of the Allegheny tobacco he oh so covets. He'll leave the rest of the planet to the others, but he is so calling dibs on all things from this province.

"Get it right!" Damon snorts as Cilusia sways away. "It's 'I hate for you to go, but I love to watch you walk away'." Six of one, half-dozen of another, really. Still, he does watch her walk away for what that's worth. It's the end of the universe - he'll take what he can get, thank you very much. Back to the shoes. He's found a pair of runners he likes, and he tries them out walking up and down the way, then sprinting back and forth. "Hm. Comfy," he murmurs to himself, stretching out his legs. "Could use a bit more arch support, but… better than year-old shoes, that's for sure." Into the bag of finite but massive holding!

Shortly thereafter, the Ensign known as Rimshot arrives with his own cart. Pausing before the twin alters of booze and smokes, he says in a reverent hush, "Frakdamn."

"We'll get a Chaplain down here on the next transport, El-Tee, no need to do this unless you really want to." But the decision is left up to Bran to make, as the Marines step away from the bodies, moving to join Kal's Krew in moving the supplies. Thank goodness for flat bed hand trucks and pallet jacks. The warehouse isn't massive, certainly, it's not even industrial sized, but it's serviceable, given the relatively isolated location of the Emporium and the infrequency of deliveries. Seems the first team is moving soft goods first, and food second.

"Hey, that's a good idea. Make them dance in them maybe!" Cilusia gets to giggling at that. "Or…you ever seen those Pyramid games on holoband or whatever? See how they pack in those promo t-shirts and shit inside those pressure guns? We could rig one of those up, and hand out stuff that way!" Cilusia chortles…loading a few armfuls of boxers (including cartoon character ones, and definitely a lot of sheep-print) into one of her laundry bags as well.

"I wonder if there is spray paint in here," Cora says thoughtfully, looking around at the signs for each isle. A quick dry glance is shot the reporter's way before she replies, "I understand how elections and representative governments work, Sawyer. I just think it's important not to overreach, because you can always add services and committees but taking them away later would be a disaster. And I think it's also key to be clear beforehand on how this structure will function in relation to the military. But yeah, go make sure we get our hands on some of the good tobacco and I'll do a sweep in here."

"Everyone is busy being depraved animals - I can do it, they don't need to wait any longer for the respect," Bran looks up from the bodies and looks to the other before turning his attention down at the eight or so dead gentlemen and ladies. He inhales slowly before kneeling down to think over an appropriate prayer, or anything, or something. The man turns about in order to find a good shovel. He employs Ensign Mathers to assist with it.

Not finding what else she was looking for, Leyla moves away from the display cases, heading back into the store proper. She's off towards the clothes section herself, peeking through the racks for what might or might not be useful, for herself and quite a few smaller than she is. She doesn't bother taking the hangers.

Sofia giggles too, "That's bad but awesome," She admits and tosses some of the spoils in too. Perhaps the traumatized Engineer did not want to get underfoot of handling bodies. She'll help with the boxers, understanding her male compatriots' needs for skivvies. She looks to Cil, "I think I got all the bras, panties and manties I can handle for now. You?"

"Everyone is busy doing their job, Sir, if you don't mind me saying," comes Ensign Mather's answer. "Keeping the living alive. That's the job we were all sent down here to do. These aren't the first bodies any of us have seen, and they sure won't be the last. We'll be dead ourselves, before we could get all of the dead buried." But, like a good soldier, he does move to assist the more senior junior officer in burial detail.

"Ok…I think there more underwear in this bag than I've owned in…well, ever. What do you think about moving on to the real prize - the shoes? I'd love like hell to pick up a nice set of sneakers. That'll make going to the gym a hell of a lot better than using the skanky Fleet-issue ones I have now." Hefting the laundry bag over her back now - ironically, it's still filled mostly with laundry, even if this is clean - Cilusia Claus stomps off towards the shoe department with Sofia.

Straight tobacco and rolling papers acquired — and there is a LOT acquired — Trask moves on to boxes of cigars. Eying his ensign wandering towards the whiskey, he snarks, "Put that down. There's already enough stupid on the ship. You want a bottle for your private stash, start moving /this/ inventory." AKA, the smokes.

"I don't mind it," comments Bran under his breath. He looks down at the shovel he has found and then rolls it between his hands, almost as if it were a very large pen, thanks to his namesake, and then he looks back to the Ensign. He shakes his head. "Not the first, nor the last, and I intend on properly respecting all of them to the best of my abilities. Everyone doesn't have to. Don't even expect that. I will though." He then sinks the blade of the shovel in the ground in front of him and reaches up to unfasten the top of his black combat vest. After a look skyward, "Go help the others. I'll be fine."

Decides that he's earned a bottle or two for finding the place and moves to acquire them. "Anything else you want me to keep a lookout for, Boots?" he asks, stuffing them into his duffel bag.

"Yeah, me too," Sofia agrees. "And that sounds wonderful. I think my shoes cry when they see the gym," She admits. She's following Cilusia along towards the shoes. The Enlisted Snipes of Doom seem to be doing their own thing. "Though, not much comes in my size. I guess that's a hazard of being odd?"

With Bran giving him the okay, Ensign Mathers returns to his Cora-appointed duties of cataloguing and inventorying, though he moves back into the store proper, to begin to mark down the locations and approximate numbers of the items the two women(Cora and Sawyer) have been going through the store marking for later retrieval. Outside, the sound of a raptor taking off, as another one lands is testament to the efficiency of Kal's Krew.

Ulixes wandered away from the group upon arriving, but now a cry of victory goes up from a small shop. It seems that Shortcut has found a camping supplies store which he is now ransacking with all the fervour of the most paranoid survivalist. He reaches up to yank a rolled-up sleeping bag from the highest shelf, causing a number of other things to clatter noisily to the ground as he inspects the label, "I've got camping gear," he calls out to his compatriots. He even puts aside a sleeping bag for himself, forgetting the fact that he has a bunk back on the ship.

Leyla's duffel bag is just about as full as full can get, and drag, drag, drag, she goes, pulling it back towards the entrance. Hopefully, the fact that her name is stitched and stenciled onto the canvas will ensure that nobody takes it anywhere except back to her raptor, before she moves back inside, with only her laundry bag now. She probably could get a cart, but then what would she put all the stuff in? Right. A bag. So…cut out the middle man.

Once Bootstrap has returned to the task of clearing out all that Allegheny has to offer, Rimshot shoots Flasher a look of 'help a fella out and pack that bottle for me plz'. Poor pilot needs to get his drink on, don'cha know. "Aye, sir," is then stated to the SL as the Ensign starts filling his cart with various tobacco items.

"Bath supplies and miscellaneous toiletries. Scented candles and other nice smelling things… Seeds. Woad… Musical stuff… The moving teams are already collecting clothing, blankets, medical supplies and the like… Oh! See if there's a camping section. Might be some air mattresses an' sleepin' bags." That would be what the Squadron Leader wants to see.

"You got it, Boots." Marko replies, nodding and sticking an extra bottle into his bag before falling out in search of the requested items. "Seeds…now why the frak didn't _I_ think of that?" he says, shaking his head a little. "Let's see…still got plenty of room for my own goodies." he muses, shaking his bag to test it's heft. "Okay, on with the show."

In the shoe section, oh sweet shoe section! Cilusia drops the bag full of (so far) underwear and various snacks and drink mixes. "Hmmm, let's see…let's see here…sneakers. Heels. Sandals. Boots. Man this place has it all!" In fact, it seems the boot section is just a little bigger than the dressy section. These aren't fake casual boots either. Nosiree, these are honest-to-gods work boots. "Man, I don't think we'll have enough room to take back a lot of these, but I bet there's a hella lot of people who'd love to have no shoes. Can't guarantee that they were rescued with good sturdy shoes, afterall."

The clear out continues, as bags are filled, boxes are loaded and supplies are collected. It seems as though the haul will be quite massive. And perhaps, if the numbers of needy bodies were smaller, it would be so. But there are close to 900 plus bodies in need, and that's just on the Cerberus, and so, what is found will be a welcome thing, but nothing to excess. Enough, perhaps, for a little while, to make life, if not livable, at least bearable.

Oh heck yes. Sofia smiles. "Wow. Real work boots," She beams. "I think you're right though," She nods. "I'll load a few into the civvie bag and maybe a pair for myself and Shiner into mine," She is wise to bring a spare bag or just able to get to inventory fast. Hard saying. "I don't really need dress shoes anymore huh?" Though, shower sandals are invaluable it seems. "Wonder what size Constin wears…" Ponder.

While stacking up things that appear useful, something catches the corner of Ulixes' eye and he immediately turns to investigate. Going over to some shelves, he finds a number of small tins and reads over the labels with a grin. Shortly after, he emerges from the store - arms loaded with supplies, face painted in a camouflage pattern and some form of ghillie suit netting thrown over his head and shoulders, "Look what I found."

When Marko is oh so kind enough to snag that bottle for Rimshot, the junior officer flashes Flasher a look of 'you are so awesome!'

"Hmmm…" Cilusia mumbles, before poking her nose around. There are some double doors there that the store clerks would have once used to go on into the back of the shoe section and pick out a box of the appropriate size. "Ohhhh, this could work. Guess we should get them to mark this down, huh?" With various grunting and all, Cilusia is muscling a box full of boxes of shoes out of the back. "Get a few Raptors-worth of these big boxes, and that would actually be good."

Clearing out the Allegheny display has left Bootstrap's military backpack stuffed to the gills and his military duffel to pick up the slack. Personal needs in the tobacco department now met, he and the shopping cart plot a reverse course back to the kids' section.

Leyla has gotten her load of clothing, for the nonce, and she's on her way to the outlying shop fronts, peeking around this aisle and that, to see if she can spot where people are moving and working, even looking into each of the shopfronts to see if anything might be useful that hasn't already been gutted. haha! Smokes. Sure Trask already took all the 'good' stuff, but who cares? That just leaves tons of cartons for her. Well, not tons, but she does take quite a few, before she continues on, passing the alcohol. Nothing there for her, and moving on. Oh! Oh! Lookit! Accessories! Combs, brushes, hair ties, pins, barrettes. And drugs. Lots and lots of drugs. And…womanly things. Those Leyla doesn't collect, but she does make sure to make mention that they need to be brought back to the ship.

"Yeah!" Beam. Sofia nods. "Thank you." She seems grateful for Cil and her company. She's loaded a few boxes in, though the Engineer lacks Cil's strength by comparison. "We got shirts and underthings covered? We got some drinks and snacks, umm." She looks around and stands on her tip toe. "I heard a tobacco store, though that's not my thing," She admits quietly.. "There's a hunting store and bullets and - wow. This is pretty neat." Beam. "Even with Damon staring at your butt sometimes."

Marko concludes his own portion of his shopping spree, stocking up on snack items, tea, drink powders of every description, whatever beef jerky Leyla didn't snag. Then he goes looking for more serious items. It takes some looking, but soon enough, he comes across a sporting goods store loaded to the brim with many of the items Trask mentioned. "A target rich environment." he comments, setting to on the place with a vengeance before calling the Marines to finish the job

The raptor teams moving in and out haven't just been collecting boxes and supplies, oh no, they've been doing troop transport as well. People trickling in, people trickling out. And it's all going fairly smoothly. So it's no surprise, when Classy pops his head in, using the big boy voice, "Raptor is on its way out. Anybody who needs to get back to the ship, we're skids up in ten minutes." And then he's off back towards the raptor, to help with the onload.

Maggie may not be here in the flesh, but she's in Kal's thoughts. Whatever passingly attractive and comfortable maternity clothes that can be found are tossed into the duffel, as well as clothes for the bun still cooking in Quinn's oven. Infancy. Toddlerdom. Kiddiehood. Adolescence. Tweenage. Might as well gather some of it all. The rest of the stuff for the wee ones will soon enough be gathered, although the man will snag a few things for each of the children already aboard to keep them tied-over until the rest of the bounty is distributed. "Hey, Buns… We should get some toys an' books an' stuff. Art supplies, if they have. Yarn."

With her goodie bag almost full, Leyla finally steps away from the accessories. And, catching a glimpse of Boots, heads in his direction, "Bootstrap," offered to the man as she approaches, but doesn't stop him from his gathering. Or attempt to divert him from his conversation with Evandreus. But it's only polite to acknowledge the big boss, as it were. If only she could figure out where her wingman wandered off to.

Marko has to resort to shooting open the door to the sporting goods store's stock room, but talk about a bullet well spent. Inside he finds MREs by the metric frakton. After months of canned Fleet chow, it's all he can do to keep from cracking one open and having himself a rare edible lunch. He settles for unzipping his flight suit and stashing a box inside. Several more go into his duffle before he calls the Marines to collect the rest.

After dragging that big box full of shoes, Cilusia lets it sit out in the middle of the floor. Someone bigger and stronger will have to come along and get this thing back to the Raptors. Ten minutes, that's enough time, plenty of time, to get on down to the cosmetics and pharma section. A few bars of soap - the kind that isn't like plain - and as much frizz-stop as she can muster. Like a lot of the other folks here, she's sought out hygiene products that are a little more normal. "Sofia…I'm back up. Got as much in the way of shoes, undies, and shampoo as I care to carry back. I'll have to make another trip!"

Phew. It's heavy. Sofia nods. She'll gather up some lotion (Aloe especially), fine shampoo and soap and drops them in. "Me too, I think. I got myself and a few of my friends things, and we loaded up the Civvie Donation bag." This seems to please her. "Thanks for letting me tag along, yeah?" She was glad for the company, dead bodies or not. Once she is loaded up, she'll happily rejoin the others on the Raptors.

Ulixes crouches over his discovered treasures to go through them and see if there is anything of particular use, still kitted out in camouflage apparel. It is while crouched that he spots a rat make its way from one hiding place to another, eyes tracking it as it goes. He almost looks hungry for a second before he looks up to the rest of the gathered scavengers and asks, "Anyone got something to eat?"

"Sweet Pea," is replied when Leyla passes by Trask, although he doesn't peer from what he's perusing. By the time the others, are boarding the latest batch of departing Raptors, he's moving on to the section full of lotions, soaps, creams, shampoos, conditioners, and the like. Incidentally, this means crossing Shortcut's path. "There's probably jerky an' sweets somewhere. Biscuits, too. Preserves."

Marko happens to be within earshot when Shortcut complains of being hungry. Chuckling a little, he unzips his duffle bag, pulls out an MRE and lobs it in the man's direction before moving on to finish his loot…er…shopping.

"Jerky's all I can offer," comes Leyla's answer, to Ulixes' question. She's almost finished with her bag, but she's still on the hunt, heading towards the warehouse, on the prowl for the final item in her wishlist of items. Oh wait, she does stop to gather some personal clothing items for herself, but only a few items are added to the laundry bag. Ship's stores are pretty good, still, and, really when's she going to wear anything non-issue? Not often. Into the warehouse she goes, "Anybody find any instruments in here?"

"Jerky, jerky, jerky," Ulixes replies, humming to himself as he does so and standing up to face Leyla, "Jerky is fine." He smacks his lips a couple times and shoos a curious somebody away from the 'face paints' he found, "Jerky, please."

Leyla turns back, in Ulixes' direction, as the call for jerky goes up. Who doesn't like dry meat. Just in time to see a package flying through the air. Where it came from, that she can't say, but she can reach out with her free left hand and catch it on the fly. Only once she actually has it in hand, does she go to the trouble of trying to find out what it is. And now, with MRE in hand, she heads over to her fellow pilot, offering both the flying MRE (beef stew, with vegetables!) and a few strips of the packaged jerky she tucked into a pocket.

For his part, Marko concludes his expedition by securing more skivvies, socks, soap, and other essentials, magazines, books, and snack foods. Alas, his slow search for a back up weapon compatible with Fleet calibers is in vain. Laying his Fleet issue duffle down, he lays atop it, cinches the shoulder straps and, grunting and cursing with the effort, stands up and starts walking, slowly, heavily towards the Raptor.

The MRE zooms towards Ulixes only to be intercepted by Leyla. "Sweet moves, Sweet Pea. That also is my cue." And so it is that Trask (and his shopping cart) resume his trek to the toiletries.

Even though he's handed the MRE, Ulixes' attentions instantly drift towards the jerky which he tears into with all the gusto of the most voracious carnivore. Chewing on it, he smiles a big, toothy thank you towards the pair who dared to feed the Ulixes and begins gathering up what he can to be taken to the Raptor.

"I knew we were going to get along famously, Shortcut." The MRE she tucks into the same pocket she pulled the jerky out of, giving over the rest of her stash she has on her, to the man, "I'm pretty sure there'll be a bit more around the place." Once he seems well on his way, she steps back, before moving on to the warehouse. There are instruments to find and a young man to offer something with which to remember his Colony, as it was before the Cylons came.

And so it goes, through the rest of the day, and through the next few days, until every useful thing at the Emporium has been removed. And the store, finally, truly is closed for business.

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