PHD #033: Laundry List
Laundry List
Summary: One has a laundry list of clothes, the other has a laundry list of charges.
Date: 31 Mar 2041 AE
Related Logs: None
Players:
Kai Cilusia 
Laundry Room - Deck 3 - Battlestar Cerberus
Post Holocaust Day: #33
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

Unemployed, unable to access the BioChem lab, and so on and so forth, leads one woman on an adventure! An adventure to the awesomeness of the laundry room, where miracles are expected to happen to the lovely dress that drapes across Kai's arm, smudged in places, blood in others. A miracle - or some really fantastic cleaning - it will take indeed. Sluiced over a drying rack, chemicals are examined in close detail, one after another after another. And in all? Three are selected, brought to the folding counter where soon her dress will lay. Focused. Patient. Meticulous. That's Kai.

Is she so focused that she doesn't notice the other woman in the laundry room? Maybe. Of course, it doesn't help at all that said woman is sitting on top of a washer down at the far end of the line, back against the wall. She's got a journal-y looking book open in her lap, sprawling some stuff inside for a few minutes after Kai enters, and only when she finishes does she look up at the woman. While she piddles around here and there with chemicals, Cilusia watches with interest, an eyebrow raised at the dress. "Damn, that doesn't look military-issue," she finally just blurts out, never one to be subtle.

Silks and see-through fabric, delicate and refined, hemmed to perfection, with a beautiful draping velvet sash that currently is untied? Definitely not the type of uniform Kai's managed to see 'round here. Glancing 'round, the items are ignored for now, a smile flashing to her features in warm welcome. "It is not, this is true. It is what I was wearing at the ball when the attack came. I'm Kai. Civvie, for now," and just the -tiniest- emphasis on 'civvie'. "You?"

"PO3 Cilusia Fasi, deck. And this is…well, this is what they give me to wear. Not much choice when you're just getting out of the brig." In order to introduce herself, Cilusia hops herself down from the washer, sitting the book down with the pen tucked inside the hold the page. Then it's right up to Kai, stretching out a hand for a shake. "You were at a ball when the shit hit the fan huh? Where do they have prissy balls that lead to you being brought aboard a military ship like this beast? I'm actually like, legit curious."

"Well, in truth it was not a ball, but a ceremony," corrects Kai, her own hand clasping Cilusia's firmly with a shake. She doesn't shake like lil' Miss Priss, at least. "The recent anchorage event. Ball is merely stuck in my mind because of the man I was with. He was trying to impress upon me before we left how I should select my gown, and his choice of words were 'A stodgy, uptight ball with a bunch of officials. Nothing racy, but please by the Gods avoid the frills'. So…" her head nudges in the direction of the dress. "Just lucky enough that someone on board donated their clothes. Else I'd be in a frakkin' dress still. But I thought maybe… salvaging it a bit. You know?" A pause accompanied by a wince, and the lass asks, "Is that too…." and a wave of her hand, "Wasted? I guess?"

"Hm? Is what wasted? Trying to keep your dress nice? Na, I don't think so, but really, it's a personal choice. I'm not really the sort of gal you're gonna find in a dress too often. More of a rough and tumble sort, you know?" Cilusia smirks pretty good then, looking up at Kai; she's got 6 inches on Cil after all. "As for balls, afraid I've never been to anything of the sort. The sort of dancing that I like to do isn't really suited for that sort of stodgy Colonial ceremony bullshit. Probably why I'm still a frakkin' PO3. Can't stand all that pomp and circumstance and shit."
You give Kai a cookie.

"Why were you in the brig?" Curiosity asks more than anything else, Kai moving her materials over so that she can have the conversation and still be effective in movement. "I cannot say that I am suited or not for it. I wasn't there for the celebration, though, so." A light shrug. "It was a type of uniform, only the only person who realized it was my employer." Careful measurements in her hand are made from each of the items, stirred, mixed, and moved to different parts of the dress, rubbed and patted as appropriate.

"You want the short version? Jumped a PO1 when he started getting in my shit down on deck. He just knew he could do my job better than I could. You know, since I didn't go to frakkin' A-School to learn how to do my job or anything. He just pushed and pushed, and so I punched back." Nice little change of two letters, huh? "Moral of the story? I'm a frakkin' hothead. Say I'm loco!" Cilusia grins again and makes small circles around her right ear with the index finger of her right hand; the motion makes the beaded leather bracelets she has on slap around a bit. They're handmade things, the sort of idle busywork her mother did on Scorpia. "Still, that's a damn nice dress, even if it's not something I'd wear," she says, hopping up on the table next to where Kai works the fabrics.

She listens to the stories with a faint smile, but instead of immediately commenting on the hotheadedness of her newest 'cohort'. "Thank you. I had to have someone else pick it out, but I suppose I went along with it, yes?" There. Perfect. It just took a hell of a lot longer than most people would take, but then? Kai's clearly a perfectionist in her work. Err, well, at least in laundry. "So, just wonderin', why let someone get under your skin, if you know your shit? He was pushing your buttons, you say. Did you know it at the time, or did he intentionally do it, or?"

Cilusia just gives a casual shrug. "I don't really know. He pushed some kind of button, and before I knew it, I was just throwing myself at him. And not in the good kinda way." About that time, one of the dryers dings, and Cilusia snaps her head, curls going all over, toward it. "Ooops, that'd be mine. Just washing up some of the new stuff the quartermaster forked over once I got let out." Thump thump goes her boots on the ground, as she slides off the folding table, snatching up the book she left, and pulling out a few pairs of pants from the dryer.

"Well, if you'd ever like to talk to someone who isn't going to analyze you, lemme know." A wink, and Kai mentions, "My family is…" A pause. She thinks they still exist, at least, somewhere.. "Well, a bunch of different scientists and doctors and stuff. Difficult not to pick some of it up, but if you want to learn how to avoid being in the brig again, I've got a shoulder to lean on, ear to listen. You know. That stuff." Is that embarrassment? Hells to the yes it is, but hopefully her giant smile will distract Cilusia, as well as a very happy, "Well I have to go now and I will get my dress later thanks have a good night sorry to be an ass." Except it all runs together…. -while- Kai is slipping off and Cilusia's busying herself with mentionables.

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