BCH #001: No Amount of Brushing's Gonna Clean That Filthy Mouth
No Amount of Brushing's Gonna Clean That Filthy Mouth
Summary: After the war games, members of Air Wing seek to wash-up; the conversation turns decidedly filthy.
WARNING: This log contains Adult Language.
Date: 25 Feb 2041 AE
Related Logs: EVENT: Who Hunts The Hunter - Air Wing
Alessandra Daphne Damon Evandreus Manny Marko Quinn Sitka Stavrian Tisiphone Trask 

-=[ Naval Head - Deck 4 - Battlestar Cerberus ]=-

Like any normal head on the ship, this one is painted in light grey with some blue around the top of the room. Down the center there are 16 sinks, 8 on each side backed up to each other. Along the hull areas of the room, showers and lockers are toward the back and off to the left of the sinks are closed toilets and open urinals.

-=[ Condition Level: 3 - All Clear ]=-

Tisiphone trudges into the head from the berths, towel around her shoulders, naked as the day she was born. Someone didn't give her the memo on prudishness. She's dragging her bathrobe behind her, as opposed to wearing it. A few potentially interesting points, beyond the whole 'nekkid' thing — first, the heavily scarred back; second, the unshaven legs covered with pale, nearly translucent hair; third, the carpet would match the drapes, if she wasn't bald.

"So, it occurred to me during that whole… insane thing we just did," explains Daphne, who's wearing a terrycloth robe. It's not regulation… it's -way- too nice for that. Thick white material, lots of deep pockets, and so on. The towel she's got around her neck may as well be an afterthought for all she'd seem to need it. "We actually belong here. It's sort of frakked up, but this is real." She laughs to herself as she steps into a stall and starts the water, taking a step back and waiting for the water to approach something a human being would actually want to stand under.

Alessandra's not as inclined to immodesty as some but she's not the most dressed bird on the ship, either, her choice of pre-shower attire being a pair of underwear and a tanktop. Held in hand is a clean set of underwear and her Picon Panthers jersey, most likely what she sleeps in, and in the other is her shower kit and her towel. Sleepy hellos are given as greetings while she stalks her way towards the lockers, that being about all she can muster for conversation at first.

Evandreus pats on into the head, bare-footed and bare-everything-elsed to match, not even bothering with a towel, just glad for the moment to be out of the flightsuit and feel air on his person again. And, soon, water. "Holy crap, dudes," he notes to the Ensigns, "Crazy times, huh? Oh, Cubits!" he notes, looking to Daphne in turn, then back to the Moneychild. "Did you get the drawring?" With two 'r's. Like they say it in Leontinia.

Showertime? Showertime. Maggie begins leading the direction towards the head, stepping inside… only to notice the crowd there already. "Frrraaak. There's going to be a bit of a line." It's always a bit odd to hear her proper, clipped accent swearing like that, but she curses up a storm with the best of them. Evan might be completely nude, and she's carefully averting her eyes, but she is not. She's got a towel tightly wrapped around her body, tucked beneath her armpit, hiding all her freckled goodness from the top of her chest to the middle of her thighs.

Marko, clad in a somewhat threadbare bathrobe with the name of a hospital in Delphi embroidered on the left breast and a Navy-issue towel over his shoulder, makes his way into the head and straight for the lockers. "Hey everybody," he says absently, stifling a yawn behind his fist.

Stavrian has his camo jacket over his shoulder and a toothbrush + towel in hand as he steps into the deck 4 communal head. The smell and sound of people hits before the sight of a gaggle of pilots in varying states of undress, and he stands there with blue eyes blinking. Just for a moment. His brows both edge upwards and he starts for a sink, first one open. "Like town hall in the john in here."

Manny enters, brandishing in his hand a shaving kit and in the other hand a blue bottle of 'Picon Breeze' aftershave. He is humming to himself as he makes his way to the sinks, turning the water on hot. Setting his toiletries down, he takes out the implements in the bag - a badger brush, shaving soap, and a straight razor. He overhears Maggie and shakes his head with a smile, "Just coming in here for a shave."

Trask isn't so much of a jerk that he'd actually light-up around the asthma-inflicted Evan. So, it is some time later that he actually arrives in the head, now smelling of smoke, as well as sweat. Tisiphone doesn't hold a monopoly on scars, although his are far more faded than hers and even somewhat concealed by the elaborate koru kirituhi tattoos that cover his shoulders and upper-back. Somehow, that dark hair of his even even messier than when he left the deck. Undressing is probably the culprit. Unlike his Captain, he has no issue walking around, dressed in only what the gods gave him. Oh, and a towel slung around his neck.

"How many missile hits did you get?" Tisiphone asks, looking toward the shower door Daphne disappears behind. "Frak, if I got more than three I won't believe it." Grimacing, she turns to hang her bathrobe on the door hook, pausing at the sound of Evandreus's voice. Pale eyes move from him to his companions, the fondness cooling a little toward caution. "Yeah," she says, simply. She's about to say more, then decides against it, turning instead to close the shower stall door and get her clean on.

Making no apologies for grabbing what shower's free once her stuff's set in a locker and she's disrobed, Alessandra scoots her naked self into a shower - not because she's a prude but because she doesn't want to wait - and the shower's turned on within seconds of the door closing and latching closed. "Oh gods," comes a sigh that is sheer relief, "That feels so frakking goooood." A minute or two later and a sweet, fruit-based scent eventually mingles with the billowing steam, that being the berry scent from the shampoo that is her favorite.

Evandreus lifts an arm, waving, chipper, at Jess. "You caught us all just in from outdoors. It gets hot out in the cold," he giggles with the paradox. He himself is without scars, and with only one tattoo, a subtle design in a medium brown hue toward the top of the back of one leg. The Moneychild's reaction makes his face fall a little, as, evidently, she didn't care much for the drawing. Lips draw together and to one side as he watches her go, but his smile won't be banished for long. He can always draw another one, after all. He grins at his Cap'n. "You wanna go ahead? I can chill here 'til you're done," he offers.

Quinn turns around, looking in the direction of the scent of smoke… Almost wanting one, and then she sees the nude Trask. "Dear Gods, Kal, put it away. You WANT us to go blind?" She mock shields her eyes with one hand, her other palm firmly keeping her towel around her body to hide from everyone what the gods gave her. She's rather more conservative than her squadron mates, it seems. "But seriously… good flying out there. Ignore the boys who feel like have something to prove…" She nods behind her to Evan and Trask.

Daphne waits a few seconds more until the water seems to actually be akin to something that won't create a medical condition. She pulls her robe off and hangs it on the stall door before she vanishes inside and shuts it behind her. "I lost count after, uh… the first?" offers she to Tisiphone. "There were a lot of missiles out there. You had to have hit more than three. You could practically fire blind and hit something. At least that's how it felt."

Stavrian lifts his chin towards Evan, as he turns on the faucet. A blast of water comes shooting out much like soda left Evan's nose the other day, spattering his T-shirt with droplets, and he's left standing there with a wrinkled nose. "Great welcome wagon." He glances back at the Raptor pilot - face, not, you know, all that nude stuff. "I saw some of it from the deck before duty. Looked amazing." He slings his towel off his shoulder and folds it on the edge of the sink, now gingerly passing his toothbrush under the calmed faucet spray.

Marko doffs his bathrobe and pulls the towel around his middle. "Bunny, Bootstrap, Cap'n," he says, nodding politely in turn to each. "Eh… other people I don't think I know," he adds with a faint hint of a smirk. "Did you get the memo?" he asks, shifting a little on his feet and trying to keep his gaze as close to the upper part of the walls as he can. Someone, it appears, is a little on the shy side.

Removing his wedding band and placing it next to the mirror, Altar Boy soaks his brush and soap in the hot water. After a bit of steam on the face and the like, Manny starts building a frothy lather on his face, the scent reminiscent of Caprican vetiver. He takes out the razor and looks at the blade, admiring the engraving on the handle. Smiling to his shaving creamed face in the mirror, he begins to run the blade down the edge of his cheek. With each scrape, he slides the cream and stubble onto his towel.

"Seriously, Cinnabun, I know it's big — well, really frakkin' big — but, even so, no one is in danger of gettin' an eye poked out. Not unless I get excited." Trask is so nonchalant in his reply to Quinn. Luckily, for her, his brand of jerkassness doesn't involve yanking away her towel. The stink of residual smoke does linger as he passes, though, on his way to a stall with his dangling toiletry bag idly swinging from his left hand.

Tisiphone's shower finally starts billowing forth steam. A few seconds later she steps in, immediately rubbing at her face. "Yeah," she calls back to Daphne, voice raised but muffled by her hands. "I… guess. Complete frakking wash. Might as well have been counting rice at a wedding." No lovely-smelling shampoos for her — she just rubs a bar of speckled soap over her head.

Alessandra takes a bit longer before emerging, her towel wrapped about her, it covering her from chest to knees, more than long enough to protect her modesty under most circumstances. Her bare, wet feet leave little puddles in her wake all the way up to where she has her belongings stowed, making it suck for anyone who might be stupid enough to try and walk around with socks on as they'll get them soaked if they attempt to follow her trail. Several of the guys are checked out curiously and then a few of the women are, too, a casual glance here and there. "That was a lot of fun, wasn't it," she asks no one in particular, the question posed right before her towel's yanked away from her body, it used to dry her off.

Evandreus grins back at his Cap'n, then heads over to the sinks. Since the showers are filling up fast, he just turns on a sink to cup his hands below the water, splashing his face and then bowing his head to splash some through his hair, as well. "It was kind of overwhelming. Bigger than anything I've been a part of outside of sims, definitely."

Stavrian raps his toothbrush against the side of the sink, shaking droplets of cold back into the white bowl. He looks down and around the sides of the sink, then on top of his towel, then he leans back and eyes the floor under his sink. Straightening then, he slowly taps his plastic toothbrush side on the porcelain in 3/4 time, TAP tap tap TAP tap tap. A glance over his shoulder and he calls out drily, "Anyone have spare toothpaste?"

Not waiting for Jugs to comment further about his junk, Bootstrap enters the vacated shower stall, slings the towel over the door, and turns on the water, nice and hot.

"Our graduation exercise was nowhere near as hairy as that," Marko nods, shifting a little on his shower-shoe clad feet. "Or as much fun." he grins. "That was a hell of a decoy pattern, Bootstrap." he adds admiringly. "You faked 'em right out of their shorts. Bet there's much wailing and gnashing of teeth in their CICs about now."

Manny takes his tube of toothpaste out of his toiletry bag. "I have some." He sets down his razor, and walks over to Stavrian to hand it to him. Half of his face is covered in shaving cream while the other is well done with its first pass.

Quinn just looks straight -away- from Bootstrap's junk, shaking her head. He still fails the luck challenge… "Seriously, Boots? I could barely see it. Must be the steam…" She bandies back to him before slipping up to a sink next to Evan. If all the showers are taken, it might as well be bird-bath time. She sidles in between Evan and Manny, nodding towards the shaving man as she turns on the warm water and begins to run some across her arms, face, finally through her frizzing red hair. Speaking of hair… out of her braid, and in the steam, her hair has taken on a life of its own. It's a mane of massive curls taking up more room than her body it almost seems. "And those exercises were big, yes… but needed. I doubt many of us are used to working on a ship this size. It gave a good sense of scale."

"They weren't that bad," Lucky kind of snorts out. "It was good practice, at least." Her hand darts into her locker to get her shower kit so she can share her toothpaste with Jesse but, seeing that it's been taken care of by Manny, she shrugs and finishes with the drying thing before getting her underwear and jersey on. "Real combat scenarios of that size are a lot worse," she adds.

Godsend, quite literally. Stavrian shoots Manny a grateful nod, reaching over for the tube. "Thanks. Mine's up and run off." He squeezes a bit onto the bristles, being conservative with the paste that isn't his. "Probably find it one day in a rat trap in a vent. Here…" The tube's tossed back towards Manny. "I don't know you, do I?" Quick check, the man only vaguely familiar.

After lingering on the face- and scalp-scrubbing, the rest of Tisiphone's cleaning regimen is brisk and quickly-finished. She permits herself a final loitering, face turned up directly into the water, then reluctantly steps back and shuts off the water. "Gods Above and Below, I needed that," she utters, letting out a boneless sigh. A few seconds later she exits her shower stall, towel wrapped around her waist, bathrobe over her shoulder. "You been in real combat, then?" she asks Alessandra, curious, as she makes her way to the benches by the lockers.

Manny shakes his foamy face at Stavrian. "Might have seen me in the background in the temple. The name's Manuel Valens. I'm the captain's new chaplain aide… well, for the next twenty hours hours." A reservist. Manny raises his eyebrows with a smile. "Then it is back to civvie life for me for the next month, thanks to the Picon Space Guard."

Alessandra blinks and then shakes her head. "Oh no. But I've heard stories from my father's friends. Some of them fought in the first Cylon War and… gods, if there is one thing a war vet is good at it's telling very vivid stories about their experiences." Toothbrush and paste are what she grabs for next, those yanked from the kit bag after it's unzipped. "I've gotten lucky. Managed to pull standard patrol duty and such. Shipping lanes, mostly. Don't get to see much out there."

Stavrian sticks the toothbrush in his mouth, starting to scrub away at cared-for teeth. His blue eyes flicker up and into the mirror, watching Alessandra and Tisiphone for a time in reverse as they trade talk about real combat. Then back down at the swirling water, nodding a little as Manny talks. He leans down to spit out the mouthful of foam. "Jesse Stavrian. You picked a hell of a pleasure cruise, Valens."

By the time Trask emerges from the steamy stall, he actually smells really nice. Too bad it won't last between sweating and smoking. Apparently, he caught what his SL had said, for he carries-on, quite causally, "That's 'cuz you mistook it for my leg, the way it hangs a bit to the left. The overlapping." Shamelessly, he starts to towel-off, after dropping his bag on the counter of an unoccupied sink.

Manny nods, "Pleasure to meet you." He shrugs at the comment, "Pays the seminary bills. And the benefits will help once She Who Must Be Obeyed gives birth." He goes back to his business at the sink, shaving the other side of his face. Overhearing Trask, he smiles with a shake of his head, pursing his lips as he starts to shave his upper lip.

"So, what's your assessment, Cap?" Marko asks, turning his eyes towards Quinn's, literally. Hey, give the kid a break, he's only been on active duty for something like a week now. It takes a while for some to get used to unisex showers. "Think we're ready?"

Quinn practically chokes on the water she's been splashing off with, shaking her head… "Oh gods, Kal… seriously. I did NOT need that mental image. Frak. You're so in trouble…" She shakes her head, sending more of her WHOA!Hair everywhere, and he might notice that he's actually making her -blush-. Maybe it's the heat of the room, but her cheeks are well and deeply flushed now. However, since he's out of the shower stall, she stops bird-bathing and heads in that direction herself. "Evan, get him to put it away, if you can. I've had enough of the boy." And then the bright eyed, bushy tailed kid is asking her a question. Just as she was about to de-towel. She tightly restrains that towel around her half-wet form again. "Well, kid… I think we're the most damn ready squadron I've ever flown with, that those exercises prove it. The cylons could come back for round two and we'd send them all the way to Hades."

Stavrian looks at Manny blankly for a moment, toothbrush pausing in his mouth. Then his eyes flicker down to the wedding ring sitting on the man's sink and there's a low: "Heh. First one?" The toothbrush resumes movement and he glances over his shoulder at the pilots as it gets louder again.

Tisiphone parks her behind on the bench and digs through the pockets in her bathrobe until she locates a small tube. Lotion of some variety — she starts applying it to still-wet skin, scalp first, head turned to regard Alessandra. "All I know about the Cylon War I learned in a book," she admits to the other woman. "Heard all their nightmare stories, and you still joined up?" Her eyes flick away distractedly to the others in the room.

Evandreus goes quiet for a moment, looking at himself, a little drowsy-eyed, in the mirror. He looks up again at his Cap'n's request, "Eh?" he wonders. Asking the Bunny to make someone else get dressed is like asking a fish to talk someone else out of the water. But, yes, there are free shower stalls, now, so, "Don't traumatize the Cap'n, Bootiekins," he suggests with a warm smile on his way past. Showertime.

"Hey, Jugs, ask Boots if he has to strap it to his thigh so he can fit his flightsuit and junk." With the close quarters it is hard not to overhear at least parts of the other conversations and Lucky can't help but to toss out the comment. "Oh. If you ever get the chance, get with someone who's been there, Tisi. It's awesome to hear it from a first-person POV." Now dressed and dried, she takes her dental hygiene items to a sink, one semi-close to Jesse and the process of scrubbing teeth starts.

For his part, Kal looks like the cat who just ate the canary, sly smirk and all. Not that it can be seen, really. That's because his backside is facing pretty much everyone in the room. This is not necessarily a bad thing, for the jerkass really has a mighty fine ass. Mighty fine. Much to Quinn's lament. "Often so, Lucky," he calls out. "Sadly, more than my hands are callused."

"The wife or the kid?" Manny smiles, "Both. And as for the wife, hopefully the only one. As for the child, as many as the gods will. My order, which is dedicated to Mars, has certain taboos regarding marriage. As Mars only had one woman to his affection, we do the same. Even into death."

Stavrian spits out a second mouthful of foam. The rabid JG turns his faucet back on, washing off toothbrush bristles and then leaning down to fill his hands with water. Mouth rinse. Ahhh. He snorts quietly at Manny's question, finally giving the man a smirked half-grin. It fades soon as it had appeared, and he drifts his hand through the faucet spray. Without actually turn around to look at Alessandra, he flicks a couple drops of cold-ass water at the back of her neck. His eyes are, innocently, on Manny. "Gods grant you the endurance, Mr. Valens. Child due soon?"

Sitka slouches his way into the head, a fair bit after the bulk of the throng from the hangar bay— though apparently not long enough to avoid the crowds. He tugs down the zipper of his flight suit as he goes, and weaves between pilots and crew trying to find a free shower stall.

Tisiphone's eyes narrow just slightly as she looks from one member of the Harriers to the next with a sudden spate of deep curiosity. As suddenly as the scrutiny appears, it vanishes, gaze slanting down to her knees and rather fuzzy calves as they get their turn with the lotion. She starts to hum to herself — the parting hymn from this evening's Chapel services.

Evandreus stands in the shower, the meanwhile, inching the handle hotter and hotter by increments until the steam's coming in thick billows, and he just stands there with his face to the hot for a while, forgetting where he is.

Between Trask and Lucky, Maggie is now blushed all the way to her ears. Dammit, why can't they just keep it in their pants! Or… at least not draw more attention to her ECO's gods given… Gifts. She clears her throat, shaking her head with a brief glare at both of them before muttering a smooth, "Thank you, Evan…" And then she's looking back to the spit shine Ensign… "Any other concerns? If not… I do think I might shower, finally…" If her hair will fit in the stall.

"Due in six months. The wife sent me a box of Caprican Imperiales to celebrate," Manny says with glee, reapplying his lather for a second pass.

Her wet hair hasn't been combed yet and has clumped into thick tendril-like masses, that leaving a lot of bare neck for those droplets to find, which they do. Shivering, Allie grits her teeth, fighting the want to squeal in protest at the mistreatment, it taking her a while before she is sure she won't yell. "Frak, Jesse." She returns the favor and wets a few fingers in water that should be equally chilly, her flicked drops aimed for his nose.

Finally, a shower stall opens up and Marko makes a bee line for it, toiletry bag bouncing in his wake. Towel doffed, hung on the peg, door closed, and shower on. None of this 'wait until the water gets hot' nonsense, either. "Gods dammit… frakkin' back… frakkin' sweat… frakkin' itching…."

Well, that answers her question about Marko. Apparently, his shower was more important than any other questions for his SL. So, Maggie dashes into her chosen shower herself, shutting the stall and finally tossing her towel across the back, no doubt quite bare assed now, but also quite hidden. She drowns massive red hair and freckled skin beneath hot water a moment later.

Shower stall acquired, Ibrahim claims his 'territory' with a towel slung over the door, and shuffles closer to one of the benches in order to peel himself out of his flight suit. A bar of soap that gets lobbed across the room is narrowly dodged with a duck of his head, and a couple of the pilots that happen to look his way get a little twitch of his lips in subdued greeting. Judging from the way he's moving, the middle aged Captain is sore.

"Congratu-…" SPLUT. Stavrian's mouth just kind of opens as Alessandra gets him in the nose with water. His hand lifts and wipes the drops away. "…-lations." His hand drifts back under the faucet, getting an ever so slightly larger palmful of water now. "You've got to be incredibly proud." The handful of water gets flicked back at Alessandra, better aimed this time with the help of the mirror.

Finally, as dry as his increasingly damp towel will get him, Trask gets around to wrapping it around his waist, tucking it into place. "Lucky, it's poor form to flirt with a married man," he starts to say in an innocent tone that really is guilty as hells, "especially when you have the hots for another guy." Out comes the toothbrush.

Alessandra is paying attention, so she sees when the larger amount of water's slung towards her, causing her to duck as if trying to dodge a tackler while on the Pyramid court. She's not missed entirely as the weightier drops get hit by gravity, those being what hit her, but the smaller drops of water go soaring by over head, flying towards whoever has the misfortune to be on the other side of her.

"Thank you. Quite proud," the Altar Boy notes, steering clear of the water while setting down his badger brush and taking up the razor. "Very, very proud," he trails off, starting the second shave pass.

"Hey, Boot. He started it," Alessandra half-wails out. "I'm just getting even." Or not, seeing as how Jesse is on the warpath.

"Stavrian," Bootstrap sardonically asks, "are you flirting with Lucky?" The faucet is turned on.

Sitka, as it turns out, is the one unfortunate enough to be on Lucky's other side at the moment. He's just finished kicking off the mess of his flight suit, and is in the process of lifting his sweat-soaked tshirt for a classy sniff, when he's pelted with a fair bit of water. His head jerks in Alessandra's — and by proxy, Stavrian's — direction, blue eyes focused on one then the other while he wipes it off his cheek.

Tisiphone pushes herself upright again, long enough to swap the towel around her waist for her bathrobe. She meticulously dries between her toes, despite the standing puddles of water already scattered around the head, glancing up as the Stavrian-Alessandra water fight spatters water on the floor.

Stavrian snorts softly at Alessandra and Trask. "All I know about pilots, I learned from Marines. And they say the only way to say hello to one was with projectiles. They may have been kidding now that I think about it, 'my bad'." He literally fingerquotes those two words. Then he happens to notice where those drops hit - Sitka. Ah ha ha. Crap.

Evandreus finally shuts off the shower again, having found it in him to lather up and wash, even, and not just stand there like a statue for half an hour. He reaches for where he'd usually hang his towel before he remembers he didn't bother bringing his, and gives a laugh at himself, finally just bracing himself and shaking like a wet dog, spattering the walls of the shower stall before he hops out, still drippy, but not quite drenched anymore.

"Sweet and… divine…" Marko half-sings, half hums to himself. "Razor… blade shines…" This would be charming if he could sing. Alas, the young ECO has a voice like a barking dog that's been drinking drain cleaner.

"…and I don't know why you think I have the hots for someone," Allie continues on, barely breathing between words. "Just who do you think I have the hots for, huh? Bet you don't have the balls to say wh…ooooo…" Looking up from her crouched position upon feeling eyes lingering on her, she pivots on the balls of her feet until she's looking up right at the Captain. "…*squeak*…"

Manny shakes his head at the puddles of water, giving a nod over at Tisiphone. "Should have asked my wife to send me some flip flops in her care package. By the goddess Hygeia, foot fungus nightmare in here."

"Sometimes, just a 'hello' can suffice," Shiv notes bemusedly, giving his hand a flick to rid it of water. His cheek briefly dimples with a smile, so he can't be too upset. Marko's singing just gets a slow shake of his head while he resumes undressing, to the tune of jingling dogtags.

Once her toes are perfectly, albeit briefly, dried, Tisiphone pulls her feet up to sit cross-legged on the bench. She's in the middle of draping her damp towel over her head like some sort of terry-cloth shroud when Evandreus kicks into his wet-dog performance art. Eyes warming a bit, she calls to him, "Gonna drip your way back to berths, then?"

Brush is run under the water, then coated in a sheen of toothpaste. Bootstrap takes his sweet time before he proverbially whips out his colossal cojones. "'Cuz I can smell you in heat whenever you're around Lasher." No amount of brushing is going to clean that filthy mouth. "In fact…" Brusha brusha brusha. "I can tell that…" Brusha brusha brusha. "I'm right 'cuz…" Spit. Brush under water and back in mouth. Spit redux. "That distinctive aroma is returning at the mention of his name."

"Dull. Always do it with the lights off too, sir?" Stavrian returns to Sitka, with a dry smirk. He picks up his towel finally drying off his hands and then his face. Trask laying into Alessandra about some other pilot gets a slight blink and he wipes off his mouth again. Not touching that one - watch, he even heads over to sit down and fish out his nail clippers.

It's not too long, Maggie pretty good at her military-timed showers, that the red head steps free of the shower, wrapped back up in her towel again, her red hair dripping and calmer all around her features, clinging to her neck and collarbones. She blinks, staring wide-eyed as she hears the words out of Trask's mouth. "…Frak, Kal… Do you really have to spread the vulgarity around?" Maggie shakes her head, turning on the ball of her foot and beginning to escape for the hatch. She'll change in the barracks. She doesn't need to fall under Trask's mood tonight!

"And who says chivalry is dead?" Manny says, commenting while looking over his shoulder at Trask. "Are you certain the smell is the leftenant?" Altar Boy comments, his tongue swirling the inside of his cheek pensively as the Picon accent kicks in. "It could be many other things, I'm certain."

"Fully clothed," Sitka rejoins, deadpan, flashing blue eyes Stavrian's way briefly before padding off to the shower in his skivvies. That last layer comes off shortly before he vanishes inside, thunks the door shut, and switches on the faucet full blast. Sweet, sweet cleanliness. The pilots are left to their debauchery.

Evandreus lifts a hand, palm up, as if in a shrug, but then curls in all but his forefinger, pointing on next door, "Not far to drip," he points out, though he seems just as comfortable soggy wet and half-pink from the scalding shower water as he does sans clothes. And he patters on drippily after his Cap'n. Presumably he's got a towel back in there.

Okay. She could handle his being right but did he have to put it -that way-? Hopefully Kal will have discredited himself with all the vulgarity he slings around with the truth, Allie hoping to fall out of any attention's range as well. "I have -no- frakking idea what it is you're talking about," she grouses deeply, fibbing through her teeth at the same time. "And I'd thank you kindly from refraining from saying anything to Las…" Gritting her teeth, Allie puts verbal breaks on and just hurries to start brushing her teeth. Yummy cinnamon tooooooooofpaste.

The trick to hurrying yourself up in the shower is to take the water as you find it. Most of the time, that means 'colder than a Temple daycare school campsite'. With a few more bars of horrid singing, Marko emerges clad in his towel, and returns to his locker to dry off as quickly as he can.

Stavrian smirks at Sitka's back. His blue eyes come up and glance after Evan as the pilot goes, then down at his hands, dirt still black under his short nails. Flicking open the blade part of the clippers, he shaves it under his thumbnail and then starts on the index. Pilot Luv Theatre, he keeps half an eye on for the amusement factor.

"It's like an owl and mouse when he's around." Suddenly, Tisiphone's offering her own feedback on the little Trask-and-Alessandra conversation. She hunches her head forward, eyes widening, and slowly, slo-o-owly pretends to track someone crossing the room. At the end of the invisible man's path, she shrugs the impression away with a snort and a brief, apologetic glance at Alessandra.

Continuing to rinse, Trask just remarks to Manny, "Positive. Trust me, man, just because she doesn't smell like your wife doesn't make it not so." Spit. The brush is rinsed. Then, smoothly ebbing back to the Alessandra part of the conversation, he casually quips, "You should've paid closer attention in Sex Ed. Anyway, don't worry. I won't tell 'im a thing. Don't have to. There's like /no way/ he doesn't already know."

Manny shrugs, "I was just going to suggest that perhaps the smell was your upper lip. Or maybe a really bad aftershave." The chaplain's aid rinses his face off and slaps aftershave on the skin, sighing at the flow of the conversation.

This name 'Lash' doesn't even ring a bell for the combat medic. Stavrian keeps a brow quirked up in some lingering amusement, especially as the chaplain's aide fires into the fray. The clipper blade scrapes under another fingernail.

Now for the brushings of teeth, the scraping of facial hairs and the combings of hair. Fortunately, Marko's toilet kit's got everything he needs for both. Trying hard to ignore the increasingly wonky banter going on at the sinks, he wets his brush under one such, squirts out a little egg of paste, and sets to. "Oh, heya, LT," he says to Stavrian, finally putting a name to the face. "How's things?"

That distinctive smell? On his lip? "Nah. I've yet to have her legs wrapped around my head, although I hear Picon girls taste particularly fishy." Someone should probably tell Manny to not feed the troll that is Trask.


"Okay… okay, truce. I… gods…" Looking at Manny, Allie doesn't pay attention like she should and manages to clip her head on the edge of the sink she's crouching by. There's no explosion of blood or a resounding crack, just a dull thud and a muffled curse, her face now screwed up into a mask of pain. "Crap on a stick, muther frakker, that hurts," she gets out before she gets up fully, not hearing Trask's retort to Manny about fishy women.

Damon has either had a long day, or he's just getting up by the looks of him. Toiletry kit in one hand and a towel slung over his shoulder, the bleary-eyed man shuffles into the heads with his boots unlaced and part of his shirt untucked from his trousers. Glancing up for a moment, he offers a friendly grunt in greeting to the room at large as he makes his way over to a sink.

Tisiphone's gaze flicks up and over to Manny for a moment, reappraising the fellow after his most recent comment. It bounces between Alessandra and Trask next, then slides away, mouth quirking, when the woman introduces skull to porcelain. "Could I borrow your clippers when you're done, Sir?" This to Stavrian, whom she's now looking at.

"I feel like I need a bag of popcorn right now," Stavrian replies to Marko, picking the little knife thing under his pinky. "That or some bleach for this room, I'm not sure yet. How've you been? Went out on the games earlier?" He grimaces as Alessandra hits her head, and there's the spark of Never Quite Off Duty in a medic. "You alright there, Lieutenant?" His head's already tilting towards Tisiphone, and he blows hard on the clippers edge. Dangling the chain on his pinky, he extends it over.

"A common urban myth. But if you were on Picon you would discover that fresh fish actually has no smell. Off-worlders, unfortunately, don't know what it's like to have fresh fish," Manny says, letting it sink in. "And I'm not talking in double entendres. Enough of the crap. I'd rather have a Picon woman in my bed than brandishing my junk in a ship's head like a four year old."

Reaching up and patting the sore spot atop her head nets Alessandra the knowledge that there is no blood or other signs of overt physical damage but, even then, it still hurts like a bitch. "Ouch. Yeah, I'm fine, Jesse. Going to have a knot for a few days but it's all good." Thankfully it's atop her skull and not the back; sleeping will be easy-peasy but wearing the flight helmet is going to be an experience in pain for a while. Hearing the banter between Kal and Manny, she decides to get out of the line of fire and she scoots over to where her dirty clothing has been put, her toothbrush and such put back in their rightful place while she comments to no one in particular, "Shit, I didn't know talking about who a woman likes could result in men regressing to the age of seven."

Tisiphone's somewhat tired expression lifts in a faint smile as she reaches over to snag the clippers from Stavrian. "Thanks," she murmurs. As the evening's adrenaline ebbs away, her mood shifts from skittery to languid, bright to bleak. "How'd you enjoy Chapel tonight?" she asks him. Making conversation deliberately, perhaps — she's pointedly not looking toward Manny, Alessandra and Trask.

"Yessir," Marko grins. "Now that was the most fun I've had in a looong time," he says between brushing and spitting. "Popcorn doesn't sound like too bad an idea…" he muses. "Or a good microphone," he smirks, inclining his head towards the Pilot Sex Trio of Trask, Allesandra and Manny.

"Seems like a lively conversation today," Damon chuckles aloud as he leans forward, scrutinizing his beard in the mirror. Apparently, it doesn't pass muster - he takes out a straight-razor and a shaving brush from his kit and starts running the hot water. "At least it's a welcome break from the constant shop-talk, even off-hours."

"It was beautiful." Stavrian folds his fingers in, inspecting his nails with a hint of fussiness to the time spent on them. Or maybe he's just Not Watching the confrontation either. He lowers his hand, setting it on the bench beside his leg. "Lot of wallflowers on this boat." A vague half-smile and he stands up, slowly. "But there'll be tomorrow. 'Cry out to Him: We shall sing Dionysus on the Holy Days, him who was so long away.' Hang onto those clippers, I need to get to duty. I'll get them from you sometime." Not too concerned is he, giving Marko a grave nod as he starts off. "Blackmail material for /years/, Ensign. Remember this well, it'll serve. Excuse me."

Bootstrap isn't utterly horrible. A sidelong glance is cast at Alessandra. "Y'arright, Lucky? I mean, other than the Gods smackin' you for lying." Mostly horrible, however, quite possibly. Having just finished brushing his teeth, perhaps he doesn't feel like rebrushing, and yet there is such a tasty morsel before him and the ECO simply cannot contain his amusement. "You're new," he smiles at Manny, letting it linger with an 'aww, how precious' look. "Okay, crash course in military life. (1) There's no such thing as fresh fish aboard this vessel, Piconese or otherwise. Maybe — maybe — there might be an up-until-now sheltered private or apprentice, but they'll soon enough be as stinky as a dead trout left in the sun for 3 days. The el-tee over here?" (Un)Lucky is indicated with a jerk of his thumb. "Ain't no up-until-now sheltered 18 year-old." That point ticked-off, Kal casually continues, "(2) Having anyone in your bed and your dick hangin' out — as is the common practice of military folk… but you'll eventually learn that if you last long enough — aren't mutually exclusive. Now, if you wanna brandish yours like a four year-old… well, if it's that size, yeah. You might wanna keep it covered-up." By the time he finishes, he's packed-up his stuff.

Alessandra buh? "Blackma… Jesse? What the frak…" Groaning, she tosses a wary look towards Tisiphone, her face bright, bright, NEON red, the coloring vivid enough to compete with that of the neon signs found at… wherever. "Yes, Trask. I am fine. Still living." Despite the fact that she's almost dying from embarrassment, of course. "So yeah. Thank you." She shrugs and sighs. What a way to celebrate a victory, huh?

Tisiphone's nails, already quite short, are rendered even shorter. Clip. Clip. She actually cups her hand around the clippers as she works, to keep the nail fragments from flying about. "It was, wasn't it?" she says to Stavrian. "The Chaplain's amazing." She dips a nod to him as he stands. "Of course, Sir." She watches him for a moment, then looks down again, back to trimming her nails.

"See ya 'round, LT," Marko nods, then sniggers madly at the icy dressing down Trask gives the other dude in the conversation.

"Glad to hear, Sophronia," Kal tells Ally. Then, not waiting for Manny to issue any reply, he gathers his things and tosses off a jaunty scout-style salute to those present. "See ya in the mornin', Cee Vee Double-U Fourteen." Shout out givin' to his peeps, the senior ECO is out.

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