| Observation Lounge High School |
| Summary: | We've got arts and crafts, boozing, nap-time, and study hall, all in the observation lounge - just like in high school. Right? Kinda? |
| Date: | 05 Apr 2041 AE |
| Related Logs: | None |
| Players: |
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| Observation Deck - Deck 3 - Battlestar Cerberus |
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| Post Holocaust Day: #38 |
| With a quiet view to the stars, this tends to be one of the more popular 'quiet areas' of the Cerberus. Up front is a small-unseated area for ceremonies or other activities while the seating rises up behind it. Each level rises up behind the one before it, comfortable chairs and couches set up for crewmembers to relax, get some work done or even take a nap. A large armored plate is lowered during Condition One to protect the interior against a breach in the glass. |
| Condition Level: 3 - All Clear |
Another evening in the Observation deck. Lunair seems to favor this location. She's settled in on the couch with some cool drinks, and is quietly reading as she sits. It's peaceful here, even with the odd person milling in and out.
Fresh from the showers following a duty shift, Cilusia has made her way down to the observation lounge, finally. She'd heard quite a bit about this joint, and finally has a spare second to come on down and check out the marvel that is a view out into the cold and dark of space. Wet hair hangs limp around her head and neck as she strolls in wearing her off-duty threads. "Well, I'll be…that is a frakkin' view," she blurts out once she's standing right square in front of the glass looking out, hands on her hips.
Even Marines chill sometime right? Sadly, Lunair is not shower fresh but she does not reek either. A smile hearing the comment though. "Isn't it? it was nice when we saw Antares, the heart. Big red star," As if just replying to comments were normal. "Though, it's also a nice place for a drink or reading." Much less packed than most areas. "Or weaving. Hello there." Beam.
"Heh, I wish I had something to drink. Pretty soon, I may just say frak it and take a swig of Viper fuel. Lords know that shit's potent enough. I'll probably kill you with how high-test it is though." Finding a couch near enough Lunair to chat comfortably without yelling, Cilusia flops down into the cushions. WHUMP! Mostly because she takes a bit of a leap into them, before she stretches out, not long enough even to go arm-to-arm on the cushions. Pillowing her head up on her arm, she looks out and watches the stars. "I'd have to check out a book from the ship's library to enjoy a good read though. I didn't exactly bring any of my own books."
Hee! Lunair smiles, "I am glad for my rum. I can pour you a little if you like," She offers. She looks amused at Cil's flop onto the couch. "So would I," She admits. "But that's what it's there for," She notes. A pause. "We've introduced ourselves before right?" She lifts her sleeve. Myriads of post-its, almost enough to make Lunair a jacket, are posted there. With various things like times, dates, names and tasks. Someone has a short term memory problem. She straightens in her seat to see if Cil's name is among them.
"Well, yeah, I believe we've met before! Down in the library in fact. And please, I'd dive headlong into a patrol of toasters for some good booze right about now." That has gotten her attention, as she perks up on the couch to look back over the cushions at Lunair.
Beam! "That's right!" Lunair notes and finds the appropriate post-it. She grins as Cil perks up and looks over. She grunts, straightening and finding a silver flask. "It's not a huge amount, but it's something." She offers. "Uh. Let me see. I don't know if I've a spare glass, so I guess you can drink from the flask-" At least she uses the glass normally. Lunair quietly fills her cup, before offering the flask over. There's enough to get a decent buzz off of. "It's not HIGH quality, but you won't be vowing to abstain forever."
"Thanks much!" Cilusia replies, taking that flask with much gratitude. Of course, that precedes her unscrewing the lid and taking a daring swig of the untested stuff. Burning like fire all the way down, Cilusia winces a little and pulls the corner sof her mouth up, inhaling a bit. Sticking her tongue out and breathing once or twice through her mouth, she eventually wipes her lips off with the back of her arm. "Wowzers, that's…good stuff."
"Think nothing of it," Lunair smiles. Officers get the good stuff sometimes. She tilts her head, though - watching Cil drink just to be sure. She'd feel bad if her hair caught fire or what have you. An amused look crosses her face. "You think so? I'm glad. It was something of a gift before I left home. Hadn't gotten around to drinking it, but I figured a quiet evening with a book, the stars and a light drink would be nice. Have you been well?" She asks quietly.
"I'm fine, given the circumstances. I'm sure there are people doing better, and people doing worse, you know, with all that's happened." As she talks, Cilusia lies back down on the couch, sipping more gently from the flask now. "If I had been smarter, I would've stuffed some booze into my bag before transferring, but you know, when the transfer is kinda forced, well, ain't got too much say in the matter! How about you?"
"Yeah," Lunair agrees. At least they didn't get Cyl-pwnt. She takes a deep breath and sips from her cup. "Well. If I had thought this was going to happen, I'd have brought more. But there you go." She blinks at the forced transfer comment. There's a curious look, but she stifles it. "Doing well enough. I'm a bit boring when I'm not being shot at by Cylons or pretending to be a toaster myself." She smiles. "Getting used to not having so much hair. Kinda breezy really."
"Damn shame we can't open up this window and go crusing, huh? Battlestar Convertible, right?" Another sip. "Man, I frakkin' remember doing that stuff way back in the day on Scorpia…cruising I mean. Staying out 'til all hours, worrying my parents sick, totally hanging with the crowd on the wrong side of the street." While she reminisces, she stares out into space a little bit, but forces herself to screw the cap back on the flask. "Hey…heads up. I don't want to drink it all," she says when she turns back to Lunair to gently toss the flask back over.
"That'd be fun," Lunair grins. She tilts her head. "Really?" She seems touched to be let in on the memories and looks abit more amused by the images. "Oh? Thank you, if you're sure." Lunair will catch the flask. She's sitting on a couch near Cilusia, chatting amiably. "I'm glad to see you though. It never ceases to amaze me how I always find new faces," Lunair admits. But when you've got the short term memory of a special needs goldfish, that's hardly difficult. "And hm. I liked to cruise a bit, but mom always sent a chauffeur with me." Sadness.
"Eh, grew up in money then? Why are you here, of all places?" It's definitely better than the alternative, though, right? That part goes unsaid, since Cilusia's not that drunk. "If there's one thing I wish I had more of growing up, it's definitely money, but parents did what they could. We weren't ever without, but we were always stretched thin, it seems."
Marko ambles into the Observation Deck with some obscure, scholarly and heavy-looking tome on the First Cylon War tucked under his arm and a reading lamp clipped to his t-shirt. There's a cup of ersatz coffee in his hand which he sips from constantly as he finds a place to sit, flicking on the lamp and pointing it at the book. Dorky looking? Probably. Effective? You betcha.
"Yeah. It's a long story, but it ends with me giving up the right to my inheritance and family name and being here," Lunair notes wryly. She smiles a little. "It has its ups and downs. I am in a way, glad I did though. I was so lazy, they were going to foist me off as someone's wife." Trophy wife- it's not Lunair's favorite. "On the upshot, since joining I've lost 30 pounds." No longer chubby Lunair. She seems sympathetic though. "Sometimes I wish I'd kept it to share with the people I met here. But there you go." A shrug. She pauses and smiles. It's a Marko! Aw, so dorky and cute. She could scoop him up and buy him goggles. "Hello there. Would you like to sit?"
Well now, who's this? Cilusia has no idea, but she does turn over on the couch, taking up a position on her belly to look on over at Marko. One eyebrow goes up a little when she spots the light attached to his shirt; handy, but yes, kinda dorky. "Well godsdamned…what are you reading? Is that a large-print copy of the scrolls or what?" Damn that book is pretty massive.
"Heya Lun." Marko grins, well, _daws_ actually to Lunair. "Yeah, pretty much." he admits, blushing as he catches sight of her. "Doing some research." he adds in response to Cilusia. "And yes, it is heavy."
A faint blush in turn. "Well. You are welcome to sit on the couch," Lunair offers. Daw. She smiles warmly. "It does look like pretty intense reading," She tilts her head. "But I like the light." Goofball. "I think I may get some rack time in. I can leave a bit of rum behind before I go though if you like."
"Well, unless our resident scholar here wants a sip, you should take it back to your locker. Save it for another day, you know?" Sage advice, or a suggestion so that Cilusia might hit Lunair up for a swig some other time? Regardless, she's got enough of a warmth in her gut to make wriggling into a comfortable position there on that couch feel right nice when she closes her eyes to try for a bit of a nap.
"Thanks." Marko replies, finding a spot near Lun and stretching out a little to get his scholar on. "Eh, none for me, thank you." he adds. "Got CAP in the morning. Bad time for a hangover." he remarks, making the kind of face of one who knows how that feels. "You going to bed?" he asks Lun.
Aaww. Getting his scholar on. It's adorable. Lunair is a dork. She smiles. "Sure thing," She can respect that. And a nod towards Cilusia. "Good idea." And she looks to Marko, "Yeah. I may as well before I'm sent out and about or something. I owe you some candy or book time though," She may well be a closet nerd. "I'm glad to see you both though," This is sincere. "Thank you and be well.
From her position on the couch (The Position, even), Cilusia holds up a hand and waves to Lunair. She doesn't really look toward the departing marine, since she's right comfortable, and watching her go would be a complicated process of rolling over, again, propping her head back up, looking over the arm of the couch. And really, she's so comfortable (and quite the target there) with her head buried in the nook of her elbow with her cheek on couch cushion; she's short enough that she can lie entirely flat between the arms of the thing, remember.
"Sleep well." Marko says, _daw_'ing again to Lunair as the Marine with the fab, entrancing purple eyes starts to make her exit. "Hey, keep an eye on your ship's mail. Got something for you." he adds with the ghost of a wink. Mushy, much?
A wave back and a grin at Cil's comfiness. Impressive! Lunair blushes at Marko and nods, "I-I will thank you. And ah-! You're too kind." Before she turns red enough to reach critical mass and implode, she scampers off.