| Perfectly Fine |
| Summary: | Perfect and fine are not synonyms. Trask does, however, finally get around to apologizing to and reconciling with Quinn. |
| Date: | 06 Jul 2042 AE |
| Related Logs: | Annual Performance Review - Jugs (the need for an apology); Sprechen Sie Dinner Roll? (the need for a dress); There's No Place Like Home (blood on the walls) |
| Players: |
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| Guest Quarters - Deck 3 - Battlestar Cerberus |
| The area here has been spiffed up for the Delegates. Bunks are kept neat as a pin, the lockers are brand new and have a beautiful shine on the fake wood. A table sits in the center with a vase of fake flowers resting in the middle. The deck has been mostly covered with a round, braided rug of multiple colors. To the back of the area, there is a private shower area. This is just one of five separate areas along Deck 3. |
| Condition Level: 3 - All Clear |
| Post-Holocaust Day: #495 |
Historically speaking, three (3) week for Kal to come 'round to make nice after being a jerk upon his becoming really upset about something isn't an unusual amount of time. It's actually even on the shorter end of things, less than ideal as it is. Here he is, though, busy playing some nonsense game with his increasingly less (but still) wee niece while awaiting the end of shift return of Maggie, all made possible by an intentionally last minute rotation switch so he'd be the one present upon aforementioned end of shift return.
Quinn steps into the room, just off of shift, sweaty from her helmet and flight suit but looking a hint more svelte with every passing week, her stomach shrinking as her baby grows. She arches a brow as she sees him there, unexpected of THAT face being in her room. "Stranger," she greets simply as she heads for her locker to hang her flight suit up.
Without missing a beat, Trask finishes the famous saying, "And stranger still." Which, really, should be expected with how he has a habit of twisting what someone says into something they didn't mean. "Ain't that right, Dumplin'?" Must be if the happy noise the baby makes is any indication.
Fighting the urge to look at Quinn, he continues to amuse his niece, which offers suitable enough distraction that he can summon enough bravado to nonchalantly admit with a hint of self-deprecating humor, "Case in point: I was kind of jerk the other day." Beat. "Week." Beat. "Whatever. You know what I mean." Beat… two… three… "Anyway, I'm sorry." Which is somewhat easier to admit when followed with a coochie-coo patter of fingers against Kalli's chest and belly.
Quinn isn't really certain what to say to it all, so she says nothing for a long few moments, just finishing hanging up her flight suit and the shimmying into her BDU slacks. She just keeps on the same tanks she was wearing. Finally, she breathes out, "…You should be… that… That felt like shit. I didn't even -want- to get married after that. My frakking best friend… and I thought you weren't even going to come to the wedding." She lilts out with a slightly cranky growl to her throat.
At that, he snickers and scoffs and makes a face. "The hells you didn't. You've been wanting to get married since you were five years old. And, need I remind you, it's your frakking best friend who was offering suggestions about how to plan your wedding and you copped an attitude 'cuz I said I had no idea what to do about a dress." No, it did not really play out that way, although the timing of her giving him attitude /did/ come right after his frustrated attempt at being helpful, so it isn't an entirely unrealistic spin on events. More to the point, it permits him to follow-up with, "Which, by the way, I did figure out something about the dress."
Brown eyes still remain upon the smaller redhead lest the elder Quinn really get a chance to see just how hurt and vulnerable he's feeling beneath that blithe blustering. "And, for the record, you deciding that it wasn't important to tell me was pretty damn craptastic of you, too." Yeah. All these weeks later, it still stings a little. Taking a calming breath, his mouth twists in a vaguely rankled manner that he smoothes out with, "Whatever. I'm over it." Which he actually means this time, as opposed to the last time.
"So." Now looking at Maggie. "The dress… you totally love it, right?" Beyond the nonchalant approach, he hopes all hopes that she absolutely does. Someone so well-acquainted with him and his assorted quirks and tells could determine that much.
Quinn watches him hard now, just… Confused, really. Not certain how to respond, how to get over the anger and hurt so immediately. It's been three weeks to stew. Three weeks thinking she was getting married without her best friend. Three weeks of moving on and now he just wants to… Forget it ever happened? Not totally relaxed yet, but she finally murmurs. "Yes… We… we had the dress fitting, at least. I think they're still working on it, but… but… It's lovely. Thank you. I know you… you talked her into that. I don't know why you did but… Thank you."
Three weeks of stewing and now he just wants to forget that it ever happened? Why, yes. Yes, he does. That's just how he rolls. Have a big blow-out and then, eventually, pick up the pieces and sweep away the residual debris and pretend that nothing ever transpired.
Especially in light of new drama. "Lovely?" That sounds a hint incredulous and less than pleased. "Lovely," is rather flatly repeated. "Okay, lovely is not good enough." Because his BFF and adopted sister deserves so much more than 'lovely'. "What's wrong with it?" Because he /will/ get it fixed. So pressing a problem is this that he does not yet snark a response to her stating she doesn't know why he bothered doing something nice.
Quinn's eyes widen a bit as he thinks that lovely is a bad word. In her brain, lovely works. "…Nothing's wrong with it? It's lovely. Truly. It's beautiful. It's blue. It's perfect? Is that what you want to hear? Kal, it's -fine-… Thank you, truly. Both you and Sawyer. Thank you." She insists almost adamantly, now in slight shock and confusion over it all.
It's not a bad word. It's just not good enough. "Nothing. Really." It's too pissy to qualify as a question, but Quinn also didn't sound so sure when she began her protestations. "Perfect," he repeats in the same displeased manner because she didn't sound convinced there either. No, Maggie does not look like a woman who adores her wedding gown, and every bride-to-be is supposed to absolutely heart her dress, right? "Well, unless language did a total one-eighty, perfect and fine are not synonyms." And now Trask is really starting to get upset, but he's making an effort to be constructive about it. After a frown and another deep breath, he asks, "Why don't you love it? What's missing?" Because he genuinely wants to her have what she wants.
Quinn winces slightly, lost for words, not certain how to explain any of this. His insistent, almost dramatic words are enough to actually drag it out of her without ever really thinking through the words, "My family…" She breathes out, a sudden well of tears in her eyes that she never really expected. Maybe this is exactly why she hasn't gotten excited about the wedding at all even if she'd never admitted it before. "…My mom… and dad… all my siblings… my home… I was supposed to get married in my back yard… and have dad walk me down the aisle…" Her voice suddenly falters, a tear trickling free.
So it's not the dress that's the problem? Kal's mouth opens to verify that fact, but the question dissipates before it reaches his tongue, which leaves him looking almost comedically puzzled while he tries to determine just what has happened. This eventually subsides and gives way to sympathy. Collecting Kalli, he cradles the infant in his arms and rises to his feet. "I'm pretty sure anything I might say would be inadvertently insensitive, and saying I'm sorry is just trite… so, uh… yeah." One need only look at him to pick up on all that he can't verbally convey. Maggie is hurting and it hurts him to see her hurt.
Quinn tries to blink back some more tears, but they keep falling free and streaking down her pale, freckled features. She uses the back of her wrist to try and wipe those tears away but now that she's let things out it's going to be a good bit before she can stop them up again. "I… I'm… s-sorry… It just… wasn't supposed to be… like this. I can't even… r-really… remember what home looked like. I keep seeing… blood on the walls and the field flooded. I don't want to get married on metal… Gods, Kal… I don't know if I can do this…"
Yeeeeeeeah. This is going beyond his comfort zone, particularly because he's actually refraining from making some facetious comment as a means of coping. So, what does Bootstrap do? He offers a distraction in the form of a squirming but still happy baby. Or perhaps Kalli is meant to compensate for the lack of sugar-coating when he points out, "If you want to, you can. If you don't want to, maybe you still can. Whether or not you will is another matter entirely." That said, in an attempt to be constructive, he adds, "Hydroponics has plants, but I'm not thinkin' it looks like a garden. And I still dunno what's the deal with Gemenon. If we go there and it looks like no one's gonna kill anyone for ten minutes, maybe we can have a ceremony down there. Exchange your vows, at least. Sam gettin' carved will definitely require more than ten minutes."
Quinn accepts the squirming, happy, curious Kalli into her arms, she scooping the baby instinctively against her shoulder and rubbing her fingertips up and down the girl's back. At least Maggie does seem to calm. She doesn't need Short Kal picking up on her tears. Her breath catches a heartbeat or two in her throat as she tries to calm the last few sobs. "…Maybe… maybe Gemenon… wouldn't be a bad idea. If the brass… will allow. Just something small. Something… under a sky. And that's fine. He can get carved up here… we can have something informal and official here, first…"
"Just tell me what you want, Magpie, and I'll find a way to make it happen." He's so very earnest is his vow and tender in the way he gently brushes back a scraggly strand of damp hair from her forehead.
Quinn blinks a few more tears free as he brushes his fingertips against her forehead. The tender touch definitely brings another tear or two as she nods weakly. "…I… I just have to… figure it out. I know… and… I want you to walk me down the aisle… I do know that," she whispers. Probably half the issue she had with being so mad at him.
"Next you're gonna tell me I need to wear my greys," the oh so informal officer quips with a faint faux exasperation. Even so, if she asks, he will. Odds are he won't even grouse because it's just /that/ important to Maggie, which makes it important to him.
Quinn smirks deeply at him, through still glassy eyes. "…Only if you want to… If you could find a real suit, that'd be fine too…" But some sort of dress attire is going to be a requirement. "Does that mean you -will-?" She asks, her voice still a bit raw and crackling.
Cue the dramatic eye roll. "No," he smirks, "I'm gonna let you walk down the aisle all by your lonesome." Which is his way of saying that, yes, he -will- grant her escorting wish.
Quinn gives his ankle a light little shove with the toe of her foot, since her arms are quite occupied by the baby who is now drowsily beginning to drop off to sleep on her shoulder. Drooling too, of course. "You're annoying as hell, you know that?" Her way of saying she loves him, no doubt.
"Okay, seriously, your next birthday gift is one of those Word of the Day calendars. First, you think perfect and fine mean the same thing. And second? The proper adjective is insufferable." Which is his way of saying that he knows he's annoying as hell. The manner he gives Quinn's ankle a light little shove with the toe of his own boot is also his way of saying he loves her, too. No doubt.