| Rant & Run |
| Summary: | Santi & Sawyer have a brief chat in the mess over various topics, not the least of which are apologies and the state of things. |
| Date: | 03 Mar 2041 |
| Related Logs: | Just before: Two Houses. |
| Players: |
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| Galley | Deck 9 - Battlestar Cerberus | Condition Level: 2 - Danger Close |
Behind the two hangar decks, the Cerberus' Galley is the largest room on the ship. Nearly half the size of a football field, the eating area is made up of long lines of stainless steel tables that can be folded up and placed against the wall for larger events. Individual seats are the standard military issue, boring and grey with lowest-bidder padding. The line for food stretches across one of the shorter sides of the room while the kitchen behind works nearly twenty-four hours a day to produce either full meals or overnight snacks and coffee for the late shifts.
Santiago makes her way through the Mess line, and orders up something fairy simple — toast, an apple, and a cup of tea. It's not really dinner, as dinners go, but the blonde isn't in the mood to brave any entrees today. She grabs a tea bag from the selection, and finds a table to park at, with her tray and notebook.
Sawyer enters not long after Santiago has settled at a table, carrying a tall glass that is coated with a thick green residue. She crosses by the bins of dirty dishes to add her own to the mix to be washed, and happens to spot the platinum blonde on her way back out. Diverting her path, the reporter ends up plopping down across from Santiago instead.
Santiago takes a bite of her toast, eyes idly roaming the odd late night visitor to the Mess. She spots Sawyer just a little after the other woman's already spotted her, once she's turned to head in her direction. She lifts a hand and finger-waves, a few bracelets jangling on her arm, then waits for the other blonde to come within easy speaking distance before she says, "Hey. How're you holding up?" Without an 18 year old witness sitting around, she's free to ask. It's unlikely anyone is listening too intently here, simply because most of the tables in the direct vicinity are empty.
Sawyer gives an exhale that puffs out her cheeks before declaring: "You're a hard woman to single out." Settling across from her, the reporter props her elbows on the table and folds her arms one over the other. "After the Admiral's announcement, I've barely had time to think. The News Room was insane for a while…but I guess that answers your questions of the other Colonies. Or at least, what everyone is expecting now. Wide massive destruction. I'd just like a little confirmation." Sawyer eyes Santiago's meal, but either already ate or just isn't hungry. "You know I missed my own damn birthday? I've had my head shoved so far up this story, I just plum forgot." A pause, as if she's remembering her manners. "You?"
"I was in the laundry," the Aquarian replies, with a little smirk. She clearly wasn't doing laundry. Unless she's taken to doing someone else's. "It made me a little sick to my stomach, but I'm feeling a little better." She brushes a few crumbs from her arm, and looks across the table to Sawyer. "Yeah. Wide, massive destruction. Annihilation of life as we know it." Crunch. "That's a frakkin' heavy topic." She smiles faintly, "Happy birthday. Belated." She drops the toast on the plate, and unwraps her tea with a crinkle, then drops it into the mug to steep. "My face hurts from faking smiles all damn day."
"You don't /do/ laundry." Sawyer is quick to point out. "Must be difficult being a public figure, I can only imagine. Of course it doesn't help, with people like me hounding you at all hours of the day." Even though Sawyer herself has been on relatively good behavior around Blue. "Thank you. For the birthday wishes. Seems a little surreal now, My best friend was throwing me a party on Picon. I was supposed to head back on the morning of the twenty-eighth and I was going to meet a bunch of people from the Magazine at the hotel." She exhales again, "Anyways. What were you doing in the laundry? You said you had a mess to fix?"
"I know. I wasn't doing laundry. I was supervising laundry." Santiago props her chin against her hand. "I'm not so much a public figure as the offspring of a public figure. What do I have to offer but this pretty face." She points to her mostly blank expression. No smile is forthcoming. "That sounds like it would be nice. I love having parties in hotels. No mess to clean up, no tidying to do before hand. Rented houses are also nice, particularly with pools. And no one really cares if it catches fire, except the insurance company." She reaches back, and slips a little blade out from under the table, flicks it open, and begins to carve up her apple. "I apologized to Captain Cranky for calling him a root chewing, dirty manwhore… something." She waves her hand a little. "It went ok."
Sawyer unfolds one of her arms from the pile, hitching her head on the flat of her palm as she just watches Santiago as if entranced. Who carries around their own knife just to cut apples? "Which one is Captain Cranky, again?" Sawyer asks, a little wrinkle between her eyebrows.
Santi pops a sliver of apple into her mouth, and smiles slightly as she chews. The expresison fades before she rubs her cheeks and elaborates, "The broodingly angry one that sleeps under you. With the Aquarian sleeve tattoo." She points to her arm, then pops another sliver of apple into her mouth.
"Sitka? Really?" Sawyer's lips press together as she thinks on that for a moment. "I actually found him…sort of charming. Huh. I mean, I want to strangle him the way he can't answer a direct question, but…" She shrugs off the notion. "So it just went okay? What were you apologizing for?" Either she can't stop being a reporter, or she's just asking a friendly question. It's hard to say.
"We had a fight the other night." Santiago carves up her apple, shaving off thin slides from the edge down. When she hits the core, she turns it a quarter turn and begins again. "Aquarians and Sagitarrons don't always mix. Our tempers." She shakes her head, gestures with a slice of apple — of white edged with red. "Our cultural differences. Saggie men are arrogant fraks who aren't used to women telling them where to shove it." She's silent for a beat, then adds, "I affect some people that way." She hms. "Charming? Really?"
Sawyer reaches out to dare to nab a piece of apple as it falls away from the blade, risking her own fingers for a sliver of the fruit without asking. "Hmm. Yeah, I suppose I've gotten from him that strong women unsettle him. Maybe that's why he cut an interview short once. Interesting. I'll have to think on that angle. I don't know what it is, but there's this quiet…energy to him. If I was able to capture it in my pictures, I'll have to show you after I develop them."
The knife stills as Sawyer reaches over, and Santiago tips the apple a little to allow the reporter the time to take the piece safely. The knife resumes its passage once again, just after. "Photodocumenting your bunkmates? There are some fairly good looking men aboard." She crunches a juicy little piece of fruit, then hms. "I took photography lessons for a while. I have a camera in my bags, one of them. In storage." She says that as if the options are many — the bags in storage. Apropos of nothing, she says, "I keep thinking I'm going to wake up, curse myself for too many drugs at a wild party, and go about my day with a horrific hangover."
Sawyer mmms. "Most of my photos are digital, but I have an old fashioned winder that takes more gritty shots. The News room has a dark room off of it, just for the occasion, if you ever need to use it." Sawyer pops the wedge of apple in her mouth, chewing on it quietly during Santiago's last. Then, "I know. I don't even think most of us are facing it, even after the Admiral's announcement. Unfortunately, I don't get that luxury. It's my job to hurtle myself straight at the truth." A sigh, and the Reporter reaches across to quickly lay a hand on Santiago's forearm. "You ever need to talk, off the record even, you know where to find me. Sorry I can't stick around for a proper meal just yet, though. I still have to figure out how my article made it out of my bunk and into general circulation. Sorry to vent and flee…" But she seems to be doing just that.