PHD #326: Thanks For Stopping By
Thanks For Stopping By
Summary: Trask returns something of Sawyer's. Wounded pride and hurt feelings are also exchanged.
Date: 18 Jan 2042 AE
Related Logs: Sleeping Arrangements (the earring)
Sawyer Trask 
News Room - Deck 3 - Battlestar Cerberus
Post-Holocaust Day: #326
This room isn't huge by any means, but it does have all the updated equipment and a small news staff that runs the area.
Condition Level: 3 - All Clear

It's the news room. Not much changes in here on a day to day basis beyond the work product that leaves here. There's a desk in the corner that seems to be utilized now, but beyond that even the blonde sorting through a stack of papers is a constant. She's misplaced something again, which also isn't out of the ordinary, and now it's a mad search to find it. A cigarette smolders between her lips, and there's a travel case in her desk chair.

The sound that the hatch makes when it opens and closes is one of those things that somewhat varies. That, however, hinges on whether or not the hinges could use some oil. "Lost your scruples, again?" That insouciantly cheeky tone of Trask's, however, is one of those things that can be filed in the 'Not Much Changes' column.

The journalist flicks a glance up, looking at him from the tops of her eyes only. A smirk is revealed as she pulls her smoke from her lips and props it in a nearby ashtray. "I swear I left them right here," Sawyer says dryly, "but the damn things are so tiny, they keep getting accidentally thrown away." Papers go back to getting shuffled. "I had some notes I wanted to take with me, but I guess I'll be flying blind."

"Swing by the chapel or somethin'? Maybe the library?" Without missing a beat, the man is in motion and following-up with, "I'm sure there must be something in one of the scriptures about morality and propriety of action." As if that is what the missing notes pertain to. With utter aplomb, he reaches for the recently deposited cigarette. It can't accidentally be thrown away if it's in his mouth, right?

"For a man so adamant about not sharing his belongings, you sure have no qualms about helping yourself to mine." Not that Sawyer's moving to stop him; she's too preoccupied with trying to find whatever it is she lost, which at this point might just be her mind. The lap drawer of her desk is pulled open and a notebook is flipped through before it's tossed on top of her satchel. "Speaking of morality and propriety, did you run across my other earring, by the way? Short of popping your lock, I couldn't find it yesterday morning."

No qualms. None. That impish gleam in those big brown eyes is self-evident of that, even as he 'seriously' proclaims, "Finder's fee." Puff. Puff. With his free hand, he reaches into a front pocket and retrieves the earring in question, dangling the hoop from the crook of one finger. "You been back to my locker to check if that's where you left your scruples?"

"Again, I would have had to pick the lock, and that seems to defeat the purpose of trying to find one's scruples by breaking and entering." Sawyer reaches out to try and take the hoop from the hook of his finger, but pauses as if expecting him to jerk it away. "My hero." Hand flips palm up, waiting for him to deposit it instead. "I'd say thank you for your hospitality, by the way, but that would just be awkward."

Vaguely shrugging, he remarks, "I figured it would be outside of the locker. Maybe on the floor. Yanno, 'cuz you didn't actually break into it." At the sight of the extended palm, his mouth faintly quirks with a certain mischief and he starts to idly twirl the earring until it 'accidentally' falls into the open satchel. "Oops. Lemme find that for you…" Quickly, he moves to snatch the bag before Sawyer can prevent his impertinent rummaging.

"Whoa-heyheyhey!" Sawyer makes a lunge to stop him from yanking away the bag, but she's not on her game tonight and Trask has his way. With a sigh, she just leans her rump back against the edge of her desk and folds her arms over her chest. "I know you are desperate to paw at my undergarments, but I was sort of hoping I'd be wearing them when that finally occurred." Indeed, it's an overnight bag of some sort, with a few changes of clothing and some assorted sundries on top of which she was beginning to pack her various work-related accoutrements.

Puff. Puff. Rummage. Rummage. "I did more than paw those stockings." Relayed as though they were a standard tube sock, so to speak. Out of all the contents, though, it's the notebook that he takes. Opening it, he flips a few pages and starts to read aloud, "'I wonder if Kal realizes it wasn't the cigarettes that I wanted to pop in my mouth.'" As an aside, Trask notes, "I know," then continues, "'One of these days, I am going to gobble-gobble that wild turkey of his.'" A mildly admonishing glance to the reporter. "Really? Wild turkey? I know you were doing a play on words but that's still pretty uninspired."

"I've heard epic tales of your fapping. There is no way that delicate silk could have stood up to such a rigorous assault." Sawyer's hand lolls out, fingers curling in a 'gimme gimme' motion for the notepad. "Let's pretend for just one moment that I were actually back in fifth grade and kept a diary, fellatio would be your fantasy, not mine. Girls fantasize about steamy kisses and getting frakked against walls, not about doing knee-duty."

"That's just what you girls say 'cuz of feminism. The irony is that in denying this deep, yearning desire you are actually conforming to socially restrictive gender-typing and oppression. Tragic, really. Especially for a woman with a self-professed oral fixation." Cue the small, disparaging frown and 'tsk-tsk, what a shame' shake of his head. Flip-flip-flip go more pages. "Rene-Marie? She from your bicurious days back on Virgon?" Tapping some cigarette ash to the floor, Kal comments, "There should be more groping. Maybe a pillow fight. That's usually how it happens, right? Girls have a sleepover, there's a pillow fight, then they end-up groping and tonguing each other."

"Groping and tonguing were in fact involved. But it's not a girl." Before Trask can get any further in depth than that, Sawyer is reaching out to try and snatch the notebook from him. Of course, the entries in there are much more oblique and seem more in the 'fact' than 'opinion' category. "Lieutenant Kal Trask, confirm or deny that you'll miss me while I'm gone. That is what this is all about, isn't it? Seeing a bag of my packed clothing has caused this uncomfortable burning sensation called 'feelings' and the only way you know how to deal with that is to be crass."

"That is false," he confidently proclaims. "Being crass is only one of several ways. And it's okay. I won't negatively judge you for having an experimental period. Chick-on-chick action can be a beautiful thing." Rene-Marie a man's name? Yeah, right. Cigarette back in mouth, Trask closes the notebook and drops it back in the bag. "Stick to journalism. You have no talent for writing smut." More rummaging reveals a single silk stocking that he holds up to the light. "Hello, again," he smiles knowingly at the garment. "She underestimates your tenacity."

"You didn't answer the question, Lieutenant." Sawyer slips up fully to sit on her desk, legs crossing at the ankles and one shoe slipping off her heel to catch on the crook of her toes. "All you did is evade, which is admirable for a pilot, but pretty damning for an ECO." Seeing how he stole her last cigarette, she works on lighting up another while he continues to rummage in her personal belongings.

For a moment longer, he holds the stocking and tells it, "She's just jealous." Then, quite neatly, he gathers the silken item with its mate and tucks them into the satchel. "Maybe my press agent will have a comment for you upon your return." Because nothing is ever easy with the likes of him. "I believe that this belongs to you." The earring is finally fished from the bag and set down on a desktop, followed by said bag. "I saw a camera in there. If you girls fool around, be sure to take some pictures, yeah?"

Sawyer makes a non-commital mmm sound as she takes a draw against the filter of her cigarette, filling her lungs full of smoke. Her face cants away from him then, enough to hide behind a straight shock of carefully flat-ironed blonde under the guise of an exhale. "Well, thanks for stopping by." It's the sort of statement that one issues when they have nothing left to say. It has subtle hints of exasperation, delicate undertones of defeat, and a rich bouquet of a well-aged 'remind me why I give a frak again'.

Since the cigarette is just about to the filter, Bootstrap moves over to grind it out in the ashtray. "I have no doubt you'll skewer the frakker." Perhaps there's something more to the flippant frustrations the ECO inflicts. It wouldn't be the first time he's used twisted means to motivate. After all, after this little interlude, odds are that Sawyer will be even less likely to tolerate any kind of crap from anyone.

"I always do." Sawyer's voice comes out as a smoky murmur, said with a careless confidence she's no doubt had to practice in order to be able to exude. There's a slight shift of her head, just enough to catch him out of the corner of her eye, her body language a little more tense as he hasn't just vacated yet.

When it comes to body language, there are certain things that Kal immediately and even unconsciously registers. None of these signals are positive in nature. That increase in tension stings and causes an involuntary shift in his own bearing, somewhat akin to a scolded dog. Those emotive, big brown eyes certainly lend to such imagery. "That you do," he murmurs with a faint nod, the sudden awkwardness of the moment lingering in the air. Discomfort leads to a deflated sense of bravado and a certain sadness that generally is successfully concealed by his facade of strutting ego. "Anyway… you've got stuff to do, so I'll let you get to it." Making his best attempt to brush off the feelings that come with feeling unwelcome, he begins his retreat. "You, uh… you have a safe trip. I'll see you when you get back." So not smooth, and he knows it, but he'll deal with that elsewhere.

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