BCH #003: The XO's Garter Detail
The XO's Garter Detail
Summary: A handful of Ensigns sneak away for cards and drink, only to be raided by a sneaky Petty Officer.
Date: 2041.02.23
Related Logs: None.
Damon Daphne Kulko Malone Marko Temperance Tisiphone 

Tisiphone has spent a lot of time trotting to and from the Hangar these past few weeks. First, it was to get her flight-suit refitted. Then, it was to get her callsign stencilled onto her helmet. Somewhere along the way, a snippet of conversation was overheard — mention of an entire hall of storage rooms still sitting empty, awaiting final cargo after the Cerberus' commissioning ceremony. This information sat in the back of her head, quietly percolating away, until it (de)formed itself into an idea. A fantastic idea.

Over the last handful of days, Tisiphone and Daphne have been bumping into every Ensign they could find, passing the word along. Storage Room B-314. Tuesday night. Bring your cards and the bottles the XO says we're not supposed to drink.

Tisiphone is first into the room, with a small canvas duffel slung over her shoulder. The hallway outside is dimly-lit with only maintenance lights, but in here the light is blindingly new. She's, ah, borrowed some folding chairs and tables from nearby sources, and the few storage crates already in the room's corners can serve double-duty as well.

Daphne's backside is pressed into one of those chairs. She's got the chair wedged back against a well-stocked shelf of… boxes, apparently. "Anyway, are you sure Lasher's alright? The guy's got an ego the size of Caprica City." She's casually shuffling a deck of triad cards. Her hair is let down, for a change. No band to maintain a ponytail and, if the evening goes as planned, sobriety's going out the window soon enough anyway, so the hair was going to get loose regardless.

Temperance walks in, still in her flightsuit, half zipped open in a sloppy way to her tank. She's got no cards, but there is a suspicious looking bulge in her jacket. "S'the shindig, yeah?" she asks quietly, glancing around nervously. By her accent, it's clear she's from Aerilon. She looks behind her quickly and sort of shuffles in. "Ensigns' n'all?"

Marko arrives hard on Temperance's heels, toting a small duffle bag and looking around the cargo bay curiously. "Sure hope so, it'd be embarrassing as hell to find the Admiral down here." he comments, setting his duffle down on the table where it clunks suspiciously.

Tisiphone is pulling items out of her own duffel — a small mountain of lemons and oranges, and a tied plastic bag of miscellaneous fresh fruit from the galley. It's only mildly squashed, honest. Plastic cups. The list goes on. She looks up sharply when the door opens, and relaxes again almost immediately, offering a toothy grin. "Hey," she says. "C'mon in. Tisiphone, and that's Daphne-" A jab of a thumb toward the card-shuffler.

Daphne has her stuff in a cardboard box, of all things, which is leaning against one of the table legs. She's hardly as dressed as Temperance, wearing sweats while she shuffles those cards. "I think we'd get airlocked if they caught us doing this…" Her grin is nice and wide, and she sets the triad cards onto the table to reach for that cardboard box. She waves to Temperance, "Hey. And that's Marko." She jabs a thumb to the man in question, "Never thought I'd be eager to hide from the military."

Once Temperance is sure this is the right place, she whips a bottle out of her jacket. "Miner's moonshine," she laughs, thunking it on the table as well. "Go' a couple a'bottles with me, savin' 'em fer m'first postin'. No better time'n now!" she crows, delighted. She gulps a bit when she sees the cards, but doesn't say anything. "Wha's th' fruit for? Temperance, b'the way."

"Heya, ladies." Marko smiles, giving a quick wave before opening his duffel. "I got some snack stuff." he says, digging out a medium sized tin of basic assorted bar munchies. "And this.." he says, pulling out a small bottle of very dark bown liquid. "Jamaeth, Caprica's idea of Taurian whiskey. Tastes better than it sounds, but it's on the strong side. Is this everyone?"

"Temperance," Tisiphone echoes, a touch thoughtfully, offering a quick bob of the head. "Hey. Good to meetcha. Seems like they were shipping folks up from planetside until the minute before we left dry-dock. Just when I think I know everyone, there's a new face." The miner's moonshine widens her grin. "Perfect," she says. "I've just got some fancy crap I grabbed on Picon when we graduated. Don't even know if it'll be any good."

"What's wrong, Temperance?" Daphne grins at the deck of triad cards on the table, "It's only 'being flat broke'. You'll get used to it. Oh…" She stops what she's doing and turns towards Marko with a laugh, "Jaaamaeth. That's an acquired taste. But it's really good. Actually an awful lot like classic Aerelon whiskey, though more refined and not as good. I love Jamaeth." She goes right back to her box and opens it to reveal… well, it's actually just peppermint schnapps, but there's three bottles of it, and that's what's important.

"Compared to the pricey stuff most of Delphi's so crazy about, it's considered pretty hardcore." Marko chuckles at Daphne's reaction. "Ah, Caprica, importers of the finest of the other Eleven Colonie's crazies for a thousand years."

Being a bit late, Malone comes in at this point, stepping through the door a bit quickly, before he blinks a few times at the lights. "Sorry that I'm late," he offers to those present, looking around for a little while.

"You were in the maneuvers the other night, weren't you?" says Tisiphone to Marko. "I'm remembering your voice." Oranges and lemons are dumped into a plastic tub. She sticks a little pocketknife into one of the top ones. She looks up and over at Malone, flashes another toothy grin and a beckoning wave. "Hey. We're just sharing our loot."

"Yep, I was right there watching you and Daphne make Shiv and Lasher want to tear their hair out." Marko chuckles, pulling a handful of individually wrapped plastic cups from his bag. "Courtesy of the Hotel Artemus." he grins. "They run a nice place, they really oughta stop leaving their supply cabinets unlocked." he adds. "Hey there, c'mon in and snag a cup." he says to Malone. "Marko Scaurus."

Temperance blinks, and then laughs at Daphne. "Ain't never played," she admits honestly. "Place'm from, took a awful hard line on gamblin'." She shrugs sheepishly, and sinks into a chair. She smiles wide at Marko, and waves. "There's th'very best ensign ECO in th'fleet!" she calls out with a laugh. To Tisi, she grins. "Me, too. Was flyin' 'im while he did his fanciness." She smiles at Malone, too, but he's an unfamiliar face, and this is a bad time for unfamiliar faces. She waits till other people recognize him to relax.

"Yeah, seriously. Caprica sort of borrows everyone else's stuff, waters it down a little, and then makes a big fuss out of the latest thing." Daphne bites her tongue, letting enough of it hang out for her to look like she's just up to no good, somehow. She goes back to shuffliung the deck. "That's him. He's the one who had that idea with the flares. They ended up calling him Flasher." She gestures to Marko with her pinkie finger, "You really lucked out. I'm surprised they didn't call you Tinkerbelle… and this really isn't very hard to play, Temperance. Maybe a little tricky until you know what's worth what, but it's not so bad. We can play for nothing, too." Malone gets a nod.

Tisiphone finally pulls out her own contribution to the night's revelry — some manner of fancy-pants booze, just like she said. It's an almost comically-tall bottle, with an overblown, ornate seal and the most intensely red-pink liquid seen outside of cheap sweet-and-sour sauce. 'Incarnados', the label says. She plunks it down on the table, then curses and starts patting her pockets down. There's a wax-sealed cork at the top of the bottle. "Yeah. Imagine if you were called something like, oh, 'Money Shot'," she mutters good-naturedly as she searches.

Malone nods a little bit as he hears that, stepping further into the room. "Tommy Malone," he introduces himself to those present. Listening to the conversation again a bit quietly now.

"We do do a few things right on Caprica." Marko adds, flicking his eyes to the bottle of Lords Know What Tisiphone has produced, over to Tis herself then back to the bottle. "No, no, Money…it's okay..it's…very pink." he nods, then chuckles softly. "You all do realize the XO can and will have our guts for garters, he finds out we showed up for duty hung over tomorrow?"

"That's easy," Tisiphone answers Marko. Sounding a little cocky, perhaps. "You had to've done inspection with a hangover at least one, yeah? Who in Hades is even going to find out? All they've got us doing are those damn imaginary maneuvers, anyway." Indeed. What could POSSIBLY happen? She finds a pocket corkscrew and, with a sound of triumph, starts to open her own bottle.

Temperance grins at Daphne. "Didn't mean I wouldn' play," she laughs. "An' playin' for money's fine. Ain't gonna bother me none. Jus' never did it afore, m'self." Tisiphone gets a sympathetic cringe. "I ain't even got a callsign yet," she says mournfully. "Pretty sure I ain't lookin' forward to it, neither." Looking around for a shot glass or two, she points to her own bottle. "Don't 'ave too much'a that, then," she counsels Marki with a grin. "You'll wish y'head could be peeled wide open the next day. Or three."

Curiosity killed the cat, they say. Damon's taking a short break to get himself cleaned up when he notices a suspicious Ensign walking near the hangar with an even more suspicious bulge in her flightsuit. She loses him quickly, but once something's gotten into Damon's mind, he doesn't let go easy - he starts searching through the rooms he has access to, ending up in front of Storage Room B-314 where he hears voices. Door opens… and… surprise! It's the Air Engineer Lead!

"If the XO didn't want the new guys to crack, then he shouldn't have ordered us to go dry. Now we have to sneak around like criminals." Daphne goes right back to shuffling the cards, and then stops to open one of her schnapps. "I don't have a callsign either. I'm not so sure I'm in a rush, either. Payback's an ugly bitch…" She stares right at Tisiphone and waves her fingers hello. "We'll be fine. Just don't be stupid about it and everything…" She stops what she's doing and peers at Damon, "Hi there!" Suspicion is everywhere in her voice.

"Carefully," comes Malone's reply to Marko, before he nods at Temperance. "Well, it can be fun, though," he offers, before he adds, "And if you think it can't get worse, it probably can." Turning slightly as the door opens, he blinks as he sees who it is. "Ah…" he mutters.

Tisiphone pops the cork out of the Incarnados bottle with a loud BORK! and holds it a small distance away from her. This stuff is new to her. It might foam. Or spark. You can't be too sure. She's just brought it in for a cautious first sniff when the door opens to reveal Damon. That's not one of the Ensigns she spoke to. A quick, questioning, sidelong glance to Daphne. Oh, shit.

"I'm doing what I can to see if 'Sully' will stick." Marko replies, deciding to sample a little of Tis' pink juice of unending doom. "Ah, just ignore me. I've been playing 'the good boy' so long now, it's hard to remember how to stop sometimes." Fortunately, Damon's arrival prevents him from actually pouring a glass.

"Yeah, Sully wouldn't be so - " Temperance starts, but then. When Damon enters, it looks like she's swallowed something really nasty. There is NO way they can hide all this booze. "Uhhhh…hey!" she calls out fast, trying her best to appear chipper. "Thought we'd do some cleanin' up back here, an' look what we found! Ain't that the craziest thing?! Someone's hidin' booze in 'ere!" Sweet, innocent smile. Big, wide eyes. Nothing wrong with this picture.

Wide-eyed, grinning, and stunned - that's the first look of Damon that the room gets as he stands blinking in the doorway. "Hi… there," he answers, adding hesitantly after a pause, "Sirs." As Temperance tries to explain the bottles away, the Petty Officer's grin tightens. Maybe he's amused - or far to the contrary. But he doesn't comment on the scene before him at all. He just… stands there.

"So-o-o…" Tisiphone drawls, very slowly, looking back to Damon as the waves of 'oh frak' crash all around her. "Are you gonna keep standing there, or are you gonna come in, give us yer name, and have a gods-be-damned drink with us?" Her pale eyes aren't so much unfriendly as hyper-intent. There's a mind buzzing at full tilt behind them, desperately trying to figure out how to keep them all from serving XO's garter detail.

Daphne, to her credit, doesn't have a heart attack right there in the chair. Her heart doesn't rupture, she doesn't suffer a brain aneurysm, or an epileptic seizure. She does need a moment to decide what to do. Since if the jig is up, it isn't likely to be any less up by anything she does, she goes back to shuffling the triad deck. "Seriously. Close the door. You're letting all the cold out." There isn't any cold.

Marko takes a deep breath, glances at Temperance and then just shakes his head, chuckling throatily. "Okay, I've heard a lot of really _baaad_ lies in my time, but that one, I think, takes the gold medal." he snickers. "C'mon in, Petty Officer, and yeah, close the hatch before anyone else gets curious."

Malone pauses a bit as he watches Damon for now. Not saying anything yet, just waiting for this to happen, however it will happen now.

Damon glances back at the door, to the room, to the door, then back to the room. "Ah frak," he says, a nervous kind of chuckle in his voice. With the tip of his boot, he nudges the hatch closed and saunters over to the table. "If I'm gonna get tossed in the brig again, I might as well make it a good one, hey?" His eyes light with his characteristic wry grin. "Petty Officer First Class Damon, for when the Deck Chief asks who he's gotta hang."

Temperance looks caught in the headlights for a moment, and then makes a SURPRISE face, like you would at a birthday party. "Guess you're stuck w'us now!" she calls out with a laugh. Sticking out her tongue at Marko, she snickers. "Least I tried somethin'!" she smirks. "Shots!" she yells, pulling all the way out of the top of her flight suit, so she's peeled out down to her waist. "Let's get good'n gone, so's if th'next to come in's somebody bad, we'll all be too far gone'ta care!"

Malone offers a bit of a grin to Damon at that, "We'll try to remember that," he offers, with a bit of a grin, "Not sure if we'll succeed, though. But we will try." A bit of a grin for now.

Tisiphone shoots another sidelong glance to Daphne, then lets out a long sigh. The grin starts edging its way back. Situation averted, it seems. "Damon," she echoes. "Hey. I've heard the Chief yell already. I wouldn't want to be on his shit list either." She gives her bottle of bright red Mystery Booze another sniff, then sets it down the second Temperance starts talking about shots. "Yes. I need a warm-up before I try this crap," she says, looking warily at the bottle. There's shot-glasses — or something resembling them — around here somewhere.

"Heh, no worries, First. The only hangings planned for this op are hangovers, and they're easy enough to beat." Marko smiles, finding a chair and pushing it towards the older man. "So is all this prep work driving the deck gang as crazy as the air wing?" he asks, snagging a chair of his own.

Damon takes a chair, turning it sideways so he can lean his elbow on the backrest. "I'll drink to that," he says to Temperance's sentiment, raising an imaginary shotglass in tribute. His voice still carries a bit of a hesitant edge, like he's not quite sure if this whole thing is some kind of elaborate set-up. "Well, sir," he says to Marko, "I don't mean this as a complaint or nothing, but we got most of the Deck workin' on their off-hours as well. Eighteen, twenty-hour days are regular fare for me now. And not a drink in sight to wind down with!"

Daphne visibly relaxes a bit once Damon doesn't appear ready to sell them out. She responds with a laugh, listening to Damon, "This QUODEL thing makes the no-booze requirement such a load of crap, because if the XO himself isn't getting plastered from all the stress he's under, then he's not someone the Navy should trust as number two of a ship this big in the first place."

While Temperance waits for Tisi to find shot glasses, she eyes Damon. She's not entirely sure /he's/ not a setup, either. "Do we 'ave games set up tomorrow?" she asks suddenly, with a grin. "I'm thinkin' first one to lose it in zero G's does the washin' for a week." A beat. "Course, boyo here ain't gonna be out there. I'm thinkin' if he can't outdrink us tonight, he brings breakfast in th'mornin'!"

"Oi," says Tisiphone, glancing at Damon. "No 'sir's. It's all we do all frakking day. Can't be any better for you." An abrupt bark of wry laughter. "Easier than remembering our names, though." There is that. The shot-glasses have vanished, so Marko's appropriated hotel-cups have been pressed into service; she counts out one for each of the Ensigns, another for The Intruder, and arranges them in front of Temperance. "So, is there a toast that goes along with this stuff?" she asks.

Malone relaxes a bit now, as he looks between the others, and over at the cups for now. Pausing for a few moments at the mention of a toast.

"Bring breakfast?" Damon echoes, mischief shining in his eyes. "I'll cook breakfast for the champion of the night." He rests his chin on his bicep slowly tipping the chair in the direction that he's leaning. He nods at Tisiphone's words, and reflexively answers with an, "Aye, sir." Clearing his throat, he waves away those words. "I mean… understood." He watches eagerly as cups are arranged. As for the toast, he stays silent, waiting for suggestions.

"Eh….I got nothin'." Marko shrugs, reaching over to snag a cup. "Someone else'll have to come up with something."

Kulko slips through the hatch in off-duty fatigues, checking behind him as if concerned he might have been followed. Forget that the scuttlebutt's been all over the ship, and surely some ensign, somewhere, must have let the location slip. That's none of Kulko's concern. He aims to preserve the secret. "Howdy, y'all," he greets the room of complete strangers.

Daphne grins, and raises her shotglass, "Oh, that's easy. My dad's been over this a million times. Here's to us! None like us. More's the pity." And then she tilts it back.

Temperance winks at Damon and stretches. "That'll be hashbrowns, over easy eggs, an' toast w'bacon," she crows. "Sausages, too," she adds a moment later with a laugh. "I'm feelin' brave." Her attention goes back to the inebriation at hand and she nods to Tisi. Snagging her bottle off the table with a flourish, she pours each hotel cup about half full. Reaching out for her own, she looks at everyone solemly and intones, "May your candles ne'er go out, your birds always sing, an' your light always show you th' way home." And back it goes, like liquid fire. Miners are serious moonshiners, people.

"Heh, 'May Hermes guide your steps, and keep the PD stupid." he offers, snagging a cup and downing its contents, which has the effect of rendering him temporarily speechless as Temperance's moonshine gives him the liquid equivalent of an upper GI exam.

"I'll be sure to remember that order so you can make it for me tomorrow," Damon says to Temperance, accepting the challenge and the brag. Can't have a contest without good brag! "I'll take mine for the knuckledraggers," he says, raising his cup. "Keepin' the birds flyin'." Down the hatch she goes! And what a burn it is. Damon takes it without choking or coughing, but his eyes do water up at the unexpected harshness of the liquor.

Tisiphone doesn't say anything in response, but her grin widens and even warms a bit. Gods forbid, she may just be happy. She lifts her mock-shotglass to Temperance's toast, looks around to her comrades, and knocks the liquid back. "Mmmh-!" she says, then, breathing out hard through her nose. There might be a flicker of air distortion from the fumes.

Taking his cup as he raises it. "To all of us, and the ship, and all that, I guess," he offers, before he makes sure the evidence is hidden in case someone should step in. The liquid evidence, that is, going down into his system. "Good…" he begins, afterwards.

Temperance makes a face at Damon. "Iffn' you win, I do your laundry. I win, you bring the food." She beams around at everybody and gigglefits a bit at their reactions. "Good stuff!" she announces. "Let's 'ave somethin' sweet next, eh?" About then she notices Kuko and she salutes him in the air with her cup. "Missed first round!" she calls with a grin. "Come sit down'n get caught up!"

"Here, let's try this crap," says Tisiphone, reaching for her own bottle. /There's/ a ringing endorsement. It's in some tall, pretentious bottle, and looks to have had a wax-sealed cork — the sort of bottle with a label that might mention 'hand-turned' and 'artisan' — and the liquid within is an intense red-pink. "Incarnados," she reads. "Meant for sipping. Shots are like sipping, right?" A grin and a glance around.

Kulko lifts two fingers to his temple in response, giving Temperance a grateful smile and relaxing his posture somewhat. "Don't hafta tell me twice." From behind his back he reveals a half-filled bottle of deep mahogany liquid, which he deposits on the table before settling in. "I'll add this to the queue… hope y'all are alright with sour mash."

"Heh, sort of. It's just a lot bigger sip." Marko shrugs. "oooh…Sour Mash…You've got my attention…." he says to Kulko, obviously not able to conjure a name to match the face. "Hey, does anyone here know anything about some sort of big fire in the mess hall?" he asks.

"I like that thought, just a lot bigger sip," Malone offers, with a bit of a smile. Turning to offer a bit of a nod to Kulko, adding a grin.

Tisiphone doesn't bother pulling out clean glasses. She just collects the previous ones — assuming the moonshine didn't burn a hole clear through the bottom — and lines them up in front of her. They're probably not in the same order. As she starts filling the glasses, she looks over at Kulko and says with a grin, "Sounds great. We'll need something better after this stuff. Smells like…" Her nose wrinkles. "Sawdust?" That can't be possible, can it?

"In the mess hall?" Temperance asks, eyeshifting slightly. "Nooo. What's that stuff supposed ta be, Tisiphone?" she asks, quickly changing the subject. "Like a kinda wine? Or like…sawdust brew?" She grins. Not being avoidant here, no. Not at all. "What's the fruit goin' with? We got tequila? Maybe salt?" Chitter chatter.

"A little taste of home?" Kulko grins back to the pilot, before rotating eye contact around the table. "Don't think I've had the benefit of a proper introduction. Name's Stephen Kulko - just graduated last May, been stuck at Scorpion shipyards since then. Pleasure to make y'alls acquaintance." He bows his head briefly.

"Flasher." Marko says, offering his hand to Kulko. "Or Scarus, or 'Hey you', whichever." he smirks as he picks up a cup of Tis' pink death and sniffs at it. "Yeah, something about a barbeque or some such. Probably had something to do with the commissioning ceremony?" he asks, shrugging a little. "I've heard bits and pieces of the story, but never a chance to really hear what happened."

"'An exotic full-grain beverage,'" Tisiphone reads off the label, with many an accompanying eyeroll. "'Amaranth liquor with hints of smoke and spice.' Well." Tisiphone eyes up the glasses as she slides them around, each with a splash of the somewhat syrupy, unnaturally-coloured drink. "That tells us precisely frakking nothing."

"Tommy Malone," Malone introduces himself to Kulko, before he adds, "Or Splash." Unable to hold back a bit of a chuckle at Tisiphone, "'Exotic' sounds just about right," he offers.

Daphne, who has been here the entire time, swirls whatever's in her glass, shaking her hand from side to side to make a miniature whirlpool. She nods to Kulko, "Daphne Kolettis. It's cool to see someone around who doesn't eat, sleep, or dream strike craft. Can you believe the size of this ship?"

Kulko takes the cup as it slides towards him, nodding solemnly. "Gods, yes. Saw it from the Raptor on the way in. I don't know whose puppy I saved in a past life to deserve this post straight out of CFA, but I ain't complainin'." He pauses a moment, again looking between the other ensigns assembled. "Now wait just a damn minute, Ms. Kolettis. How'd you know I weren't a flyboy? Are you all Air Wing?" The look on his face is downright incredulous.

Damon stays silent as he recovers from the first shot, blinking rapidly to clear up his teary eyes. Temperance is not gonna get a chance to see a single tear escape, no sir, not on the first drink. The conversation of the Ensigns apparently amuses him as he listens in turn, trying to catch their names since 'sir' has been outruled for the night. "I'm just a lowly knuckledragger," he offers helpfully to Kulko. He picks up the cup that's slid over to him and takes a whiff of it first this time.

The Incarnados might smell exotically of amaranth, smoke and spice to someone with a finely-tuned palate. According to Tisiphone, who brings the glass up for a wary sniff: "This smells like sawdust in an incense store. And…sugar." To stall while she figures out a toast for this round of drinks, she looks to Kulko and gives him an unapologetic grin. "All but one. Sorry, man. Welcome to flyboy country."

"Heh, guilty as charged, excepting PO1 Damon here." Marko adds, growing weary of trying to use his mental powers to gain any insight as to its flavor and taking his own little experimental nip. "Not bad, Money, not great, but not bad…If I were sixteen and female, I'd love it, no doubt." he smirks.

"Alright, someone else's turn ta toast!" Temperance says, yoinking her cup off the table and eyeing it. "I got an idea…let's all toast th'callsigns we woulda given ourselves." She grins at the two boys there without their wings. "An' you can tell us what your middle names are," she says with a evil little smile.

Malone gets hold of his cup again as well, shaking his head a bit lightly at Temperance. "Good one," he offers, although he doesn't mention the middle name yet. Looking to the liquid in the cup. Hmm.

"We're all lowly knuckledraggers." notes Daphne with a smile. "They expect more from you than from us, though they'll insist otherwise." She notes to Kulko, "You said you were straight out of CFA, so you didn't do flight school. Congrats on fleet academy, by the way. I did Virgon a couple years ago. I thought it was the nastiest thing I'd ever seen. Then I did flight school and thought -that- was the nastiest thing I'd ever seen. Then I got into active duty and I'm starting to notice a pattern here."

"Elementary, my dear Kulko," Stephen replies in his best faux-Caprican accent. Which isn't particularly good. "You got me - I pass my days starin' at a DRADIS screen or tryna' make six different intel reports make sense on a map." He swirls the cup a bit, then knocks it back; his face suggests what he's too polite to say outright. "Good to put faces to voices, though. Up there in CIC your imagination can run wild if you've never met the pilot you're listenin' to."

Tisiphone's eyebrows shoot a little up her brow at Temperance's suggestion, her grin smoothing as her expression goes thoughtful. "Hunh," she says. A glance back at the reddish-pink syrup in her glass. "Okay. I'll go. Here's to Tisiphone 'Eris' Apostolos. Gone but not forgotten." She lifts her glass to her drinking buddies, and knocks it back.

Damon toasts Daphne, inclining his head to acknowledge her words with an ironic twist to his lips. He announces his middle name, "Leander," and takes the second drink after tapping it against the table. "Eugh," he grunts, smacking his lips after swallowing the stuff; he rubs his beard as if trying to groom the bad taste out of himself. "All right, it can only get better from here, I suppose," he chuckles, licking at his lips. Apparently this drink doesn't agree with him much either. "After all, gotta earn that clean laundry." This, with a wink to Temperance as he waggles his cup in her direction.

"Eyeball." Marko pronounces, then gulps down his shot. "Did I say it wasn't bad?" he says, pulling a face. "I was wrong…Money, where in the frak did you find that stuff?" he asks, beginning to blink rapidly. "Shit…I think I'm seeing spots…Is anyone else here seeing spots?"

"Laux," Kulko adds on his middle name as an afterthought, pronounced 'law'. He sets down his cup and eyes the bottle of whiskey. "Don't suppose we'd have any way to wash these out first?"

Daphne laughs out loud at the new proposed game. She looks at what's in her glass, and then tilts it all the way back. It doesn't go down smooth, either. She sputters and coughs, holding up a finger to bear with her, and then regains her stride with a grin. "Daphne 'Rogue' Kolettis. 'Eris' knows why. Holy frak, Money. What is this? Did you grab this out of a tyllium drum?"

Coughing a bit as he drains his shot. "Oh, what a…" The rest is drowned now in more coughing. After a few moments he's recovered enough to offer a bit of a grin. "Thomas Edward Malone," he offers, after a few moments of pause.

Temperance sticks her tongue right back out at Damon, and lifts her cup in the air. "Here's to what woulda been me, Temperance 'Hot Stuff' O'Sullivan. Cuz I never get ta be the hot one, I'm always the momma." She drinks hers down warily, after everyone else's reactions, but when she's done, she grins. "That was delicious," she announces with a simper Damon's way. "Don't wash th' cups out! All goin' ta the same place."

Tisiphone swallows, and immediately looks like she just swallowed…well, bright reddish-pink essence of burning floral shoppe, much like she just inflicted on everyone else. She bursts out coughing, starting to laugh at the same time as the much-deserved abuse rolls in. "They- oh, frak- recommended it!" she wheezes. "Frakking Picon. I'm giving this to the Chief for de-icing the Raptors."

Kulko gives Temperance a Look, then shrugs and uncorks the bottle. "I'm one behind y'all, so I hope nobody minds if I make this one a double. This is from a good friend of my granddad, from the grains right through the still." He starts to pour the next round, musing almost to himself, "Oughtta ask him to send along another bottle or three to meet us at our next port."

"Do you remember who they were?" Marko asks. "I mean, did you buy it from a store, or from some big red guy with big black horns that appeared in a puff of smoke and flame? I'm not frakkin' around about the spots, people. I am actually seeing spots here…And I'm not sure of it, but I think the God of the Underworld just got a line of credit on my soul…"

"You're insane," Damon replies to Temperance, matter-of-factly. "Didn't they do any kind of psychological screening when you all entered the Fleet?" Shaking his head, he slides his cup back over for the next round. Even with just two drinks in him, he's starting to relax a lot more, his shoulders visibly loosening up their tension and his posture becoming more natural. "The God of the Underworld'll have to get in line - I think the Admiral's got first dibs on your soul."

Daphne opens her mouth to speak, but ends up just showing teeth and a wry grin. "I don't think I'm seeing Hades. Yet." She gives it another moment, and then grins to herself, "I need more of this stuff. Forget taking the edge off. This will take an entire -side- off. And of course they do psychological screening. How do you suppose you get accepted to flight school?" Her tone, of course, does nothing to discourage the idea that Temperance is not, in fact, insane.

Tisiphone starts looking a bit shifty at Marko's insinuation, eyes darting this way and that. At first it may seem genuine, but she can't hold the act for long, giving a weak chuckle as she scrubs self-consciously at her bare scalp. "Duty-Free Store," she finally admits. Mumbling. She tucks it in right after Daphne's comment, seeming to hope the confession will get lost in the flow of conversation.

"Heh, in the Great List of Mythic Creatures all Air Crew Needs Must Fear, the Old Man's got a serious rival - the CAG!" Marko chuckles, beginning to loosen up for reals now. "She'll have one of us slaughtered, butchered, seasoned and spit roasted before the Admiral'd even hear the dinner bell ring." he nods, eyes wide with mock terror. "Duty free, hey?" he adds, unable to resist picking at Tis. "Yeah, duty free describes it, to the Articles of Athena and the morals of mankind." he adds, tossing in a very playful wink to make sure Tis knows he's only frakking with her.

Temperance laughs at Marko, complete with nosecrinkle. "Well, he better not get your skills," she remarks with a smile, "'Cause you are Mr. ECO To Watch at th' moment, my friend!" Glancing to Kulko, she asks, "What 'zactly is sour mash, anyway?"

"They've got a flawless psych exam," Kulko notes, passing the bottle around the table, clockwise. "Sanity stays shipside, the rest of y'all they stick in a tube and shoot out into space." He leans back in the chair. "The 'mash' is the boiled bits of barley and malt that go through the still. Sour mash means you use the stuff left at the bottom once you're done to start the next batch. And so on, and so on."

<Tisiphone's player lost link here. Log continues courtesy of Temperance's player.>

Malone stays silent for now, listening with a bit of a grin to the others now.

"Oh brother. The CAG. OooooooooOOOOoooh." Daphne snorts loudly while pouring herself another shot of whatever that STUFF was. "The CAG's so terrified that her pilots are going to make her the one who goes down in history as the person who made the Navy lose funding that she can't wait to find people to prop up. Only reason to fear her is if you're really bad. She's putting attention on people who excel, not people who don't."

"Sounds about right," Damon says, chuckling at Kulko's description of a pilot's life. He leans his chair over to the side again, tipping precariously on the balancing edge. As the pilots begin talking about the CAG, he falls silent again and listens. The talk is always different on every ship, and he hasn't had the opportunity to mouth off with the pilots of this ship yet. Hell, he hasn't even seen most of them outside of the brief few moments when they board their birds on the deck and get off of them when they return.

"Thanks for that Sully." Marko says nodding and making sure to put his glass within pouring range of Kulko's sour mash. "Just going on what my Section Lead said at flight school when he told me where I'd been assigned, Kolettis. Apparently, Jugs has a reputation for not taking a lot of shit off stupid people." he smirks. "As an Ensign, I qualify as the latter, according to him."

It's Kulko's turn to fall silent, now, as he finishes pouring out the round and soaks up the scuttlebutt.

"I get that sort of impression too." Daphne grins sarcastically at her shotglass. "I mean about us qualifying as idiots. I got here all proud of my shiny ensign badge but I don't feel -quite- so shiny anymore. I think they're making that point pretty quickly, but the idea still has merit. She's under an enormous amount of stress."

"Yeah..I know exactly how you feel, Kolettis." Marko nods. "But, look at it from this perspective, we don't have to spend most of our duty time in CIC where the really scary monsters live." he says, inclining his head in Kulko's direction. "That would be _craaazy_." he chuckles

Kulko raises his glass. "The really scary monsters are makin' damn sure I know just how fresh an ensign I am."

"To waking up in the brig after we pass out and get found by the morning shift." Daphne grins toothily, and then downs the dubious contents of her shotglass again. She coughs and widens her eyes a bit.

Damon pours himself a good amount as the bottle makes its way around the table and passes it off to the next person beside him. As Daphne toasts, he slams it back - this one appears to agree with him the most out of all of the drinks they've had so far. Aside from scrunching half his face - which seems more of an anticipatory action than a reaction to the taste - he's doing fine. "Don't worry," he says, "I'll load you all up on creepers an' cart you back to… somewhere."

Marko snerks. "Okay, where's this from, Kulko?" he asks, picking up his glass and giving its contents a long, affectionate sniff before slamming it back. "Oh yes…that's the stuff." he nods, tapping the tabletop happily. "Heh, Damon, I think I speak for all of us when I say if you can help us not get busted, we'll make sure you get something nice for Equinox."

"To jailbreaks and hangovers," Kulko echoes, downing his whiskey, and shaking his head quickly right after. "Y'all keep your voices down on the comms tomorrow; don't need the headache giving me away. Though how y'all expect to fly is beyond me."

Daphne shivers as whatever that stuff was basically mauls her insides. "I should've done this in my uniform. I might not have the braincells left to dress myself when I wake up tomorrow morning." She shakes her head, "Yeah. I'm cutting myself off before I get in trouble for real."

"The only present I need is for pilots to take softer landings once in a while," Damon retorts to Marko with a good-natured smile. "Cut the time for the Deck crew workin' on the skids, and less wear-and-tear on the birds. Everybody wins." As Daphne declares that she's cutting herself off, the PO grunts in disapproval. "Never mix drinking with common sense, hey? In for the shot, in for the bottle!" Peer pressure!

Kulko grins Marko's way. "Friend of my granddad makes it, back home. An' hell, just cause I said I was gonna regret it, don't mean I'm gonna stop. Keep em comin."

"Ah…flying…Well, Kulko.." Marko begins, then pauses to snerk. "I almost called you Kulkis for a second there…Gosh, No, sir, Cap'n Quinn, sir,…I haven't been drinking. I hear there's a ban on that sorta thing." he laughs. "Anyhow…there's a trick to it. It's called 'bribe a midrats cook to get you a baked potato'.Shh.."

Daphne snorts loudly, an extended noise made longer mostly due to the alcohol she's already had. The ensign's obviously a little drunk. "No, no. I'm so nervous in the cockpit already. Last thing I need is to be nervous and hung over. I'll puke right in my flight helmet." She slowly gets to her feet. "I'm going to pack up my stuff and try to pretend that I'm not ready to trip over myself, guys. Just… don't stay up too late or someone's really going to get into trouble."

Kulko leans his chair back on two legs, waggling the bottle Daphne's way. "Thought this whole get-together was your idea, Ms. Kolettis? One more for the road won't kill ya."

Damon holds out his cup and rattles the bottom of it against the table. "Keep the honey flowin', hey?" He looks around for the next bottle to pick up. "If we get too far gone, I can always declare a handful of birds suddenly and inexplicably non-serviceable." A wide grin is offered with that.

"Resist the temptation, Kolettis! Resist!" Marko calls, making all manner of weird quasi-religious hand gestures. "Walk not the path of unrighteousness…" he intones. "You hath not the shoes for it!"

Daphne smirks with a hint of wariness, "Mine and Tisiphone's. More hers than mine. Take it easy, guys. I'm going to see if I can sleep this off." She heads for the door, crouches like she thinks she's some sort of super ninja, and slides it open a crack.

Damon's hand wanders vaguely in the direction of his forehead as Daphne heads off. It's supposed to be a salute, but what with him tilted sideways in the chair and leaning on his elbow on top of it, it's probably the second-most unprofessional salute ever given in the history of the Fleet. But only because he's still wearing pants.

"Safe travels home, then, Ensign." Kulko settles his seat back onto four legs and pours another round for those remaining at the table. "Here's to us, then, Ensigns. Age before beauty."

"Ya know, if I were a better man, I would walk Kolettis back to her berthing area." Marko muses, peering at the hatch. But…well, guess I'm not a better man." he smirks then nods as Kulko makes his toast, snagging the cup nearest to him. "So say we all."

"Andpettyofficerfirstclass," Damon appends quickly to Kulko's toast for Ensigns. Tap the table, down the hatch. "So…" Slight cough, mouthwipe. "…say we all." A happy noise of satisfaction escapes his lips as the last shot goes down in all its warmth. "I know it hasn't been that long, but… damn, that hits the spot."

<Fade. Players were falling asleep at the keys. So sad.>

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