AWD #388: Food is Overrated
Food is Overrated
Summary: Things were hard on Tauron
Date: 14/07/2016
Related Logs: None
Niamh Toby 
Naval Enlisted Berthings - Deck 3 - Battlestar Orion
Housing a couple thousand naval personnel is never easy, but the fleet has managed for many decades. The enlisted barracks are divided up into sixty-bunk berthings and spread out across Deck Three. Each bunk has a small blue privacy curtain to keep out the light and prying eyes, but at least each individual has their own space. The drawers beneath each bunk and the lockers provide additional storage space. Between each stack of bunks is a single table that comprises a single section, each barracks holding five sections that are divided by thin bulkheads.
AWD #388

It's good to be off shift! Foregoing food in favour of the comparative privacy of her bunk, Niamh is currently rifling through her locker, emptying her pockets and divesting herself of her orange coveralls, emptying the pockets into various self-made compartments within the confines of her locker, which is freakishly neat by anyone's standards. Clothes are folded perfectly, literally and there's not a single thing out of place. She's mumbling under her breath, broken up by the occasional offkey humming as her gloved hands obsessively straighten and put away and rearrange things.

With Toby and Niamh being on the same shift at the moment it likely comes as no surprise that he's off shift too. As circumstances would have it, he's also forgone food for now, but he opted for a shower, as is apparent by the towel slung over his shoulder, the dampness still present in his hair, and a marked reduction in the smell of tylium and sweat. Threading his way through the bunks to his own he gives Niamh a quick nod, then proceeds to ditch his dirty stuff in what is clearly a laundry pile before hanging his towel so it can dry. "Not hungry?" he asks, more conversationally than really wanting to know the answer, "queues likely huge anyway."

«Food….» Niamh blinks as the familiar voice pulls her from her thoughts and she blinks, then turns sharply, bumping her head against her locker door as she does. The scrawny redhead doesn't even flinch as she focuses on Toby and blinks at him again. "Oh… right. Food's overrated. It's inconvenient. All that time spent standing in line and waiting around, and then having to actually expend energy to chew and swallow." She wrinkles her nose. «Necessary evil, granted. I'll wait a bit.» One shoulder lifts in a shrug and she turns back to her locker, shrugging out of her coveralls, leaving her clad in not-quite standard issue underclothes consisting of a longsleeved tshirt and long leggings. "I need to shower anyway, before food, and you wouldn't believe how long it takes to clean all this," Switching back and forth between her native language and Standard, a gloved hand waves vaguely at the mass of hair that's threatening to escape it's bindings.

Toby slips into their shared native tongue as well, but he seems to have a better grip on staying there. «It's might not be the gourmet, but frak it, three a day and mid-rats is more than I could ever guarantee before the war, so I'm not going to complain too hard.» Sitting on the edge of his bunk and de-booting he eyes Niamh's hair a moment and notes, «Gregson has some clippers and can deal with that for you if you want, works for me, doesn't get caught in your helmet either.» See, practical advice.

Niamh gives Toby a sidelong squinty-eyed look, and wrinkles her nose at him. «Thought about it more than once.» She admits, tugging on a strand, «Mom always called it my 'crowning glory'… whatever that means. It's a tie to her. I guess. I don't know. It's stupid.» Niamh gives a cheerful laugh and shakes her head, «Working for my foster-dad, I was lucky to get one meal a day. Guess that's why food's not a big deal for me. I think he thought if I was allowed to stop for meals I'd lose concentration and break something.» The redhead laughs again and shrugs as she slowly folds her not-too dirty uniform, fingers carefully flicking and brushing away any excess dirt, under her breath mumbling about laundry tomorrow.

Toby merely shrugs once in response, but accepts the reply as it is an digs no further, everyone has their own links to the past after all. Making no reference to his own family he then nods faintly at her remark about work and notes, «sometimes I could afford to eat, sometimes not, depends if I had work or not. So I appreciate it now.» With his feet now free he sprawls out on his bunk and relaxes, «might head over in twenty or so, once the line's had a chance to shorten.»

Putting away her uniform, Niamh pulls out a towel and throws a look in the direction of the head, «Looks like it's eased off in there, too.» Settling the towel over her shoulder, she pulls out a set of off-duty sweats and a bag of toiletries. «Might even get done in time to see you in the Mess.» Giving him a cheerful grin, she closes her locker and heads off down the narrow aisle, and actually only manages to trip once - at least while she's still in sight.

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