PWD #24: Improvisational Laundry Stylings
Improvisational Laundry Stylings
Summary: Wash is done. Lennox's beauty sleep is interrupted.
Date: 11/12/2012 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: Not particularly
Ceres Lennox Phin 
Laundry — Deck 2 — Battlestar Orion
Aboard a battlestar everyone except Command Staff does their own laundry, from ranking officers down to the lowest enlisted. This is one of many rooms just like this throughout the ship, and each one is nearly identical. There are baskets for holding clothes when they are pulled from the dryer and long tables for folding that run down the center of the room. Chairs sit along one wall and some magazines are stacked on a small book shelf near the door.
December 11, 2004 (PWD #24)

At least one washer spins in the relative quiet of the laundry. Seems only one pilot is currently sloshing her personal belongings around in the machines. At least, that's what it looks like. There's a little blonde pilot back there in the corner, all decked out in off-duties, leaned back in a chair and slouched over drooling on her own shoulder. If not for the lack of beer bottles plastic cups, it might seem like a crash-out from some kind of party.

Lugging her own bag of laundry in a worn old military sack, Redux grins towards Phin. "So, Doll is sticking then, eh?" She murmurs, not yet noticing the drooling form of the little bus pilot yet. She flops her bag dwn heavily onto one of the tables, making it screech loudly over the din of running machines. "Could be worse to be honest…" Her voice trails off and then her eyes flicker up, looking towards Lennox upon spying her. "Got sims scheduled for Talkshow, you and I tomorrow, still up for it?" She begins to yank out her clothes, throwing them into one of the industrial machines.

Phin lets out a short "Heh" as he follows Ceres into the laundry room. "Guess so. I've been called worse, I guess. I still haven't properly 'thanked' Peacock for that. And yeah. I'll be there right…on…time." On cue at the end of that sentence, hefts his duffel bag and pitches it toward a washing machine. The intention plainly to land it on top of the thing. The throw's a little short. So it bounces off the edge of the machine and thuds on the floor. Some military-issue clothing is spilled in the process. Phin winces. "My targeting's better with a cannon. I swear." He hasn't spotted sleeping Lennox yet, busy failing at showing off his duffel-throwing skills as he is.

Lola awakes with a snort, jerking upright out of her lean with a, "Never better," magazine flying off of her lap to smack loudly against the deck. Wait, what? Oh, right. Sleeping pilots wake confused. At least it wasn't a denial of guilt of some kind. That might prompt questions. The blonde ensign blinks a couple of times, then reaches up to wipe a hand over her face. Whether it was the first screech or the last thump that woke her isn't clear. Hey, at least she didn't sleep through that like a catatonic lump. "Ung." That's her thought on the entire exchange/life in general.

A quirk of a smile threatens to become more at the mention of Peacock. "I am sure you will find a great way to thank him." Ceres watches that bag land short of its mark, a brow lifting as she looks from between it and Phin. "Its a good thing we got sim time in." More clothes are added to her chosen washer, moving through the duffle with a practiced fishing method that says she may be used to losing things to the bag of laundry on occasion. Its a prescreening toss before the bag goes in to and Lola is watched, amusement evident in Redux's dark gaze even as she asks, "Pleasant dreams?"

Phin pops open the lid of a machine before he starts picking up his clothes. He can just feed them directly in. Time saver. The 'Never better' makes him turn his head abruptly. Oh, there's Lennox. He cracks a grin, but he manages not to chuckle. "Sorry," he says, maybe assuming the thumping he caused is what woke her.

Lola rubs her other hand over her face, going for a twofer. Maybe she's just that far ensconced in dreamyland. "S'good. S'fine." At the chatter of sims, she says, "They get that other pod up and running yet?" At least Phin knows of what she speaks, as it was his ride that crapped out on the last sim night. She pauses in her face-rubbing, perhaps finally noticing the drool string across her chin. She wipes at that with a frown. Blargh.

Amusement still curls the Captain's lips as she lets the lid of her washer close with a resounding bang, rocking back on her heels and turning. She presse her palm into the outter edge of her washer and then takes up a place, resting her hip so that she can look towards Lennox and her slow to wake process. "I know laundry can be boring, but not sure this would be the best place to pass out." Considering how public it can be.

Phin manages not to look amused. Ensign solidarity and all that. He tries to do more laundry-tossing tricks, involving flinging his clothes up into the air and into the open machine. After the fourth time he misses, he gives up and just starts stuffing things in. "Better than the rec room," he says. A pause and he adds, "The CO came in while I was…uh, kind of napping in there. He woke me up. Like…personally."

Lola finishes rubbing her face, as it seems she's finally come awake enough to retrieve her magazine and sit fully upright. She sweeps the pages off the deck with a crinkle of paper. "It's warm in here," she says. "Too warm, I guess." Her gaze shoots to Phin. "Oh gods." Wakey wakey by the CO seems to horrify the ensign.

A quick glance to Phin and Ceres considers his run in. Stretching a moment, a yawn parts her lips and she scratches at the back of her neck. "I heard the old man is craggy, old, but a good guy, laid back. Bed he didn't bust your chops for it." The Captain checks the settings of the washer and eyes it carefully as it rumbles off kilter for a brief second.

Phin exchanges a look with Lennox, chuckling. He can, at least, laugh about it now. With the CO far, far away. "He's even craggier when he's, like, right in your face. Nah. I didn't get in trouble or anything. I think he was just trying to spook me. And…give everybody else a laugh. It is warm in here." He finally manages to cram all his laundry into his chosen machine. He is not, apparently, a believer in separating. "The noise of the machines didn't get to you?" If anything, he seems to find this ability to tune them out semi-admirable.

Lola rises, apparently aware that her washer has shut off. She must have missed the buzzer in all the drool. She shoves herself toward the machine, barely swerving. Must be awake now, at least mostly. Her long braid is somewhat crooked, bangs sticking up all over the place from her sideways sprawl, though her bangs often look like that if she hasn't walked past a mirror recently to notice. "Naw, I'm used to sleeping through my Pop's musical tastes rolling out of speakers taller than me. Noise in here is kinda rhythmic, not at all like improvisational Leontine Blues." Gods, do not get her started on that. She opens her washer and digs out armloads of damp, mixed clothing. Lola does her laundry frat boy style, but with fewer random beer cans in with the panties and such. She shuffles toward a dryer.

Folding her arms before her, Ceres takes on a sort of studying watch as she drifts in and out of thought, her ever present smile pulling down for a moment or two as her dark eyes go distant. She taps her foot easily in an idle movement that seems to time with her breathing.

"Leontine Blues kind of make sense," Phin says, all quickly defensive of these particular musical stylings. "You just have to kind of…find the sense within the nonsense. It's better than the knock-off stuff they play on Scorpia. You ever seen it live?" He dumps in a liberal amount of detergent, bangs the lid to his machine closed, and gets it washing. "I took a couple road trips to Hedon when I was going to the Academy on Leonis. Of course, we also…drank a lot when we were there. Which might've made it more fun."

Lola struggles with a dryer door, arms laden with damp garments. "I need to be drinking, not napping, to find the heart of the blues." She grunts and gets a hold on the door to pop it open. "Drinking makes everything more fun." She grins and then disappears halfway into the machine to shove her clothes inside. Her voice echoes a bit as she asks, upper body in the spinning cavity, "You ever tried a Cryin' Lion cocktail? Two of those put me on my butt when the bartender served one at this super boring business gathering Pop had one steamy summer night in Caprica City." She pops back out of the washer. "Too bad I didn't hit the floor before most of my dress did." There's a smirk with those words.

Blinking, Ceres is drawn back into the conversation at a peripheral as Caprica City is mentioned. Another pass of her hand to the back of her neck and the Captain shifts, pushing herself away from the washer and checking her watch. "I will see you two in about fifteen, going to go grab myself some coffee." A nod of her head is given as she taps the dryer with the palm of her hand before pivoting. She leaves the two to their convesation, a hand lofted in a final wave before she slips out.

Ceres leaves, heading toward the Aft Corridor [AC].

"You're from Caprica?" Phin does not sound surprised. Kind of curious, though. "What's it like? I always wanted to see it, but I never had enough cubits to spread around to do the trip up right. People talk about it like it's the center of everything. Or it thinks it is, at least." He braces his palms against the (currently idle) washing machine next to the one he's using and hops up to sit on it. "Cryin' Lion? No. What's in it? At the blues bars in Hedon we drank straight ambrosia the entire weekend. Seemed more legit and bluesy or…something." He raises a hand to offer a wave to departing Ceres. "Later, Redux. Catch you in the sims tomorrow, if nothing else."

Lola lifts a hand to wave to Ceres, leaning on the door to smack the dryer shut. "Yeah, born and bred." She flips the timer on the machine, then goes over to have a peer into the washer to check for stray socks. She peers inside, then flips the lid closed, and hops up on top. "Depends on where you go, but Caprica City is a huge sprawl of tall buildings. Lots of glass, lots of landscaping and water features and stuff. It's beautiful, but sometimes feels really… too clean. You know? Like some neighborhoods look like somebody made 'em for a photo shoot or something." She crosses her legs and hunches down like she's never even heard of good posture. "I'm not sure what all's in a Lion, but it tastes like battery acid, and is kinda greenish blue. At least three vodkas. Maybe he just wanted to see if Caprican livers can keep up with real drinkers."

Phin chuckles. "I wonder if whoever they've got tending bar at that place on the planet knows how to make it. I haven't been down yet, but the guys who've been here for the last cruise say it was like one of the first buildings they finished there." He nods along as she talks about Caprica, looking thoughtful, like he's trying to get a picture of it together in his head. He smirks. "I grew up on Scorpia. Never been a place there that felt too clean. Though parts of Celeste are nice. And they're some beautiful beaches along the gulf, but most of the places close to the towns've been taken over by drunk Vernal breakers."

Lola's pretty small, so it could be that her sensitivity to the drink has to do with her own size, rather than its potency. Then again, maybe not. "Clean is overrated, believe me. There are some gardens in the city center where they get really upset if you park on the grass. And you can't take off your shoes and walk in the fountain without everybody acting like you just peed in the water supply." She refers, of course, to the more exclusive bits of Caprica City. "I hear Scorpia's an experience. What do you miss the most?" She shoots a look to the dryer. "Oh crap. Do you have those softener sheet things?"

"You slip the cops in Argentum Bay a twenty cubit note and you can pee pretty much anywhere you want," Phin says wryly. "An experience?" That makes him laugh again, also wryly. "I guess. It's not as much fun if you're a townie. The prices are all jacked up to milk the tourists, so it's not like you can really do the cooler stuff regular. And once you get off the main bar drag, there's not much to a lot of those places. It's like living in any nothing place, only with a bunch of neon and puking college students from Virgon or whatever on like ten blocks. I don't miss much." Though, after a moment's thought, he amends, "The paragliding cliffs are pretty cool. Can't find them like that anywhere. I went a few times on Leonis, but what their mountains aren't really right for it."

"Oh, yeah. I guess it's like there everywhere. There's always some sucker with too much money rollin' through the space port." Lola frowns a bit at the mention of puking tourists. "Pretty much my entire college experience was like that. Guess I lived in the dorm closest to the bar, and all the drunks parked crooked in our lot to get back to their housing without driving over too many members of campus security." She drops off of the edge of the washer, and leans against it. Restless now that she's awake. "Paragliding. That sounds like fun." The more dangerous it is, the more her eyes light up. It's a Lennox certainty. "Hey, I met Ragman the other day. I mean, before he strapped me in as his backseater. He was real nice to me. The whole time I was primed for some kinda jab about porn or how no self respecting officer of this service owns pink lingerie or whatever, but he didn't even taunt me once. What did you do to that dude?"

Phin's brows go up at this positive D-CAG experience. "Heh," he mutters. "Must be my natural charm. Or something. Maybe I just caught the guy on a bad day. Wasn't as freaky as waking up to the Rear Admiral. I'll say that." He nods eagerly when she mentions the fun of paragliding. "Nothing else feels like it. It's about as close to flying on your own speed as a person can get, without hollowing out your bones like a bird or something. First time I went was the summer when I was like ten. Every year there'd be like one cool trip…a bunch of kids went on, and that was it. It was just the novice hills, nothing really dangerous, but it still felt pretty awesome. My brother face-planted, but I managed to land okay. First time I ever did anything better than him."

"I want to try that. I just decided," the other ensign replies. Lola reaches up to comb her fingers through her bangs, somewhat taming their wildness. "Hey, maybe he was just in a mood that day. He likes to watch you real close, like he's thinking. Maybe he figured I'd bug out if he asked me, you know, personal things."

"It's awesome," Phin says, as to paragliding. "I was kind of wondering if the mountains on the planet would be good for it. But you'd need to, like, build a glider. Not that they're big, but I don't know if they've got all the parts for it out here. Might be worth looking into, though." As if her own toying with her hair reminds him, he idly shoves his sandy brown hair out of his eyes. "So you were back-seating for him? The D-CAG, I mean. Heh. That must've been hella intimidating."

Lola jumps a little when the dryer buzzer sounds. She clears her throat and flicks her long braid over her shoulder, as if the move was just a precursor to that. No scaredy cats here, no siree. She bends to pick up a — yup, that's a pillowcase — and carries the slip of fabric to the row of machines. She opens the door and digs around, shoving the shovables into the bottom one delightfully warm piece at a time. "There's gotta be someone around here who knows how to build a glider. I mean, what are all the scientists for if not that?" Socks and underbits go into the pillowcase first. "Mother of pearl, I thought I might pee myself. When he first turned around and was all, you can backseat for me, Ensign, I thought there was somebody behind me. No such luck." She jams some tshirts into the bag. "But I didn't accidentally key in the sequence for a drone or a missile when I was s'posed to jam, so there's the good. Sucks that you guys had to bail out because of a mechanical failure. But at least those bugs were running in the sims, and not on a real mission."

Phin gets a laugh out of that. "I'm kind of sorry I missed it. Maybe next time. I've been trying to get in some time in the Predator models. My flight scores were lower on them than Vipers when I was doing my training quals. Still passed, but…y'know. If I ever actually have to fly the things, I'd like to do more than just good enough. And yeah. I mean. This is a super-secret military area or whatever. I guess somebody might know how to put a glider together. I'll ask around." The washing machine his clothes are in sort of clunks to a stop. He can start drying his stuff now.

Lola's clothing-stuffed-pillow is hefted over her shoulder like an honest to Gods sack of potatoes — a toasty warm sack of potatoes in a myriad of girl colors, that is. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Good enough is about one bad landing off of 'smeared across the flight pod.'" She closes the dryer much more gently than she did the washer earlier. "I bet they'd be willing to do some kind of thing for that when they have time between projects. Maybe even a deckie with the right bribing. I'm not into fabrication, but I might call up some theory for design. Somebody around here probably even has their notes. If you do get that together, I'd be game to try it." Hopefully, it won't end in the great paragliding fail of 2004. Lola turns to Phin. "I'm gonna go rack out, but maybe I'll see you in the sims this week? I asked for some time practicing atmo drops."

Phin lets out another "Heh." He nods. "Yeah. I'm hoping to avoid the whole 'smeared across stuff' thing. The pilots that've been here awhile say it's pretty quiet, though. Whatever that weird shit was that made the ship jump to the Armistice Line, I guess they don't deal with it out here, like, usual." He stakes out a dryer, showing no particular inclination to separate as he jams his clothes into it, either. Pretty much everything he owns is Navy issue, apart from the odd T-shirt. "Maybe it means they'll have time to play around with stuff like gliders. Anyway. I'll be in the sims, so I'll see you around. Later, Lola."

"You bet." Lola ships off to the corridor with a bright grin back to Phin, all dimply and full of exuberance mustered up by one freshly awakened from a nap, and sure to rack out face down in under twenty minutes. Sleep only powers her cheery demeanor further. "Things to be said for a far out post babysitting a planet full of researchers." With that, she heads out through the hatch to sashay back to the berths, laundry bag in tow, which also makes a good bumper in case she miscalculates on a hatch and smacks into the bulkhead. "Night!" Surely half the deck heard that.

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