PWD #08: N-ice A-ss, G-reat S-ass
N-ice A-ss, G-reat S-ass
Summary: Cole and Jess, two wayward wingmates reunited.
Date: 26/12/2012 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: None.
Cole Jess 
Viper Squadron
The berthings for the Orion's Air Wing are the same as what one would find on any other Mercury-class Battlestar, though they are distinctly different from the rest of the bunks on the ship. These bunks are separated not into sections of sixty, but by squadron. That means that there is a little more room to move around with only twenty to twenty-five pilots in one bunkhouse. Some officers have brought a small rug to sit in front of their bunks, but the tables and chairs are standard military issue. At the rear is a small couch that was probably new when the ship left anchorage and seems to have been kept carefully clean. The crest of the Lucky Strikes has been painted onto the wall behind the couch, as well.
December 26, 2004

Berthings are as ever an epicenter of activity with pilots coming and going from their shift, playing triad, or doing other recreational activities in their bunk. And lo there is Cole, ignoring all of that as he sits at a quiet table with a grid of envelopes in front of him. He's busy writing chits from his military account, meticulously paying attention to every cubit that he expends by keeping a ledger.

Jess wrings her hair out with a towel as she heads in, clean tanks damp patched here and there where they cling post-shower. She tugs a chair out with a toe and takes a seat across the table, leaning over to peer at Cole's work. "You dropped a decimal," she tells him, reaching across to gesture at the spot. It might be a joke, or it might be helpful, her expression isn't really a helpful guide.

Cole flicks up an annoyed glance, but does an immediate double take. All his careful work is scattered across the table top as he launches himself over it in an attempt to wrangle her into a half-tackling bear hug that leaves him bellyflopped on the table like a beached seal. "NAGS! You annoying frakking bitch you!" It's a term of endearment, really. Glad to see her? YES.

Jess laughs as she's pretty literally pounced, arms up to thump Cole on the back as she returns that hug, wet towel caught over one shoulder between them. "Ari you dickhead, get off the table," she grins, reaching up to ruffle his hair with a friendly scrub, "You'll knock us both over. What's all this paper anyway?" she asks, "Did you become an accountant while I was gone?"

Cole gives her a good hard squeeze that is a bit overzealous. For a moment, he just stays there with eyes pinched shut despite her insistance that he is going to cause them doom. Finally, he scrambles backwards until his ass finds his seat again. As he bends and reaches to collect the papers and right them, he comments, "Just doing disbursements to the family." As he flips back over the envelopes and tries to find the cooresponding chit, there appears to be one to Mrs. Magnola Cole and one to Ms. Ivy Cole, both sent to the care of an attorney in Boskirk, Virgon. A third is sent to an attorney on Yparana, Scorpia for Ms. Cintia Pescador which Jess may remember is his mother. "Double hazard pay stretches a bit further these days."

Jess chances doom a bit longer rather than trying to extricate herself from the hug, and then slings the towel over the back of her chair, hair a dark, wet twist draped over her shoulder. She helps collect scattered pages, eyeing a couple as she passes them back over. "Ivy Cole?" she asks, lifting a brow, "You have a sister I've never heard about? Or a—" she pauses, looks up, eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion, "Have you got a kid, Jan?"

Janitor twitches just the smallest of smiles at the corner of his mouth. "I'm a daddy. Little over two years now." He extends his left forearm so that Jess can get a good view of the tiny pair of footprints that have been tattooed in that place of honor. After allowing her a momentary glance, he pulls his arms back, fingernails scratching the tattoo as if it's still healing but it looks well past that stage. "Ivy Ariadne."

"Rat bastard!" Jess exclaims, leaning over to peer at the tattoo and then swipe at Cole's head in a playful shove, "Wow," she says, "Wow, Ari. Congrats. That's amazing, you and Maggie must be thrilled." She leans over, gives him another shove, "You weren't going to tell me, you asshole? I thought I had dibs on godsmother or something!" (She didn't.)

Cole laughs a little chortle as he rocks backwards, lamely trying to avoid those shoves but they connect anyways. "Thanks. Sorry I didn't write, but with all of this…" He waves a hand around which not only encompasses the physical ship, but perhaps all the metaphysical things in his life. "…life's been a bit frakked up. So what about you, Nags? Oh wait." He holds up a hand. "I thought of a few more. Tell me if I'm getting close. N-ymph A-ddicted to G-rad S-tudents. N-eighborhood A-dult G-raphic novel S-aleswoman. Uh… N-ice A-ss, G-reat S-ass."

"It would have been more redactions than anything, it seems like," Jess says, with a chin-gesture at the ship, "Given how triple top secret this has all turned out to be." Which is her way of saying she is not offended, it is okay. "More—" she laughs, and shakes her head, "You know, I like that last one. I might just keep that. I do have a nice ass, if I say so myself."

"It does have a nice ring to it, huh?" Cole starts stuffing envelopes, the one addressed to his wife and child don't seem to get personal notes, where the one to his mother (or her attorney) gets a little card stuck in with the chit. He daps his tongue on the adhesive strip to activate it, then glues each envelope shut. They are likely bound for the mail room later today, as the post should be running soon. "The Sister said she met you the other day."

Jess watches, eyeing the fronts of those envelopes again and drumming fingers on the tabletop, as prone to fidgeting now as ever. "The Sister said you were giving up all your rec time to build her a temple with your bare hands," she replies facetiously, "I can't believe you did something worth that much penitence and didn't even invite me."

Ari gives a shrug, arms thrown open wide with palms towards the ceiling in an 'eh, whaddya going to do' kind of gesture. "Gotta live up to the callsign. It's not a normal tour if I don't end up on some sort of Latrine duty. At least this one, I don't mind doing. It's a good cause, and all I have to do is haul some boxes and nail some boards. Besides, the Sister is pleasant company."

"Well, I'm glad to be left out of that part, at least," Jess replies. She tips back in her chair until it's balanced on two legs, combing fingers through her hair, working out a knot as she says, "I only met her for a second. What do you make of the rest of this crew?"

"The crew?" Ari asks, finishing his mail by tapping it into a tidy stack and then slipping it in the pages of his ledger for momentary safe keeping. "We've got a wide range. Kids to stubborn old mules. Some didn't realize what they were signing up for, but it could be worse. They have some land they can plant their feet on, instead of floating around in the Black on a regular Battlestar. Met some real douches too, but I'll give you the fun of ferretting those out for yourself." He digs for a pack of cigarettes in his pants pocket, leaning back to aid the search and rescue mission.

"Thanks for that," Jess replies dryly, "At least I know one already," she jokes with a grin." She sets her chair back down on the deck with a clang and sets to toweling her hair again, saying, "When've you got time downstairs next? We should go grab a drink and catch up. Questions always go down better with a chaser."

"At least I'm a good-looking douche bag." Ari points out by pointing at her with the filter of his cigarette as he gesticulates. He tucks it between his lips and as he lights it, he answers her with an, "Mmm." He puffs a cherry to life before he can continue verbally, "Don't drink anymore." Exhaling his lungful of smoke, "But I'll gladly pop down with you. I'll put in to match my day up with yours."

"You've always had that going for you, at least," Jess agrees with a grin, one that vanishes rapidly into open-mouthed disbelief. "What do you mean, you don't drink anymore?" No, really. What does that mean? She is confused.

Ari throws out a hand in self defense as if preparing himself from suddenly being knifed by his old wingman. "It's a religious choice. Purification of the body for the sake of the soul, if you will. It's really no big deal, I just hop myself up on caffeine instead in a creative loop hole sort of way."

Jess just sort of makes noises that are the starts of words but never quite materialize into whole ones, until she manages, even more incredulous than before, "Purification of the— why?" She frowns, tilts her head, and leans forward to peer at Cole, concerned and skeptical and suspicious at once. "What happened?" she asks, and then she drops her voice lower, more concerned, poking more carefully, "Are you and Maggie— alright?"

Ari waves off the question with a gesture of his hand that also serves to dissipate the smoke exhaled by his lips. "We're fine. Do you think I would have stayed on for the second eighteen months of this tour otherwise? Just a choice, nothing more. That and I don't eat meat. Man do I miss steaks, but at least now I have an excuse as to why I protest meatloaf day in the Mess, right?"

"I don't know, if it was done you might have?" Jess shrugs, still eyeing Cole searchingly as she sits back again. "No meat and no alcohol. Right. Anything else fun you're cutting out that I should know about? Did you just cut out fun altogether, or are you going thing by thing individually? Flying? Shooting things? Movies? Fried foods?"

"As long as they're fries or cloud cakes that are being deep fried, I'm in the clear. Uh…let's see. Well, I don't frak but that's a given." Seeming how he has a wife at home, right? Ari leans back with his cigarette, scratching at the corner of his eye with his thumbnail. As he pulls it away, he notices a sparkling fleck of glitter underneath the nail. "Shit still is everywhere." He holds his thumb out to Jess as if that should be self explanatory of the story behind it.

Jess scrubs at an eyebrow and nods. "Right. Well." She leans forward to eye the glitter in his nail, and gives him a look. "So, what, you've given up meat and booze and taken up… glitter? Childrens' craft projects? Sober raves?"

"Torturing Ensigns. Or in this case, he tortured me. Turn about is fair play." Perhaps finding that glitter under his nail as made him a tad itchy, for now the pilot is scritchscratching at his chest, making his dogtags jangle beneath his tanks. "Anyways, I'm going to walk these letters to the mail room so I don't miss the next post. Glad as frak you're aboard, Nags. Needed a friend."

"Torturing them with glitter? Well, next time let me know anyway," Jess says, "I'm always up for some good old fashioned hazing." She nods as Cole rises, smile warm and sincere for all her dry teasing. "Good to see you, too, Janitor. It'll be nice to have you on my wing again. See you later, yeah?"

Cole scooping up his ledger with the mail tucked inside, he edges around the table and leaves over to give Jess' cheek a chaste kiss. "I'll be glad to have you, anyway I can get you. See you around, N-imble A-crobatic G-othic S-lut."

Jess pats his shoulder as he leans, and then laughs, "Not bad, not bad. I still prefer Nice Ass, Great Sass, though. Keep trying, Ari." She gives him a smile and a wave, and wanders off for her locker.

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