PWD #30: Pollution Done Right
PWD #30: Pollution Done Right
Summary: A vignette of conversations that come and go on Checkpoint Charlie's. Knox arranges to sneak behind his superiors' backs.
Date: 06/Dec/2012 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: None
Noble Fionnula Knox Theo Lennox Ella Bennett 
Checkpoint Charlie's — Piraeus
The first structure completed on Piraeus was a 'recreation center' that was thinly veiled as such. Checkpoint Charlie's is in every other way a blue collar bar with an unsurprising bent towards the military establishment. Camouflage netting hangs from the ceiling with some kind of dried vine tangled throughout. On the walls are pictures and mementos of times past on the planet they currently reside on. There are a few billiards tables smuggled out to Piraeus specifically for this location, along with card tables and an fully functional line of taps and kegs mounted to, perhaps unsurprisingly, a beat-up but taken-care-of oak bar. The matching stools and wood tables seem to indicate that the construction workers may have disassembled someone else's bar back on the Colonies. The story even goes that the name is taken from a former bar on Aerilon that happened to resemble, very closely, this particular establishment.
Dec 06, 2004

Checkpoint Charlie's. Far too firmly attached to the military operation on Piraeus to be considered a den of iniquity, it manages to be the place to be seen on the planetoid's surface. Military personnel, scientist, and civilian contractor alike have gathered into the low key establishment for a bit of drink and downtime, and the energy of the popular bar is downright electric. The din of dozens of conversations provides a static hiss over the feel good rock music that rumbles through the speakers. The light haze of cigarette smoke stains the ceiling, and the floor is slightly tacky in places where spilled beer and liquor have yet to be cleaned.

Fresh off of the boat, Corporal Simon Noble didn't have to create a checklist of the many sights and sounds he wants to experience on Piraeus. It's pretty simple for the man; find the bar and you'll eventually find everything else. So as he steps through the door, he lets out a sigh of relief and brushes his hand through his red hair. Home again. It's been a few weeks, and the one place he feels ultimately comfortable is still in one piece. "Bar…hook a man up?" He asks, stepping up to a bartender, sliding over one of his vouchers.

Content to be alone with her thoughts in a sea of raucous drinkers. Dressed for the weather in a heavy canvas workcoat, she sits hunched on a barstool with her hands clasped around a frosty cold beer mug that's about half-empty. There's no 'hello' to the solider when he slides up to the bar; there's only a slight tilt of the head and a nod. What might've been taken for a man at first - heavy cargo pants, sturdy boots, thick coat, no sign of long hair - turns out to be a woman with a tight braid slid down inside the high collar of the coat.

Having traded in his military off-duty tank tops for an old, black long-sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans that have survived well past their shelf live, Noble's ability to masquerade as a civilian contractor is failed by the existence of the brass dog-tags that sway around his neck. Beer in hand, he brings the frosted mug to his lips for a sip. Then…he notices Fionnula. Her nod is returned softly before he casts his gaze over her head and around the bar. There are plenty of faces he doesn't recognize, hers being one of them.

"So…I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that's your after-a-bad-day-at-work beer." Simon says to her, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. "Right?"

"Heh. Yeah, you could say that." She even articulates the little 'heh' there, with a little shake of her head. Whatever else she might be thinking remains very much unsaid. Back to the beer she goes, taking a long swig. Clearly, she's pretty much used to the environment here.

Short response? Lack of eye contact? Both of those things are bad signs, but there's a certain sadness in her 'heh' that brings Simon Noble to tilt his head and take notice. Frowning just a little, he gives his frown the opportunity to hold onto his cigarette as he lights it. A puff of smoke later, he sets down the pack within arm's reach, motioning Fionnula to it. "So, to a person like me there's nothing rude about saying you're not interested in talking. Annoying bar patrons are the worst." Simon starts, the words flowing before he even really thinks about what he's trying to say. He lets a little pause slip in. "Contractor?"

She isn't completely ignoring him! While he mentions annoying bar patrons, and asks his little (obvious) question, Fionnula turns on her stool a little, and gives him a sarcastic little grin. "And just what, pray tell, would give you that impression? Is it thoroughly inconceivable that I could too could be a member of your ship's crew? In fact, I'll do one better. What if I was an officer - a /superior/ officer, even - and you're here all swagger and strut making a fool of yourself by confusing me with a simple contractor who spends all day digging in the dirt looking for gods knows what on this rock?"

The secret is in her hands, literally. Short-trimmed nails? Check. Dirt that never seems to come off no matter what? Check.

Simon can't help but grin a little bit while he politely blows a lungful of smoke away from the two of them. His smile isn't competitive, he's simply rising to the challenge. "Well…" He starts, giving her a once over. It's not a body check, it's more of a recalculation, or at least that's what he wants it to look like. "…for starters, officers don't dig in the dirt. They don't usually have little bits of dirt on them. Not that I'm saying you're dirty but…" He motions to her hands. "Second, to be fair, it's not hard to swing a superior rank above me. I'm not bad at what I do, but all that time bringing my arm up to salute at every piece of brass that I see gives me this roster of faces I try to not forget." He shifts, pressing his hip into the bar so that he can face her just a little more. "Swagger and strut, you say?" He laughs a little. "I'm swaggering and strutting?"

"If there's one thing this planet excels at, it's creating the sensation of needing a shower that lasts for approximately two hours. But, loathe as I am to admit it, I am in fact a contractor. The powers that be seem to think I was well-suited to help them learn…something." Here, she deviates from the discourse on her profession. "Juding by the disparity in the size of your arms, either you're saluting quite a lot of brass, or, well, I think we know how the rest of that jest ends. It goes along with the swaggering and strutting. It's a Marine Thing, yes?"

"Honestly? A lot of it is the whole 'trained to get shot at and return fire' thing. Crawling around in the mud under barbed wire while some angry screaming Sergeant is shooting live rounds over your head? After that a lot of my fear of talking to girls went right out the window, miss." Simon replies, instinctively giving his right arm a little flex, capping her joke with a little chuckle from his lips. "But you're right. I'm saluting a lot of brass, I'm a marine and well…" To the other thing? "…it is what it is."

He pauses for another sip from his beer, then sets the heavy mug back down onto the bartop. "So I do a lot of lifting heavy things and putting them down for a living, that or stand in one place for hours at a time. It's downright glamorous and I don't get two hour showers either." He smiles, looking back to her. "What do you do down here?"

Knox pushes through the door, unzipping his heavy camo jacket and looks aroundas he continues stepping inside. He looks like he knows where he's going, maybe already having been here the night before — which is likely. He heads over towards the actual bar and bellies up. "Whatever is on tap," he says quietly to the tender.

"Just like you say: I dig in the dirt. I'm out here looking for shinies, pretty diamonds that the admiral can give to the missus. If I'm lucky, maybe I'll find one I can take home with me. If I'm /really/ lucky, I'll find one or two dozen that have interesting physical properties." She takes a smaller sip of her beer now. "And no, I don't just mean interesting colors or shapes. There are other physical properties."

"Interesting as…can put it into a weaponized form and throw it at something, right?" Simon huffs, knowing the territory somewhat, alluding to new minerals and the sort of things that the people with the money find interesting about them. "So you're a geologist? That's pretty interesting. Find anything of note yet? Oh and yes. That was a four syllable word. I totally pulled it off."

Sensing a new arrival, Simon takes a quick glance over his shoulder to see Knox at the bar. Having just seen him a few nights prior at a Triad game, he lifts his cigarette in a mock salute to the man. "Wirelo. Good seeing you, man."

The beer is delivered as Knox takes a seat and looks down to the drink. Its pulled over and he takes a small sip before stripping off the coat the rest of the way. He looks over to Noble and nods once. "Hey. Shame you left that game the other night. I was forced to fill your slot. Played a hand. Lost my shirt." He shakes his head and lifts the beer again.

Yes, not really, and we're all impressed," she rattles off in response to all of Noble's many points. It's pretty clear though that when the two marines start to chat, the slang isn't exactly a strong suit of hers.

"What, not really as in it's not interesting or not really as in you haven't found anything interesting yet? Simon replies to Fionnula, taking another sip from his mug of beer. The look he gives her is a little immature, but the conversation he's trying to have with her is light, friendly, and low-stress. It's kind of his thing.

"Hey Knox." He leans his back against the bar. "I was about three or four minutes from losing my own shirt, and I'm down about two hundred cubits from that game. Trust me. They had every card in the deck. Here…" He motions from Knox to Fionnula, integrating the man into their conversation. "I was just speaking with this lady here. She's a geologist contractor down here planetside. Miss…?" This is where he works at getting her name.

"Yeah, it was nasty. I havent played it in years." The man talks with a quiet voice, just loud enough to be heard over the din of surrounding conversations. He then looks over to the woman and lofts his brow. "A geologist?" He's suddenly interested. "Found anything out of the ordinary?" A beat. "I mean, out of the ordinary for an alien planet." Obviously. "Obviously." He's not the most socially adept guy ever.

She takes a moment, in some small part to make them wait, but also to go ahead and finally take Noble up on the offered cigarettes that he put out on the bar. It's not a serious habit, but more of a social thing; she's smoked before. "Doctor, actually. Doctor Fionnula Taylor." In some circles, she might add that they 'might' know her, but not in this social circle. "There have been some moderately interesting finds, but nothing extraordinary or vastly and wholly unknown."

Doctor? Noble's eyes cock just a little bit. Doctors aren't contractors. They're supercontractors. To give his two cubits on the emergence of the title, he looks over to Knox and lifts a well-shaped brow. Doctor. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Doctor Taylor. I'm Corporal Simon Noble, and this is Sergeant Cooper Knox. We're kind of all beat over the head with technical details relating to our jobs, so it's hard not to perk a little bit at scary words like investigation and science." He smiles, moving to the side to allow Knox more into the trio of conversation. "Where'd you go to school for that?"

Doctor? Knox lets his brow loft. Yep, interested. He trades a glance with Noble and looks back. "Moderately. Huh. Have you guys really looked into the planet deeply?" He nods a thanks at the introduction. "I'm interested to know more about this place. I mean, finding a habitable world is kinda, well, rare isn't it? …How far are we from home, anyway?"

Noble leans over to Knox, counting the syllables with his fingers. "In. Vest. I. Ga. Tion." Kaboom. Noble's on a roll.

"For a while, it was all hands on deck to get this fine city established, such as it is. Doctor or not, people need to swing hammers and scoop shovels. A lack of results so far shouldn't be confused with a lack of results ever. Caprica City wasn't built in a day, and we've got a whole planet here to investigate. Geology, the study of pressure and time. We're lacking in one, and have an abundance of the other." She just shakes her head a little. "I've been to school on Leonis, Nemean and Luminiere Universities."

"Well, and correct me if I'm wrong, but if there's nothing new and interesting here geologically, that's not as fun but it's still a result, right? Scientifically, I mean?" Noble asks, and then promptly stubs out his cigarette. Scratching his jaw, he looks between the two of them. "I mean, how often do we get to study a new planet and then find it's not that different from the other twelve, right?"

Knox smirks at Noble, chuckling a bit to the word structure and count. "Aye. A lack of evidence in one direction is not proof of the opposing argument. Just standard logic. Makes sense." He seems a little disappointed. "Well if you ever find anything I'd love to hear about it. I'm not even a layman in terms of interest, but I think this place is pretty neat." He then looks to Noble and shrugs. "Even without anything super exciting and new, this place is cool."

"And you get to be the cool guys who went on a top secret mission to a new planet, born though it may or may not end up being." Following a long drag on the cigarette, she leans back and exhales straight up into the air. "You know, I know this is absolutely wretched for my body, and they just by being in here I'm exponentially increasing my chances of lung cancer, but I have to say, I do look much, much cooler. Right?" She even grins a little bit.

"Just imagine how much cooler you look when I let you smoke and fire a grenade launcher at the same time. If you don't look cool doing it, you'll feel like a monolithic, that's four, creature of epic proportions." Simon replies, downing the last of his beer and sliding the glass towards the bartender. "I can arrange that on take a doctor to work day in a few weeks. YO!" He whistles for the bartender, waving a few drink vouchers. He looks back to Knox and Fionnula. "Doctor? Knoxey? Refills?"

"Hey, I won't complain," Knox answers amicably beforetaking another sip of his beer. "This place is nice and out ofthe way. Like going to a small town by a military base." Despite the tanks and trucks around town. Nobles words get another laugh and he nods until there is an offer of a refill. "No, thank you, I'm fine for the moment. …So you're rifles, right?"

"I'm a lightweight, I'm afraid. I came to drink, not get drunk. I'm also fine, thanks." Fionnula waves off the offer of another beer politely. A bit wobbly for the first step, she manages to slide off the bar stool, and find the zipper of her coat. "And now, I plant my butt back on the ship to look through what modestly-interesting things we have found so far."

"Alright, well take care of yourself then, Doctor Taylor. If I see you around, good, if not then thanks for the time." Noble salutes her with his fresh beer and then settles back in against the bar. He slips another cigarette from his pack and lights it, then looks over to Knox. "Yeah, I'm rifles with Dog Two. You and Padre are with Dog Three, right?"

"Thanks for the chat-up, Doc. Good to meet you." Knox lifts his beer as well and nods to the woman before looking back to Noble. "Yeah. We're the JTACs on this outting, apparently. I don't know if we're going to be placedwith Dog officially yet. I think the sudden recall borked with some top level people's plans." He shrugs. "So they figure it out. In the meantime, Padre and I have a lot of work to do. Can't wait on the heavies to make up their minds."

Standing next to Knox at the bar in a very not-his-date manner is Noble, puffing the first few drags off of a cigarette and exhaling the cloud of smoke towards the smokeeater units in the ceiling. "Right, but that kind of leeway's sticking your necks out, or isn't it? You're not wrong, though, sometimes things get wrapped up with the rear echelon types that everything grinds down to a halt." Simon rests back against the bar, taking up the mug of beer in his other hands.

Into Checkpoint Charlie's comes a young man in a ridiculous knot stocking cap with pompom and earflaps and a big T on the front that in no way compromises the confident swagger. Theo pauses as he enters, scanning the room with pale grey-green eyes. They find Knox and he brightens, smile easy and cheerful as he offers the JTAC a wave and makes his way over.

Knox shrugs. "Yeah, I guess it is in a way. But look at it this way: You have something you need to do. Overall, it needs to be done. Nobody else is moving. If you don't take the initiative, then who will? Do whatcha have to. If I get in trouble, well, so be it. Life is imperfect. But I hate sitting on the sidelines." He sips at his beer again and looks over atthe movement/wave and nods to Theo. "Evenin, sir. What's news?"

"Speak for yourself, Knoxey, I'm a Corporal. When I take the initiative I run the risk of shoveling shit for months. Months. It puts things into perspective." Simon replies to the Wirelo over the rim of his mug of beer. As Theo arrives, his eyebrows lift with his chin to acknowledge the man. Officer or not, Noble's off duty and unless it's a summons back to the Orion officers and decorum are on the can-pound-sand list. "Nice hat." He says to Theo, drinking down some beer, but the mug can't hide the little smirk on his face.

"The sidelines are boring." Theo says dryly, wrinkling his nose slightly, "I prefer to be out there doing stuff. Even if it's just making a fool out of myself." He rubs at his nose. Is.. is that glitter he's trying to rub away? Pink glitter? "Dub is willing. We're going to officially be doing a photo-recon of the terrain in the area to supplement the DRADIS scans, and will forget to mention you and your crew hitching a ride." He then grins at Noble, a Cheshire expression. "Isn't it, though? We're all going to die. Every single one of us. Might as well do it in style, eh?" He laughs, flips the string from the earflaps over his shoulder like a flirty girl, and orders himself a beer. "These two frakkers as well." He says, jerking a thumb at Knox and Noble. He turns back to Knox. "Whenever you're ready, let us know and we'll check out a raptor. How long do you plan on being out?"

Lola Lennox rolls into the bar with a thick knit cap pulled down over her ears, the fabric just folded up enough to see, and a cigarette hanging out of her mouth. She's nestled snugly into the depths of a large wool coat that obscures all but the trousers and boots of her off-duties. Long blonde hair falls in a loose braid along her shoulder, one of the few signs that she's a human, and not a very chilly, winter-wool encrusted turtle. When she reaches up to brush a truly massive splash of cig ash from the lapel of her coat, a flash of color turns out to be a pair of truly eyeblazingly-pink fingerless gloves. She shuffles toward a the bar, and any reasonably placed seat thereabouts.

"Different terrain, I guess. Our guys and gals don't generally fall under normal command structure so we're used to a more loose atmosphere. I'm sure eventually I'll run afoul of something or someone." The JTAC tilts his pint to the side a skosh and gives an 'oh well' expression to Noble before looking to Theo. And the glitter. "Wow." Just wow. "Ahem, right. But awesome. Thanks, sir. I appreciate it. We'll plan on seventy-two hours. We'll bring some smoke grenades and a penflare. If we're not at the pickup site, we'll signal and keep off the radios. I think Af wants to go, too. We'll see. But cool, I'll talk to Hook and let you know. Probably sometime in the next few days. …Leave it as a debt or favor owed?" he offers. Theres a nod to Lennox as she sits but the man doesn't say anything to her just yet.

Noble narrows his eyes at Theo's hat, and when the officer plays with the cap's earflaps, his eyes narrow at the man more. Style? Style the man says? The duck-lipped expression that Noble gives back to the man says volumes, especially if those volumes are of the 'you sir are not an expert on style' variety. "I dunno, man. There's about ten things on my short list of things that I want to do while dying, and none of them involve wearing a hat, but since you're buying me some beer…" Noble digresses, relents, and motions for the man to join them. "…thanks, man. Get you one." A chair, he means.

When Lola arrives, Simon does one of those casual leans back against the bar. Cigarette lit, he holds it above everyone's head with the assistance of a bent elbow and glances over the woman. It's a bar. That's how things work. He takes another drag and looks over to Knox. "What the frak is it about hats right now? Seriously." He laughs and scratches his chest. "Oh, and this a conversation I'm supposed to never have heard, Knox? You and glitter-hat up to no good?"

Theo smirks at Knox's wow. "Got something on my face, do I?" He drawls, and laughs. "You should see Janitor. I managed to put glitter all in his bodywash. He looks like a disco threw up on his balls." He chuckles, and winks at Simon, tapping the side of his nose and adjusting the angle of his hat. Lola's arrival is met with a cheerful smile and a lift of his chin. To Knox, "That works, Knox. Just let me know when you're ready. You know the weight limit of a Raptor, so I won't patronize you by telling you how to pack. Just remember that Dub and I will have some gear too. Otherwise? I'm at your disposal." And he bows floridly.

Lennox isn't quite shivering when she hits the bar, but she shows little sign of removing any layers once she reaches it. The cherry of her cig glows brightly with a deep inhale, hands free as she's shoved her mitts back into her pockets. She gives a little chin-up sort of nod to those who happen to make eye contact, like the Knox, Noble (even if he's not looking at her face), and then her gaze flicks to the hat juuuust as she hears 'disco ball threw up on his balls. "What the mother humper?" That's a very quiet mutter, probably not meant to be said aloud. Because, what. Disco ball… did she hear that right? Oh, wait. Theo. There might be a little pink glitter splash damage adhered to her combat boots. Maybe it happened on the raptor. That crap gets everywhere once it's unleashed in a closed system. "Fellas." This is said a bit more loudly, perhaps to cover the odd little mutter from before.

Knox smirks over to Noble and nods. "Something like that. We need to go out and scout the bombing range. Set up some targets. Look at the good and bad approaches. Nothing too exciting. But its stuff that needs to be done." The JTAC looks back to Theo and shrugs. "We'll need to be able to move fast so we'll be packing light. Sidearms and backpacks. Planning your own outting?" he offers. But the mention of Janitor gets a lofted brow. "Holy shit." Blink. "Make sure next time you slip it between his sheets." He then smirks at the response from Lennox. "Yeah, no joke. Evenin."

Whatever inspection Simon is giving Lennox doesn't last, as her coat isn't helpful to the first impression that he's trying to read from her. However, the words what the mother humper punch him in the gut and the laughter can't be held back. Be bares his teeth in a cheeky growl and covers his eyes with the side of his cigarette hand, laughing towards the floor. Clearly it's one he's never heard. The novelty ends quickly enough, and after a scratch of his thumbnail to a spot just south of his left eye, he salutes her with his cigarette. "Miss." He jerks a thumb to Theo and quietly mouths something intelligible that looks like he's making excuses for the man's behavior.

"Tell you what." Simon, suddenly cuts off and cranes his neck back towards Theo. "I get what the deal is and I agree, I didn't hear nothing. I never hear nothing. I should be remembered for my lack of hearing." He clears his throat. "No. I'm not going on any outing. I'm just on leave man and the clock is ticking down."

"How's tricks, Lola?" Theo asks, turning to her with one of his cheerful grins. "Don't mind that guy. He's obviously on something." Theo tsks at Noble sadly, "I think it's called 'leave'." He eyes the laughing Noble, and adds, "I'm Theo, by the way." He doesn't give rank. That's just tacky. "Since you're so epic a deaf, I'll spot you a drink, hey?" He then chuckles at Knox. "I was lucky to escape alive. Janitor nearly wrestled me to the ground and teabagged me with his.. ah.. disco balls. I'm not messing with him again. At least, not so soon."

"Simon." Noble quickly replies to Theo with a wave and gets to downing the last of his beer. He's got more coming and only so much bar space. Ooo-ra.

Lola takes her rightful place at a barstool adjacent the disco ball/glitter conversation. It could have been a mere utterance in the flow of exchange, but it was the one she rolled up on, so it's the one that sticks in her mind. At Noble's laughter, she tips her chin down a little, but jerks up again as her cigarette singes the lapel. Frak. perhaps no one saw that. She glances up in time to catch Noble's gesture, and lifts a shoulder in one of those 'yeah, yanno, Theo' sort of shrugs. "Blue skies, Theo. You know me." Her voice is clear and cheerful enough, still — a faint pinking to her cheeks happens. She reaches up to flick a hand through unruly bangs, and shoves her (less flashy than Theo's) hat up a little bit, which accomplishes nothing except to muss her up more. "What does…" the question is half out of her mouth before she gets the teabag thing, "Oh." Gods, the disco balls. How can she reply to this."Which one of these brews burns the most going down?"

Coop just gives Theo a quiet and all too mischeivious grin. "I'll be sure and remind him of the incident if I ever catch him on runs." He sips the beer and sets it back down. "I'm Mike Six-Four out there. I can't remember what Hook's call is. But if I catch a Janitor on a run I'll do my best. He can keel haul me later or something." The Sergeant smirks happily then looks back to Noble. "We're going to be moving near thirty miles a day on foot. Don't think that sounds like leave you want to take." Knox shrugs to Lennox, though. "They're all pretty close to cheap Virgan brew from what I've tasted. You might have better luck with an off-brand."

"I heard a rumor the deckies had a still in one of the storage rooms." Theo adds helpfully, "Maybe one of you could talk to them, enlisted to enlisted, and get'm to move it down here. Or build another." The ECO gets to his feet, finishing off his brew and paying his tab. "I've got to go grease some wheels on our camping trip, and wheedle some provisions out of the mess staff." He gives Lola a grin and a wink at her expression, and slips out.

"Are you frakkin' kidding me, Knoxey? I didn't join the CMC for thirty mile foot humps. Frak that shit." Noble suddenly replies and sets an empty beer-mug aside. In a display of pure sarcasm and self-depricating humor, he harrumphs and changes the tone in his voice. "I joined up for the prestige." In a brotherly manner, he slugs Theo on the upper arm and motions for the man to pay the bartender. "I'm feeling shots though, man, and in all fairness I've known you for ten seconds and I've observed…" He counts on one hand. "…teabagging, glitter, and crazy hat so I'm going to PLEASE ask you to not drug me and cut out my kidneys, alright, Theo?" Laugh. Give Shit. It's Bro-Time…and then the man goes away.

"Well…let's see here." Noble starts, looking over a small collection of un-drank mugs. Giving them a once over, he picks the darkest of all of them and sets it down in front of her. "This one. I don't know what it is but it's not piss and it's a bar." Noble's had a few. "That's until the shots come in. You guys wanna do a 'bomb run'? Drop some shots into drinks?"

Lola glances over to Knox, amber eyes serious as she considers his consultation on the bar's selection of swill. She hmms, and waits to order until the bartender's wandered within verbal range. It's possible her cheery little eyes glitter a bit with the breadth of questionable brews at her fingertips. It's just like the back bottom row of the mini fridge in high school. "I'd die at mile nine. Do you guys really run thirty miles?" She gives her full attention to the mug Noble plunks down in front of her, not unlike a thirsty hobbit eyeballing a pint. She reaches for it, pink-gloved hands sliding around the mug. She drags it toward her with greedy delight. In answer to the bomb question, she asks, "Are the MPs down here rough types?" Are there MPs down here. She seems to have some concern, at any rate, for the outcome of said shooters.

Knox watches the ECO suddenly vamoose and he blinks. "Well that was sudden." Huh. He sips his beer again and turns back more to face the bar and Noble. The Sergeant shrugs. "Its a nice high. Good way to see the world, too. It gives a nice perspective to things." The quiet Marine isn't exactly King Oorah apparently. "But whatever works for you. Ain't a thing. I trust the Corps has kept up its end to help you with being 'prestigious' with the women?" Back to Lennox, Coop shakes his head. "Naw. We move at a brisk pace and don't stop a lot. Eat on the move with snacks. Its actually not as bad as most people think it out to be. The number of miles is a little large at first but its like walking the Orion from one end to the other fifteen times." He shrugs. "I'm pretty sure most anyone could do it if they walked a lot on a regular basis."

"Don't get me wrong, Knox. I love my job. It's been good to me, not necessarily that kind of prestige. I like to think that sort of attention comes from who I am, but the corps has done me well. This post is amazing pay-out-wise." He scratches the back of his head and looks back to Lola on his side. "I've done thirty miles, yeah, don't let this guy fool you. It's something that if you've done it once you've hated it, but if you have to do it over and over again you tell people it's not so bad so that you can keep your mind off of it. It's bad. Oh, it's very bad." Noble replies to Lola, accepting the new drinks and arranging them at the bar. He looks to Knox on his right and then Lola on his left, sizing the two of them up. Lola wants to know about the MPs? "Why, are you a stowaway, miss? You know what we do with stowaways down here, right?"

"Don't get me wrong, Knox. I love my job. This post is amazing pay-out-wise. Now, having said that, being a marine does you jack-and-shit to impress women who are ALSO in the military. I try that lookat-me-all-strong-and-respectful shit around a girl down here I'll get kicked in the balls." He scratches the back of his head and looks back to Lola on his side. "I've done thirty miles, yeah, don't let this guy fool you. It's something that if you've done it once you've hated it, but if you have to do it over and over again you tell people it's not so bad so that you can keep your mind off of it. It's bad. Oh, it's very bad." Noble replies to Lola, accepting the new drinks and arranging them at the bar. He looks to Knox on his right and then Lola on his left, sizing the two of them up. Lola wants to know about the MPs? "Why, are you a stowaway, miss? You know what we do with stowaways down here, right?" He smirks, puffing his chest a little. "Were you aware that I'm a marine? Do you…need some protecting?"

Lola doesn't seem too surprised by Theo's sudden exit. She catches Knox's blink after it, and says quietly, "Theo's like thigh high stockings in that way. Easy on, easy off, always fabulous." The words are matter-of-fact, accompanied by a little smile. She bunks down next to the ECO, after all. Regarding the thirty miles, she mms, "Oh, walking. Yeah, well, if there's snacks. Snacks might power me though thirty miles, if there are those little fruit ones shaped like grape bunches." It's Lola's turn to grin as Knox and Noble discuss prestige with womenfolk. She looks between them, after a big old gulp of her drink is sucked back, interested in the answer to such a question.

The stowaway thing passes by without remark, but Noble's puffy-chest intonation catches Lola in mid-swallow, and she cough-inhales at the same time. "Glarble." That might have been a word, but it comes out like a gargle with a little brew spillage down her chin. Prestige at work. Or maybe it's a reaction to the taste of whatever the frak is in the mug, all rolled up into one moment of really great timing.

Knox bends his head forward at being called-out, looking loooong into the abyss of his beer while it looks back into him. "Its not /that/ bad," he whispers, largely to himself. "Just takes practice." He takes another sip of his brew and looks back to Lennox and nods. "Yeah. Its stuff like powerbars dipped in peanut butter from a baggie. Eat a bag of something. Chocolate is nice. Its a good distraction, too." He watches the beer slip and tries to refrainfrom smiling. He fails.

Ella walks in with a curious look on her face. A first-timer, one might surmise. She makes her way over to the bar, right about when Lola nearly chokes on her drink. "I can't tell if that's a good or bad sign about the booze here," she remarks with a chuckle.

Bennett trudges into the rec centre from the complex's living quarters, and heads for the bar like most others. She's dressed a little more spartan this evening, in fatigues and combat boots with a N A V Y sweatshirt thrown over top. The hood's up, though who knows what her chances are of remaining incognito here for long.

"Oh, not it's not the beer, miss. I just told her that on my colony I'm what's considered attractive and she couldn't hold her shit in. I know, right? I don't get it either." Noble fires off quickly to Ella with a smirk. Who's Ella? He doesn't know her, but it's what she gets alongside a wave towards the bar to join them. The more the merrier. He then points at Lola and gives her some angry-daddy eyes. "Little girl you swallow that frakking drink."

Coughing out a little cigarette smoke, he looks over to Knox and loudly CLAPS the man on the back. "Knoxey, let's talk. You're in a bar talking about 30 mile rucks and the nutritional supplements required to keep your energy levels where they need to be to keep your queludes in the righ—-GET LAID. Damn, man." He laughs, offering him a cigarette. "No one likes that shit, or are you one of those guys with a girl back home waiting for him?"

Bennett grins a little as she overhears some of the conversation at the bar. Namely, that coming from Noble, whom she gives a brief once-over as she slides onto a stool. "Glass of water with a slice of lemon," she tells the fellow behind the bar while tugging off her hood. "I guess this is where the action is tonight," as an aside to Lennox. "Having a good time?" Though she speaks to the girl, her gaze lingers on Knox.

"Water?" Noble blinks, smiles, but holds a finger towards Bennet. He'll deal with her in a moment.

Knox snorts out a quick laugh at Ellas remark and lifts the beer a bit in salute towards her before taking a sip. Bennett is spied for a sec while Noble addresses him and he looks back. By the end, Coop looks guilty and nods. "Yeah, sorry. Work is my life. I don't get out a lot." As if that isn't obvious. "Nah, no girl back home. Got one here." He wets his lips, finally a larger smile creeping onto his faceas he looks back to the beer. He can feel a bit of the weight of Bennett's gaze and he glances up to her then back to his drink — which he promptly hides his face behind with another long sip.

Lola claps a hand over her mouth, soaking up some of the spillage with her wooly fingerless glove. She splattered it down her wool coat, too, but that seems to pass her notice. There's a wave of her other hand, and she swallows before she speaks. Her cigarette burns, unloved, perched on the edge of the bar. "Yes." She coughs out, and this is most assuredly to Ella. You can tell because she looks right at her with a sheepish little smile. Bennett's chance of the incognito pubcrawl os directly proportional to the amount of brew Lola glugs down to the dark depths of her tummy. She's just about to go in for a second swill when Noble gives her the stern command. She eyes him, shakes her head, and tries again. Success! "… A hike would be good. Maybe not a thirty mile one, but." She glances over to Knox, and wipes her other hand along her neck. His smile reminds her there's probably still beer spillage. She coughs lightly and is caught mid gesture by Captain St. Clair. Uh. Navy sweatshirt. Navy sweatshirt. Casual, right. One can almost see her wheels turning, as she tries to decide what she should call Bennett in this very social instance. Normally, it would be the callsign, but if she says Bennett's, then Bennett will say hers. And someone might ask. "… Hi!" Her methods are simple, but pure. She does not touch the 'laying' convo going on between the two marines. No, nope. Didn't hear it.

Ella seems content to join them at the bar, even though she doesn't know any of them. "That, I find impossible to believe," she remarks back to Noble. That he's the epitome of attractiveness, or that Lennox couldn't believe it? Her smirk indicates it might be either. "So what's good here?" she wonders aloud.

Well, it's probably safe to say that Bennett's not Knox's girl. Frat rules aside, she's just plain giving him the stinkeye at the moment — or her version of it, which mostly involves her lips being pressed together into a faintly disapproving line. Lennox's chirp disrupts her thoughts, and she turns to give the girl a crooked little smile. "Hi, yourself. I'll take that as a yes." A couple of paper napkins are tugged out of the spring-loaded holder between them, and slid across the bar to Lola.

"Well, suit yourself man, I get your life being your work, but sooner or later you're going to retire, and you'll want a life to spend that sweet-ass pension on." Noble replies to Knox, giving the man a little shrug as he reaches out for his shotglass. Paired with the drag he takes off of his cigarette, he's well along his way to spending his own pension check on liver surgery. "Just think about that shit. You'll be fine."

Ladies. Noble lifts his head and looks over towards Lola, Bennett, and Ella. One. Two. Three. "They're multiplying." He says to himself, an inside voice thought uttered through his outside voice. Leaving the cigarette dangling from his lip, he grabs another pint of dark ale, sets it in front of Ella, and then scans their faces. He doesn't know what the drink it. It's on the bar. It's probably not even his but it's mostly untouched. "That shit's the best. Alright, which one of you ordered a water?" His fingertips drum. He narrows his eyes at Bennett. "Was it you?"

The Marine Sergeant can feeeeel that look. Oh, ohhh yes he can. He sets the beer down upon completion and slides it back towards the bartender. "I think that's probably enough for me." Coops handslips into his pocket for a couple cubits which are deposited on the bar and he rises as he pulls on his jacket. "Most of my paycheck goes into savings. Got the truck paid off and everything. Thanks, though. I think I best use my SERE and beat feet. Good talkin atcha Corporal." He clears his throat and moves off. "Rest of you guys have a good night." The jacket is zipped and he's headin for the door, a watch cap being pulled out of a pocket.

Lola nods to Bennett, spider-walking her fingers over to take hold of the offered napkins. "Could go for some mini corndogs." The epitome of disgusting, greasy bar food. She says to Ella, "The best ones are the chewy ones. Look for the dark, thickish drink." Her attention goes from Bennett's expression to Knox, at whom she was looking, so it's easy to catch the comment from Noble, who happens to be sitting right next to her. She shifts a glance at that marine, as his inside voice goes outside. She stares up at him from the next seat. That stare persists, even as she says to Knox, "G'night." She dabs herself off with the napkins. "Sweet dreams." And then she pokes Noble in the arm.

Bennett's expression of consternation is rapidly shifting to amusement as Noble continues to run at the mouth. By the time he's finished, she's had the time to withdraw a clove from the pack in her fatigues pocket, light it, and take a couple of drags. He narrows his eyes at her, and she reaches past him to ash her cig into someone's empty glass. Might be his. She'll never know. "Guilty as charged," she murmurs, plucking the lemon from the rim and squeezing it into the glass of water. "Sergeant," she calls to Knox, as she sees him heading out, "I'd like to speak with you some time. At your leisure."

"Chewy?" Ella echoes in disbelief. "Well, I'll have to take your word for it." She eyes Noble a moment, considering the drink he set before her, and says, "Um. Thanks." Her eyes glance to Knox for a moment after Bennett calls him Sergeant, then she takes a drink of her gifted ale.

Knox stops at the door. Almost made it. He turns and looks over to the woman, not really knowing who this is but she sounds like an officer. "Uh. Right. Any- time. Sir?" He clears his throat and seems to be waiting to see if he is going to be followed out or allowed to escape, inching closer to that exit.

"Yeah, take it easy, Knox." Noble says to his side as the Sergeant takes off. It's one of those muttered yeah mom I'll take out the trash after this game sort of goodbyes. He'll just see the guy later. It's no big deal. Then a poke to his arm distracts him, and he looks down to Lola at his side. He looks to his arm, traces the lightly pushed-in fabric to her hand, then to her stare. "You better not be a creepy one. Alright. I'll get you some corn dogs." Noble winks and then flags down the bartender. Corndogs it is.

"Alright, so…hermmmm." Noble looks over to the three ladies, brushing a hand through his hair. He's…not quite sure what to say, so he bites the inside of his lip and blinks at their faces. "Well aren't you all a bunch of pretty faces hoping to gods I'm not some hornball drunk? I'll get first round, especially since you're cheap to maintain." He points to Bennett, then gives them a wave. "I'm Simon Noble. CMC."

Bennett softens her previous words to Knox with a smile that touches her eyes, and a small shake of her head. "It's Butch." Butch? That one has rookie hazing written all over it, given how unlike her moniker the pilot is. "Cooper, right? It's not a big deal. I just want to chat. Enjoy your evening, Sergeant." And she turns back just in time to catch the 'cheap to maintain' comment from Noble. And merely arches a brow slightly. "Beg your pardon?" Sip, smoke, smoke.

"Water's cheap, miss." Noble fires back to Bennett, matching her brow.

"So is talk," offers the captain in a return volley, hiding her grin in another sip of water.

"Butch." Right. "Okay, Butch. Well, I guess you know where to find me." The JTAC still looks a little busted. Maybe he really is guilty of something. He looks around once more and quietly turns to head off without another word, watchcapbeing pulled on as the door hits his ass on the way out.

"Butch?" Ella can't help but echo with a raised eyebrow. She smirks a bit at the exchange between the other woman and Noble, then offers, "Ella Marts, Corpsman. Nice to meet you."

Lola claims her drink, and takes a breath. She nods quite stoically to Ella. "Chewy," she intones, bringing the mug to her lips and upends the thing in a slow tilt, shooting it as fast as mugs that size can be shot. Not a bad drinker for a small blonde, false starts aside. She settles down from the staring when Noble sets himself on a corndog acquisition mission. Seems all transgressions are forgiven when food is on the line. But then Noble goes ahead with the talkies.

Lola leans over, resting her head against Noble's shoulder. She looks at him with those long lashed, amber colored eyes and says, sweet as you please, "If you hurt my feelings, I'll just take your money, your will to live, and leave you curled up, cold and lonely at the bottom of a trench with… that guy." She points to some random sad-sack looking fellow in the corner, and covers her mouth with her hand to whisper-not-whisper, "How long do their corndogs take? My beer-or-whatever is kicking in." She rights herself and reaches for a mug on the bar. Hope it's not one with a cig floating around in it.

"Total pleasure, Ella. Nice to meet you, too." Noble says with a smile, making a gun-pointer at Bennett as he rises from his barstool. She's quick on the draw, and he seems to appreciate it. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a paper food voucher and hands it over to the bartender, quickly making sure the order for the corn dogs is put in.

"Alright, so let's be cool here. You guys came down here for a good time. I…" He puts his hand to his chest. "…came here for a good time. So, if some guy's getting on your nerves and you need help getting a creeper off of you, just introduce them to me and tell them I'm your buddy, Leo. Leo's the code word. Likewise if some really trampy girl starts trying to get me to buy her drinks I'll completely respect you for dragging me away. I might whine a little, but that's life. I'm a guy and we go for that. Yes I know it's stupid. It's a lifetime of conditioning. So you…lady." Noble wraps an arm around Lola's shoulder, giving her a squeeze. "Don't have to worry about that sort of thing. I'll never truly get it, but I've been trained. We'll have a good time tonight." After another squeeze, shit she's a stranger to him, he playfully tugs her knit cap over her eyes and rises from his seat.

"I'll be back in a minute. I'm going somewhere you can't follow." He says, passing them.

"Butch," Bennett repeats, blue eyes alighting upon Ella this time. "My call sign. I fly the raptors." She dimples a grin, glances briefly across to Lola as if to make sure her little broodling is not too inebriated, then finally looks up as Noble makes to stand. "I… am not sure what to say to all that. But have a good evening." That, at least, seems mostly genuine — if a bit tongue in cheek. "Don't get lost." Wherever it is he's off to. Shaking her head in bemused disbelief, she returns to her smoke and her perfectly acceptable glass of water.

"—-ATHROOM." A voice that sounds like Nobles gets out over the crowd as he slips out of earshot, probably a little louder than necessary. He gets a strange look from a nearby table.

Ella's eyebrows arch upward at Noble's long explanation. "Wow," is all she says, bemused. She says nothing as he wanders off to the restroom or wherever, but looks then to Butch. "Oh, that's cool. Er, sir." She's not used to dealing with officers in such an informal setting, so she sounds somewhat uncertain.

"How will I know if the girl is trampy," comes Lola's very serious question. "You seem like — Hey!" She reaches up to fix her cap, shoving it up her forehead in a move that serves to further wreck any semblance of order. Her honey blonde bangs stick out in all directions from her forehead. She huffs a breath and reaches for her smoke that's almost entirely burned down to nothing (and this isn't either of the brands she's been seem smoking before). A long, precariously balanced ash settles to the floor as it's unceremoniously knocked free. "Never had a pub safe word. I got bony elbows for that." As Noble's already zoom-dashed by the time she rights her hatwear, she's left huffing another breath and tossing a look to Bennett. Like, Mom, the marine touched me. Burp. Lola blinks. Then she looks down at her cigarette, as if surprised it's nearly down to the filter. Sigh.

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