PWD #02: Shared Experiences
PWD #02: Shared Experiences
Summary: Late night at the Head, Sera and Simon discuss recent events and learn that they may have had the same dream.
Date: 04/01/2012 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: None
Noble Sera 
Head - Battlestar Orion
The Head is the area on the Battlestar to find showers and bathrooms and this is one of many throughout the ship. Male and female crew members share the area equally as space is at a premium on fleet ships. There are half a dozen shower stalls and enclosed toilets as well as urinals along the wall. The room, an L shape dogleg, has the entrance open into the sink area. There are four sinks on the left and four on the right sitting back to back in the middle of the room.
Jan 04, 2005

Fresh out of the shower, Simon Noble quickly dries and makes his way across the floor to the bench where he's kept his belonging. Slipping on a fresh pair of boxers and a pair of olive-colored off-duty cargo pants, he sets his wet towel to hang on a rack and nearly completes his grooming ritual. Leaving his tank-tops to hang over his shoulder, he grabs his shaving kit and pads across the floor to one of the mirrored sinks. Chin up, he brushes a hand over his neck, testing his two-days growth. Yes. It's time to shave.

Sera, by contrast, is fully clothed. Of course she is. She's coming in from the hallway, carrying her towel, a fresh change of clothes, and her toiletries. Frankly, it looks like she could use it. Once again, she's crawled into her hideous grey sweats, which were apparently issued in a size or two bigger than she really ought to be wearing. Once again, her eyes are red and her nose is a bit swollen. One hand rubs at the back of her head as she shuffles towards the showers in her flip-flops. (College dorm style! Awww, yeah!)

Dropping some water into the basin, Simon is about to start lathering his face with shaving cream when Sera walks in. Eyes up and over the mirror, his brows knit together at the sight of her, and although the sight of her will likely be better once she's had a shower he can see that she's had a long night. Frowning, he hangs his tank tops from a rung near the washbasin and starts to lather his face.

"Hey Ess-Jay." He says, loud enough to be heard.

"Hey, Simon," Sera replies quietly, dredging her eyes up from the tile floor. They flick over to him from behind a curtain of hair, as she's already tugging hers down out of the messy knot she's sporting. It's not really a hairstyle, so much as demonstration that she's pretty much given up for the day. There's a smile that she forces for his sake — one of those totally not feelin' it expressions, but hey, at least she's trying. "What's the matter? One of your girls complain about you givin' her rug burn on the inside of her thighs?"

His eyes droop down to her lips, taking in that weak, exhausted smile of hers. Letting her see that he's noticing, his eyes sharpen in recognition, calling it all for what it is. He gives her his own flat-lipped smile in return. "You know how it is. Met a girl that doesn't shave often and my cheek got stuck like velcro." He replies flatly, smile taking a soft uptick before he turns toward his mirror. She's in the reflection still, but he takes his eyes off of her to get back to work.

"Last few days I've been having trouble sleeping. I thought I'd get cleaned up before bed and see if that helped." He admits, smearing the shaving cream onto his face and jaws.

"You, too, huh?," she asks as she sets down her bag and pulls her towel off her shoulder, hanging it up on one of the hooks outside a shower stall. There's something else, too, but its muffled by her pulling her sweatshirt over her head, covering her mouth. It gets turned totally inside-out in the process and she frowns slightly once its off of her, trying to stuff the arms back into themselves to right it. Even with one of her ubiquitous black sports bras under her shirt, she's careful to keep her back turned to him while she's changing. 'Cause yeah, she remembers how that went last time.

Backs to each other, Sera is blocked from view of most of his tattoos, but is in clear view of his ironic Cylon shoulder tattoo. He takes note of her movement, but doesn't bother looking to her. She remains a blur in his peripheral vision, a blurry and undressing blur, but a blur nonetheless.

He sets the shaving cream aside and washes his hands clean, and then fishes out his rather high-tech looking razor from his bag. Complete with quad-razor technology, he turns it over in his hands to inspect it before he takes the first scrape against his skin. The razor cuts a path horizontally beneath his jaw, and then is dipped into the water to be cleaned.

"Yeah…me too. How you holdin up?" He asks, stepping to the side of actually asking what's wrong with her. He has an idea. He's been there for part of it.

"Ohhh, you know how it goes. A half gallon of ice cream and some horrible chick flick marathon, a week of not washin' my hair and swearin' that this time, I'm goin' to let myself get really fat. Maybe then I'll stop feelin' like the massive bitch that just cut loose the guy every girl's supposed to want." There's a shrug, the non-committal sort that leaves it open to questioning how much of that she really means and how much of it's hyperbole.

She then pulls a veritable horde of bath products out of her kit, all squeezed down into tiny little travel bottles. Seriously, it looks like she wiped out the samples from the cosmetic counter at one of the department stores in Boskirk. Shampoo. Conditioner. Body wash. Face wash. Exfoliant. And. And. And. Honestly, does she even know what all that junk is for? She certainly seems to think its important, as she's checking the labels to make sure she has the right ones.

"It's totally goin' to help me sleep tonight. I can just tell." A pause. "Maybe I'll go down to medbay and get somethin'. One of the chaplains said she'd clear me for somethin' mild."

"Oh, Ess-Jay, don't do that. One minute you're getting a little something from the medbay for sleep and then the next thing you know you're out in front of CIC with a will breakdance for Ambrosia sign. Then comes the strange dog that follows you around. After that, it's hiding the expensive sandwich behind the garbage can so that the people you're grifting can't see that you're clearly not needing help…" His words trail off as he silences for the next scrape of the razor across the skin. With as much talking as he does, he's got to be careful when shaving. His jaw is everywhere.

Letting out a quiet sigh, he dares a glance to her in the mirror before turning back to his work. "So, let me offer you a choice. I could either tell you about all of these stupid dreams I've been having lately and give you a chance to give me shit and tell me that they mean that I'm gay… or I shut my ass up and let you vent, that is, if you're interested in even venting at me after what happened with the bunk and all."

She's folding her clothes into a neat pile, despite the fact that they're dirty and she's about to change into a different set, anyway. The shirt she pulled off first, then the matching sweatpants. Her flip-flops clopped against the floor when she peeled them off, but now they're being added to her collection of things. "Right. The guy that's pretty much ear-deep in poon all the time. Totes gay. Big secret. Huge scandal. The ship will be talkin' for months."

Climbing into the shower, she yanks the cover over the door closed behind her, concealing her from view. There's no sound of running water. Not yet. "It wasn't your fault, Simon. We talked, cleared all of that up. It still didn't make a difference, alright?"


The sound of a razor being swished in the water rings across the tiled Head, lightly echoing off of the walls. The room does little to hide any conversation.

"No, I guess it doesn't, does it?" Simon replies quietly, turning his attention back to the next scrape at hand. "Doesn't make it any less unfortunate for you guys. For what it's worth, I'm sorry it went down the way that it did." He admits.


"What's all about me being eyeballs-deep in women, anyhow? You sure seem to have a rather big non-gay opinion about a guy that spends most of his time hanging out with girls painting their nails and playing frakkin' video games with the new recruits." His voice registers a weak grin on it. "Let's not talk about my dating life. It's a nightmare. Trust me."

"Yeah, well, you don't really go askin' a guy like that — one who's sweet, and honest, and knows what he wants, and is ready for somethin' serious — to wait around for you for at least a year, maybe four, while you get your shit together. Another time, maybe, and another place, and I would've thought hard about givin' him what he tried real hard to pretend he wasn't lookin' for," she says softly, with a catch in her throat.

It's followed by a squeak, then sound of the water s-s-s-sp-puttering to life. Blissfully, it drowns out the possibility of conversation for a little while, and thus her need to try to keep her voice steady. There's soon steam rising from the shower stall she's stepped into, the heat cranked way, way up.

"I dunno. I don't see anything fundamentally wrong with the guy. He's never done anything wrong to me, even though him and I have our issues." Simon replies, lifting his chin to scrape upwards towards it. His voice is strained by the way his throat is pulled against. "I dated this girl once, not long after Fiona? Really sweet girl, but she was one of those go-getter types." He snaps his fingers three times to emphasize his point. "Gotta have this, gotta do this, gotta do that. I think maybe it was because Fiona dumped me for being this nowhere guy that I sought out and got myself a girl that I thought might motivate me, you know?"


"She spun me around pretty bad. Two days in and she was leaving stuff over at my dad's house. She wanted a spare key…she wanted to hang out with my stepmom…" Simon shakes his head. "It was just hard feeling like I was the last guy on the wrong side of a dodgeball court, exhausting myself trying to recover. She didn't give me any frakkin time to think."

It's hard to hear her over the running water, even with the echo of an empty tiled room working to their advantage. "It wasn't like I was just lookin' for a frak or somethin'. If that was all I was after, I wouldn't have bothered jumpin' through hoops or playin' coy about it. I'm not some psycho hosebeast, so I'm sure I would've managed. I would've been happy to spend the cruise with him; I couldn't think about about after."

Spluuuuuuuuurt. Shampoo bottle squeezed. It's a charming sound — except not at all. "Why are you always tryin' to define yourself by what kind of girl you're with, Simon?"

"I don't know. Chapters of my life, I suppose?" Simon's reply comes a few seconds later, no doubt trying to find the best way to word it. When he's not quick on the draw it's either for good reason or because he's doing his best to not lie.

Frowning to his reflection, he turns his face from side to side to inspect his work and then starts up towards his sideburns, cleaning them up with the razor.

"It's the people that I let in that change me, Sera. I hope I change them a little bit too, I guess. I'd frakkin' hate a relationship that wasn't worth remembering and didn't sting when it ended. Otherwise it'd have just been a lie, you know?" The water swishes with the razor once more. "I guess I figure it'll just keep working that way till I find one that doesn't go away, then she's the one that gets the biggest chunk of me."

"Now there's a pitch to give a girl. You're stickin' with her, 'cause she hasn't dumped you yet." There's a pause, and a little bit of a laugh, which bounces off of the walls of the shower stall and the surrounding room. "Don't go into sales after you're out, yeah? You'll be well and truly fraked, then."

Soon, the air starts to smell like peaches. It's all of the bath products she brought in there, mixing with the hot water. There's suds around her feet, all that's visible of her on the other side of the door. "The rest of it doesn't sound so bad, though," she admits quietly. Parts of it may be swallowed up by that rain-shower sound.

"Oh come on, no I didn't mean it like that!" Noble guffaws, pausing mid scrape to avoid cutting himself. It doesn't work out the way he planned, of course, because sure as day a small drop of blood forms beneath the white cream on his chin. "I just, you know, it's like the food chain back in high school, the bird eats the grain and the cat eats the bird and the car hits the cat and then the Aerilonians eat the cat off of the road? Dating happens till it doesn't need to happen anymore. Sooner or later you just…stop wanting to date other people. BAM, you're a couple. One, Two, Ten and you're driving a minivan."


"That stuff smells good." Noble side-comments, taking note of the suds around her feet before going back to his work. "Anyway, do I really come across as being some sort of man-whore? Where's this phantom list of hearts I've broken anyhow?"

"Ohh, come on, Simon." Her eyeroll is practically audible. Those pretty browns are, no doubt, rolling so far back in her head there's a real risk of them getting stuck back there. "You've fraked at least two girls since the start of the cruise, and had another two get into a fistfight over you. If you were a chick, there'd be "For a Good Time, Call Simon" messages about you scrawled all over the walls of Checkpoint Charlie's by now."

Sppppppluuuuuuuurt. Conditioner, probably. It's got that wet, gloppy sound as it hits her palm in globs. "And believe it or not, love, not everyone directs their life primarily by inertial drift and acceptin' the supposedly inevitable. Some people actually, like, plan things. Pursue them. It's not all, "Ohhhh, frak. The rubbers broke." Your dedication to permanently headin' in the same direction is admiral, though. There's a certain unseen persistance in your slacker bullshit."

"Oh don't you eyeroll at me, Sera. I had no control over that fistfight and it's not something that I orchestrated. Anna and I got along great and she requested we call it off so that she could pursue her long lost boyfriend during the mid-point break. How was I supposed to know she was re-interested at Charlie's that night? That's not fair and you know it." Simon replies, face to the side while he inspects the left side of his face. He turns it over and starts with the right.

"Besides, I refuse to believe girls leave that kind of graffiti. That's a total dude move." He laughs, voice hardly audible over the flow of the water. "You wanna know what my big drawback is as a boyfriend, guy, whatever? I don't plan stuff. I don't break out the notebook and do that whole by one year he should know if he wants to get married thing. I just…something about all of that seems disingenuine, and some people live and die by that stuff. It's not that I might not be thinking it or whatever, but my default mode is to just, you know, enjoy the now. I'm not saying wait for the rubber to break then call it love. Frak that. But you know what? If a girl told me she was thinking about breaking up with me because I wasn't talking marriage after a year, that's a bad sign right? I mean, if it's about forever and it's what you want, why lead off with your justifications for cutting it off or else, right?"

"You wanna hear heading in the same direction forever, Sera? You should hear about this dream I had that you, my mom, and damn near everyone I know was in. Long walk. Highway. SpOoOoOoky shit. Yes…this is me trying to change subjects."

"If you had listened to me whine about my love-life, or current total lack thereof, we wouldn't have to be dissectin' yours," she calls out. "Next time, be sure to carry a strategic reserve of tissues and chocolate ice cream. As it stands, you totally suck at bein' girlfriends." There's a soft snicker, before tacking on, "It probably has something to do with that whole 'havin' a cock' thing you insist on."

The lock slides back and a be-toweled Sera is prancing out of the shower, her wet hair twisted in a dripping rope that trails down her back. The shower hasn't improved her red, puffy eyes, but she looks a little bit less exhausted. And that whole swollen nose thing has gone away. Rifling through her things results in a pair of knickers, which she wiggles on underneath the terrycloth towel, settling them into place with an elastic snap.

"But seriously. Go ahead and tell me about your creepy dream."

Simon only notices a little bit, catching sight of her wiggling dance out of the corner of his eye while he continues to shave. With the left half of his face still left to go, he returns to his work with a smile on his face.

"Ess-Jay, if I didn't suck at being a girlfriend, then you would be asking me if I were gay. Just sayin'" He winks to the mirror, hoping she catches it. It looks every bit a vain wink at himself. "Anyway, the dream…"


"I was driving this car down an old deserted highway and it lost all of its gas, so I had to get out. You were there, crying underneath a tree. You were dying of thirst and I was still doing pretty good, so we both started walking, hoping to find water and we found this old lady, who I think was your grandma. After her, we found all of these other people like my mom, dad, cousins, your folks, and they were all talking about going to a river. Sounds a good idea right? Wrong…" He keeps going on, trampling all over the story like he's discussing a movie he saw last week. "…turns out this river I think was a Hades thing, because it was behind a door and you figured it out first and started telling me that some of the people were still alive. So we started trying to hold them back, but there were maybe seven, eight hundred people and they were pushing us towards this door in the side of a mountain where the entrance to the river was."

His voice turns down just a little bit, frowning. "My dad and mom, I was trying like hell to hold them back. Kicking and screaming, trying to keep sight of you thrashed me around and I woke up."


She's in the process of pulling on her shorts. It's those damned teeny-tiny ones that she seems to cut half her issued sweats up into, or maybe waits for them to get a rip in them before deciding to 'save' them. There's really not much point in her pulling the stupid things on over her underwear. They may rest higher up, might even cover her hips better, but the hem's all of about an inch lower. 'Course, being as she's squirting a pale line of cream onto one calf as she listens, that may be why she brings them to the shower.

There's one hand holding her towel in place as she listens to him talk, the other trying to rub the moisturizer in. "Frakin' exhaust lines," Sera mutters to herself. She'd have burn marks all over her legs if she didn't take the time.

By the time he's done, though, her concentration is ruined. She's stopped moving, instead staring at his back and his reflfection in the mirror. "That's not funny, Simon. Were you goin' through my bunk last night after I left?"

"What?" Simon blinks, turning around to give her one of those what the hell are you talking about looks. His eyes glance down to her leg, then back to hers to find that she's not looking away from him. Oops. He lifts his brows and turns back to his mirror, frowning at a new spot of blood. That's twice he's nicked himself. "Seriously, I'm not kidding, this is a dream I had a couple of days back." He whips the end of the razor into the sink to wash it off. He then leans down and splashes water all over his face to clear away the excess. "Wait, do you have this in a movie or something and maybe you had it on? Maybe that's where it came from? I swear I wasn't in your bunk."

"You weren't goin' through my books?," Sera demands, starting to sound irritated at the prospect of him poking through her personal belongings without asking. After all, she didn't go snooping through his stuff when she brought his laundry back the day that he was in the brig. Black brows knot together, forming this wrinkle in the bridge of her nose. "You weren't readin' anything I wrote?" She puckers her (for once unglossed) lips, like she got a mouthful of lemonade with not nearly enough sugar to make it palatable. "Did you go talkin' to Sister Arden? She asked me who it was, but I didn't want to go tellin' her."

Easily sensing her sudden discomfort, Simon turns around and brings the towel to his face, dabbing away to dry himself. Leaving only a little of the shaving cream behind on the simple, white towel, he gives her an honest shake of his head. "No, no and no." He admits, doing his best to not look guilty. "I give you my word, Sera, I wasn't going through your things and talking to anyone." He blinks, then suddenly tilts his head, frowning as if to say No, you're not suggesting… "Wait, you're not trying to tell me you had this dream too did you? You can't be serious, right?"

"….It's the Styx. The river inside the mouth of the cave, that Charon ferries the dead across once they pay their toll. At the mouth of Hades, which is guarded by Cerberus, the three-headed dog in service to the Lord of the Underworld." Sera's lips press together into a thin line, slowly draining of color until they blend with the rest of her face, then turn whiter still. "I was placed in his service the day I was born, so if you're playin' some kind of trick on me, you better stop. Now. Or it won't be just those nicks that're bleedin', Noble." Yeah. Yeah, she's still convinced he's messing with her. And she doesn't find it funny. At all.

Blinking twice, Simon's lower jaw slaws until his mouth turns agape. Blindly tossing his towel aside, his words catch in his throat until they finally come out as a laugh. "You're frakking with me, right? Seriously, this is because of that Madeline mashed potato thing?"

There's a shake of her head. Sharp. Uneven. Jerky. "As Sister Arden, if you think I'm lyin'. I asked her about it on Sunday, after I woke up from it. Or I can show you myself. I wrote it down. I always write them down. I always have, ever since my mama took me to see the Oracle at Lady Hestia's temple in Hadrian."

"Bullshit." Simon replies, staring at her reflection in the mirror until he can't bear it anymore; he's got to turn around to face her. "My dream was Saturday night, too. I'll take your word for it but if there's ever anything I've ever not been serious about with you, Sera, I swear to the Lords I'm not frakking around. I had that dream on that night." He pauses and runs a hand through his lightly damp hair. "Frak, I need a drink. Is that even possible? I mean that happens sometimes, right?"

"Only when it's true," she whispers, her eyes hitting the floor as soon as those words come tumbling out of her mouth. "I had the same dream as my mama once, the night before one of our dogs died, when I was real little. It's why she took me to the temple, when we finally made the trip to Virgon to get all our papers right. She thought it was a sign."

"No." Simon shakes his head fervently. "That can't be the case." Frustrated, he glances back to the door and steps over to her, reaching out to place a hand on her upper-arm. He lowers his voice to a whisper, telling her things she's not supposed to know.

"Sera, I've been told there's a credible threat. That's why I'm breaking my ass getting the marines ready. Command believes there's a threat. Those rumors might not be just rumors."

"No." She echoes his one word refusal, as part of Sera's amazing capacity for denial. "No. Sister Arden told me that the dream could've been foretellin' an important change in my life. Dreams aren't always literal, and death doesn't always represent death. At least, not literally. Sometimes… sometimes it just means there's a big change comin'. Like today. I wasn't expectin' today." But there's a shiver that runs through her, one that goes all the way through her spine. Hands tighten on her towel, clutching it in place.

"Right, that would be frakking ridiculous. We're being stupid about this." Simon replies, letting go of her arm. When he turns, his wall of tattoos turn with him on his way back over to the sink. The tanktops are lifted from the hook he was hanging them on, and he starts to tug them over his head and onto his torso. "Maybe we're just hanging out too much and Arden's right. Like today. Maybe it just means all of this mobilization shit has us spooked."

"I know they've got us scramblin' down on deck with work they wanted a week ago, and I was on the last cruise. So were you. There's nothin' out here for either of us o have the willies about. There's nothin' out here at all. The Sister was probably right, and I ought to be gettin' better sleep to avoid guilt-drenched ramblin's when I've got nothin' to be guilty about." There's a pause, during which she yanks her sweatshirt on over her towel, letting the latter drop away. "I'm goin' to get somethin' from medbay. I'll see you, alright?"

"Alright, Sera. Don't take too much, alright, and if you get a little extra, feel free to slip it my way." Simon replies, heading back over to the bench where he's set down his boots and laundry bag. "Gods-damned Grandfather Colonial's got me slavin'." He adds, snatching up his gear. It'll be hard enough to sleep as it is. He'll have to try…

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