AWD #324: The People in Your Neighborhood
The People in Your Neighborhood
Summary: Bennett and Westbrook meet for the first time. Westbrook chooses not to rat on her fellow Raptors
Date: 11/May/2016
Related Logs: None
Bennett Lana 
Raptor Squadron - Deck 2 - Battlestar Orion
The berthings for the ship's Air Wing are the same that 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.
AWD #324

The evening shift change brings with it a smattering of sweaty, sore aircrew eager to be pretty much anywhere other than a bus for a few hours. Captain St. Clair's no exception; she drags herself in along with her backseater and - counter to the norm - copilot. Both go their separate ways, while Bennett pauses in front of her locker with her helmet dangling from her fingers in order to ponder the note on it. It reads: 'spilled coffee on your bunk. SORRY. - anonymous coward'

Seated across the hall from Bennett and her locker is a top bunk that was unclaimed until just a few days ago. Freshly draped in bedclothes and toting a mattress and pillow deemed the lowest quality by the vultures who ransack old bunks for better bed-swag, the light is on and the windows are open. The long ponytail and skinny frame of Lana Westbrook leans out, FTL manual on her lap, to blink down to Bennett. "I didn't see who it was." Lana offers from above, without being asked. "But it looks pretty catastrophic, sir."

It is pretty catastrophic. The captain looks over to the bunk in question - hardly the most luxurious of those in raptor country, though certainly not the worst - to survey the damage. There's coffee dripping from her bedframe onto the deck, and soaking a good portion of her pillow and ratty pink blanket that looks like it's been hauled with her for a few tours of duty (and likely has). "That is unfortunate," notes she with a slight pursing of her lips. Then she pivots, blue eyes landing squarely on Lana herself. "Hello there. I don't believe we've met." The book is noted, with some amusement.

"What I don't get is how it's still dripping? I just came back from mess twenty minutes ago and saw the note. Puh-lease don't think I was snooping." Lana replies with a quaint smirk. She slips a notebook into the larger book and slaps it closed, then swings out in a pair of regulation jogging shorts and her dual tanks, climbing down to the mat below with bared feet. Her ponytail whips about as she turns quickly, brushing her palm off on her shorts, then offering it to Bennett. "I am your neighbor and Ensign Lana Westbrook. I just came on from Crandall on Pike, which…makes you my new boss."

Plink.. plink.. plink. The coffee drips, and Bennett watches Lana swing down from her bunk like she's trying to make sense of something. "You're very young," is what she comes up with after a moment or two. "And this must be a very strange first impression you are getting of me." Her nose crinkles a little when she smiles, and takes two steps forward to offer her still-gloved hand. "Welcome aboard, Westbrook. I assume you have spoken to the requisition officer about your supplies, already. Seeing as you have that book we are all forced to read in first year."

Lana takes Bennett's hand and squeezes it for a one pump shake, then lets her hand free. Stepping back to clear the walkway as much as she can, Lana presses her hands behind her and leans against her ladder. "I'm, well, there isn't a lot of picking to be done on Picon, but they thought I was good enough to send up." Lana blushes weakly and jerks a thumb up towards her bunk. "Thanks, though. I promise I'm not an idiot, but I think Squire's going to bleed me dry if I don't memorize that book front and back by the time she's ready for me, so I'm cramming for the sims. So…if you forgive me for being young I won't hold this coffeepocalypse against you either?" Lana asks, eyes hopeful.

"We'll see," replies the captain softly in regards to 'good enough', watching Lana retreat back to her bunk's ladder. Mention of coffeepocalypse causes her to laugh. "I certainly do not hold youth against anyone. We have the opportunity to teach you good habits; regardless, there is no fleet academy anymore, so we must make do." She winks, and turns away finally to toss down her helmet and begin stripping out of her flight suit. She isn't particularly shy, but then again, shared quarters has been a fact of life for her for a very long time. "So what should we do with the perpetrator?"

"So I've been told. Squire gave me this quick rundown about not being the weakest link. I've made it this far, I'm not gonna get lazy." Lana offers and turns her side to Bennett. Not quite accustomed to the packed in bunk life, it's a shred of unnecessary privacy, but as Lana shoulders her bunk, she has no real need to watch Bennett undress, either. "Well?" Lana's voice goes high at the end. She sucks her lip between her teeth and glances over to Butch. "When I was in high school," Which couldn't have been more than a year ago. "Someone replaced my pillow with shaving cream. It looked totally normal, but I dropped onto it and it exploded." A beat. "Then I had to clean it up."

Bennett undresses quickly and perfunctorily, and pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a tee without bothering with underthings for the time being. She's going to hit the showers in a moment, anyway, one presumes. Noting the averted gaze, she points out candidly, "It isn't a striptease, Westbrook." The recounting of being pranked causes her to chuckle. "That isn't bad, actually. But it doesn't answer my question." She closes her locker door and turns back around. "How do we deal with.." The note is turned over in her hand. "Anonymous coward?"

"Wh-?" Lana blinks and looks across to Bennett not quite understanding, at least until her brows shoot wide and she scoffs in reply. Her face scrunches up in a duck lip and she rolls her eyes at her Squadrom Commander. "I know that but -like-, whatever, you know what I mean." Lana explains it all with a dismissive wave and teenager logic. She tucks her arms in a fold beneath her breasts and turns to Butch, looking down to the card. "Oh, yeah! Who the frak calls themselves a coward anyway? And how does coffee get onto a top bunk? Someone totally pranked you." Lana pauses, brows lowering in deep thought. "Is this a test?" Lana locks eyes with Bennett. "You'd have to file a complaint with the CAG or cut off coffee in the bunkhouse until someone fesses up?"

Bennett looks unfazed by the teenager logic. Amused, but unfazed. The woman's old enough to conceivably have children of her own nearing Lana's age, so perhaps this is old hat to her. "That is not a bad idea," she admits, when cutting off coffee is mentioned. Is it a test? She only smiles when asked. "Anyway, I have a mess to deal with, and a hot shower calling my name. But I will leave you with a couple of guidelines to consider: number one, never throw a squadmate under the bus. And number two, use caution when pissing off your squadron commander. How you do the balancing act is up to you." She winks, and turns to pad off, barefoot, for the head.

"Oh I totally aced that test, didn't I?" Lana laughs, squeaking at the end as she claps her fingers together in front of her mouth. She steps back and around, skinny legs stamping like a baby deer's hooves, to give Bennett some room. She lifts a hand in a tap of two fingers to her forehead and shooes Butch off. "Thank you for the advice, Boss. I'm gonna stay here and hit the books before tucking in. Let me know if you need a hand with the mattress later, kay?" Grabbing her ladder, Lana begins to ascend.

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