AWD #157: Yellow Nail Polish
Yellow Nail Polish
Summary: Butch and Milkshake talk pedicures and mission strategy in the head.
Date: 12/06/2013
Related Logs: None
Bennett Ygraine 
The Head
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.
AWD #157

The head is mostly abandoned at this time of day; shift change was half an hour ago, and most crew have either come or gone. Or both, given it's one of few places with a modicum of privacy on the ship. Bennett, wrapped in a towel and little else, is settled at one of the benches with her hair twisted up in a damp pile atop her head, painting her toenails bright yellow. She's humming a little tune — a Leonisian folk ditty — passingly well.

Ygraine strolls into head head quietly - she was delayed after her CAP on the deck to talk through a problem with one of the orange jumpsuits. Her brows lift in surprise upon hearing the song. "Oh hey, I know that one." She starts to sing along. Also passingly well, but she won't be winning Caprican Idol.

"I wanna walk with you on a cloudy daa-aay, in fields where the yellow grass grows knee-high.." Bennett pauses, dabs on a little more paint, then flicks her eyes up to note Ygraine's entrance. "Good evening, Vashti." The cap of her polish is screwed back onto the bottle, and she wiggles her toes as she observes her handiwork thus far. "Did you have a good flight?"

"Good. Boring. Which I'm coming to learn isn't necessarily a bad thing." Yggy grins as she heads to her locker and opens it up. "We'll get all the action we can handle when we get to the Picon offensive, yeah? Besides, it gives me a chance to work on the Pallas dome problem."

"Have you had any more thoughts on that?" enquires St. Clair, resuming her soft humming as she places her left foot down and begins on the right. Gods know why she bothers painting her toenails when she wears combat boots for the majority of the day.

Ygraine would do it because it makes her feel good. A morale booster. She would know the color is there, and that's the person to do it for, right? Really, Yggy's only criticism would be -yellow?-. She starts peeling off clothes, unharried by the presence of the woman nearby. "I got a lotta thoughts on that. The more options we got, the quicker we can process the ex-fil. So it'll take Cato's idea and mine, too. The real gamble is keeping the skies clear of raiders, and runnin' th'risk of if the vipers gotta shoot 'em down, if they don't report in, is that as likely t'draw attention."

As if Bennett can read her squaddie's mind, she murmurs, "This is all I have left from my apartment on Caprica. Real bottom of the barrel, you know?" She dabs, and listens, and pauses to take a pull from the cigarette dangling between two fingers. Maybe it keeps her hands steady. "Do we know if there is or has been much of a raider presence there?" she asks. "Also, if any of those transports are jump-capable, we might be able to get them in and out without parking Orion in orbit like a giant target."

"Ya know, there's a luxury liner that's been functionin' as a sort of barter center in th'fleet and a lot's been sent down t'Piraeus. Cubits are still good and if ya got stuff t'barter that's better. We should fly over and get ya some restock." Ygraine offers as she collects her shower gear. "We don't need Orion t'move. We get transport and cargo ships t'land on th'pads once they're fixed and have people move onto 'em wearin' suits t'protect against the environment. We split our raptors between the smaller hatch seals that are privately owned doin' back and forth trips, and we collect th'rest usin' one-way exits from th'dome itself by way of boarding charges while huggin' the dome surface and usin' them t'get people through."

"I suppose we could run mission control from a raptor," Bennett muses, glancing up at Ygraine thoughtfully. "It sounds like a good plan. It does. The trick with an NEO is to get in and get out, quickly. I wonder if there is some way for us to do a.. well, a dry run. Most of the squadron is not experienced with precision airlifts in potential combat zones."

Ygraine taps her chin. "Got more problems than that. An engineering team will need t'work on those landin' pads… I suspect they'll need a day at least t'get 'em ready and we also need t'make sure their work isn't spotted. The landin' pads got blown up by th'Cylons in the first place."

"Well, perhaps we might be able to drop them off and let the civilians assemble them?" Bennett proposes, dipping her brush and going for a second coat of polish. "Another thought is that the cylons are sure to send a fairly limited force out to sniff around, if they suspect something is going on. Since we already anticipate this, it should not be too difficult to have a few vipers waiting to clean them up. Though time will still be of the essence, of course."

Ygraine peaks at that. "Hey, that's a thought. Surely they got their own people. We could do the flybys with raptors. But we gotta make sure they got th'people for it. Still runs the risk of what happens if th'raiders don't report in. Maybe we should spend a few days observin', see if there's a pattern for when they check in and try t'work between intervals."

Bennett grins, blue eyes sliding up to Ygraine again, then back down to her precision work on her nails. "Bingo," she agrees. "My thoughts exactly. Or, if Command won't commit to a raptor out there for that kind of timeframe, we might get similar intelligence from the civilians. I don't know if there is a radio tower or two down there.."

"We established communications on the original run." Ygraine says, enthused. "At th'end of it all, actual ex-fil can't take more than an hour. And we gotta be prepared t'cut our losses if th'Cylons show up in force." She taps her lips with her thumb, thoughtful. "Hopefully we can drop th'material without breakin' th'goods."

Bennett nods slightly in agreement with Ygraine's estimate, and is silent for a few moments while she puts the finishing touches on her polish. "Yes," she murmurs softly, screwing the cap back on the bottle and tossing it in her bag. "We may not get everyone out. I think it will be important to make that clear to everyone involved." She watches Ygraine carefully while she speaks, cigarette touched to her lips one last time, then extinguished. "Talk to Engineering. Talk to Cato. See what they think." A warm smile, encouraging.

Ygraine grins at that. "Frak. I miss being your ECO, Major. But they're startin' t'rotate th'ECOs more often and with Centerfold movin' t'viper pilotin' anyway…I think we should get th'band back together."

The older woman barely manages to stifle a chuckle at Ygraine's first few words. Grace under fire; composure even when she's blushing ever so slightly. "I think.." she begins, uncoiling from the bench and pulling to her feet in a singularly smooth motion. "..that we will have to wait and see where the chips fall. But for the record, Vashti, you are a fantastic backseater." Carefully, carefully, she slips her feet into a pair of flip flops, and prepares to make the short sprint back to pilot country without a superior officer spotting her in naught but a towel.

Ygraine is unable to resist grinning broadly. "Thanks, sir!" she calls out, unable to keep from laughing at Bennett makes her sprint before she heads to the showers.

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