Brand New Jig
Brand New Jig
Summary: Jocasta's got a brand new gig as the latest Jig but the all the steps seem to be the same.
Date: 92 ACH
Related Logs: None

Battlestar Genesis - Deck 9 - Gymnasium

It's late in the evening… or whatever it is that counts for evening aboard a battleship that doesn't rightly reckon day or night save for in numerical measure. Twenty-three hundred hours give or take a minute or six. Jocasta's currently clad in standard issue sweat pants and her dual undershirt combo, tags tucked between the two so they don't bounce around and make quite so much of a racket while she mercilessly beats the frak out of a long punching bag hung from the ceiling. It's been giving her the evil eye all week and now it's time to exact a little retribution, or so it seems. She's single-minded in her violent task, throwing punch after brutal punch with a cacophony of grunts, paying little mind to much else.

Bayless makes her way into the gym, wearing her flight suit with the top off and tied off. She looks around the room a bit before spotting Jocasta. Scorch approaches her at a casual pace, leaning on a nearby treadmill.

Castillo comes in from Corridor 9D.
Castillo has arrived.

Jocasta's doing a pretty impressive job of ensuring that not only her knuckles get acquainted with the bag but also her forearms and her elbows as well as an occasional visit from one knee or the other and, yes, even her right shoulder gets to deliver a few solid salutations. Seriously, whatever this punching bag said to her before things got started, it's probably having serious second thoughts about opening its mouth again. Lippy workout equipment learning its lesson.

Bayless's expression is neutral as Jo completely wails on the heavy bag, as she leans on one of the treadmills watching. "I think that bag's never gonna threaten mankind ever again," Scorch says to the ECO.

Castillo strolls into the gym to take advantage of the lighter crowds the late evening affords. Dressed in his sweats already, he heads over to one of the sparring mats and starts a routine of stretches. In between working each limb and joint, he tosses a glance around to see which other night owls are here with him.

Oh, look. An audience. Jo barely spares a glance for Bayless initially, still punishing the stuffing not-so-literally out of the weight bag for another quick one-two-knee before she takes a breather. She steadies the beast and then wipes the sweat from her brow with the heel of her hand. "It never learns," she mutters. "Always comin' back for more…"

Bayless shrugs off and inspects the bag. "Yeah, you'd think it'd learn after the last vicious beating from the feared Lieutenant Maru." She spots Castillo entering the gym and shoots him a nod.

"Still going for raw power over finesse, eh sir?" Castillo calls out to Jo as he pushes himself off the mat. "Ya know it doesn't matter how hard ya throw a punch if ya can hit your target. Didn't they teach you that in flight school?" he says with a grin. A cordial nod is given towards Bayless. "Evenin' sir," he says with the grin still on his face.

There's a wary sort of glare that's slung over to Bayless from the bench that Jocasta's opted to occupy for the duration of her breather. "Hasn't been a Lieutenant Maru since my great-granddad," she says, swiping the small bottle of water hidden beneath the discarded top of her sweat suit and the spare towel she'd only just within reach from where she's sitting. Castillo earns a similarly baleful stare as she retorts, "I learned same place you did." You know. Just in case he forgot.

Bayless looks to Jocasta and fishes something out of one the thigh pockets of her flightsuit. "Yeah?" She sits down on the bench next to her and hands her a pair of jay-gee pins. "Then maybe you'd better take these and quit making a liar out of me."

Before Castillo can retort with a witty comment, Bayless has to ruin the moment by promoting Jo. He makes his way over to one of the treadmills, looking as if he intends to hop on it. Any congratulations to offer are withheld for now; those initial moments are always meant for the promoter and promotee.

One of Jo's dark eyebrows pitches up quizzically, as if she had no idea what the frak to do with the pips for what must be her impromptu promotion. Instead of imparting some sharpened piece of space wit, all the new Jig seems capable of spitting out is, "Thank you, sir." Of course, when Castillo suddenly becomes deaf and dumb, that leaves Jocasta only the awkward option to study to little pins in her palm and then ask, "Was this decided on before or after Wrongway…" Frakkin' left.

Bayless shakes her head, "Not sure of the timing, actually. All I knew was that your eval was sitting in my locker when I came back from Destiny, pending my recommendation. You pulled my ass out of the fire when I got shot, Jammer. I remember that shit." She tries to stay upbeat, despite all that's happened. Rue, the rumors about Kalypso… bad time for the A.W. all around lately.

The MP hops on the treadmill and thumbs it on, the taps the speed up to a lazy '7 minute mile' pace. Warm-up? Who needs 'em. Of course, Jocasta's question elicits a shake of his head. That's the kind of thing you save for a talk over a whiskey bottle. Since the two officers seems to be a little touchy feely still, he keeps his trap shut and just jogs away like a happy little mouse on a wheel.

"You'd have done the same for me, Faceshot…" Oh, look. A new nickname. Not a new callsign, mind, so much as a momentary remembrance of the incident being discussed. Hey, maybe if Castillo's really lucky, the two women will turn their 'touchy feely moment' into a 'touchy feely make-out', eh? Unfortunately, he's not. Instead, Jocasta quietly lays the insignia aside, next to her top and her towel, and then stands back up again to approach and bag and offers while eyeing Castillo, "…any word on Leto?"

Bayless shakes her head, frowning. "Nothing beyond the rumors. Haven't heard whether they're true or not. Keepin' 'em crossed though that it isn't her." The frown on Scorch's face says it all how the recent events have been wearing on her.

Castillo nods his head to Jocasta when the two officers seemingly conclude the informal promotion ceremony. "Congrats, Elltee," he says simply and offers her a genuine smile. A few more simulated meters are run before he answers her question and after Bayless mentions the rumors, "You, of all people, should know I can't answer that, sir." Whether or not he actually does know what's happened to the wayward pilot is left for the two lieutenants to figure out.

Current events were most certainly in part of the invisible beast that Jocasta had been duking it out with before she was discovered to be enthralled by Mars — Ares — and jamming her fingers up in an attempt to punish the bag for someone else's sins. Salin, Rue, Kalypso, Castillo. She shoots a look over to her squadron leader and lifts her chin before laying another hand on the punching bag hanging near her hip. "Go get some sleep, sir. I promise not to make a ruckus when I turn in."

Bayless nods to Jocasta and briefly places a hand on her shoulder (then looks longingly in her eyes before the two… ha, gotcha). "Congrats, Jammer. And thanks… I'll see you back in the berths." She smiles somberly to the ECO then heads for the hatch.

Castillo continues to jog silently on the treadmill. He hasn't run enough to even break an honest sweat. He watches Bayless say her goodbyes and start to leave, then directs his attention back on the new Jig. "How good a raptor jockey is she?" he asks.

"I'd rather fly with her than without," Jocasta says, her reply likely to linger in the lobes of Scorch's disappearing ears before she's completely out of range. It's a compliment. The countermeasures officer hangs both hands on her hips and outright ogles the Marine jogging like a bored dog on the treadmill. "So… what was that you were saying about a moving target earlier?"

Bayless leaves for Corridor 9D [O].
Bayless has left.

"She got many combat boarding sorties under her belt?" Castillo continues to press. A slower pace than normal for his workout does have the added benefit of being able to carry on a conversation. "And I believe I was sayin' that it don't matter how hard you hit if ya can't hit your target… sir." There's a bit of a smirk on Castillo's lips that lives briefly before falling back to his neutral 'jogging' expression.

"You'd have to ask her," the Raptor co-pilot says, taking a step or two away from the punching bag while continuing to give Castillo the eye. Well then. Step right up, says Jocasta's gesture to the open space of mats in the middle of the room. "How about you spare me the lip service…" Or, should that be 'sir'-vice? "…and haul your ass down here for a demonstration?"

Castillo continues to jog and shoots Jocasta a grin. "I dunno, sir," he says in a near-mocking tone. "I don't want to be responsible for taking a pilot off the duty roster while they sit in sickbay for a couple days." He stabs at the treadmill's off button then jogs it down to a crawl and rides it off.

Snatch comes in from Corridor 9D.
Snatch has arrived.

Jocasta thumbs at her lower lip momentarily while waiting for Castillo to apparently join her in the middle of the matted floor; the gesture's only partially visible to the new arrival, as the pilot has her back to the door. "A training officer that can't pull his punches? That might be a problem," she says, tone of voice struck in steel somewhere between serious and sarcasm.

Castillo closes the distance from the treadmill to the sparring mat. He bounces on his toes in a cocky manner once he hits the padding. "Well, then I guess it's good for everyone that I'm not a training officer, is it?" he retorts. "Besides, Colonel Carter's the kind of CO that appreciates having his fleet boys toughened up a bit."

Snatch sticks a towel-draped finger in her ear, making a face as she tips her head to one side, pattering on almost-dry feet out of the pool area, wearing a pair of sweatpants overtop of her swimming suit. Remarkably clean after the encounter with so much water, she rubs the towel a few short times over her hair, leaving it a mass of dark auburn spikes on top of her head. Oh, hey, people are going to fight. Seeming content to be entertained by as much, she comes to settle down by the sparring ring to watch.

Jocasta smirks because, well, that's pretty much her default expression when it comes to dealing with Castillo nowadays. "So, what you're saying is…" She pauses for a moment and allows Snatch the opportunity to sneak by or take a seat before swinging a practice punch at a bunch of blank air than had begun to creep in too close to her right shoulder. "…I should be expecting a thank you from the Colonel when I send you back with a black eye?" Mmmm. Delicious smack talk. What would a fight soon guaranteed to go south regardless of the outcome be like without it?

Castillo bounces and dances on the mat and raises his hands to a defensive stance. "OK, flygirl, why dontcha put your money where your mouth's at," he says with a chuckle and starts to circle counterclockwise. "Let's see if you still remember how to be a soldier, huh?"

Snatch settles in, leaning back on her hands and keeping her legs loosely crossed, hair still dripping on the towel crumpled on the floor behind her. She eyes both fighters, as if trying to determine on whom she should put her money. If she were betting. "Which one of y'all's gone win?" she finally decides simply to ask them.


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