Drunken Advice
Drunken Advice
Summary: Novella is hammered after the recon. Sloane has woman troubles.
Date: 65 ACH
Related Logs: Anything with Corny gettin' dates.

Gold Squadron Berthings Genesis - Deck 12
65 ACH 23817 Souls

Gold Squadron is the viper squadron 'Fighting 58th' on board the battlestar. The room consists of double bunks along the walls with lockers in between each area. An oblong table sits in the center with chairs around it and there is a shower and changing area off the far end that is shared with the Raptor squadron.

The Berthings at this hour are quiet. Not much is going on. Some of the pilots are snoring lightly in their bunks. Others just aren't around. In fact, only one of them is doing anything. That one is Novella. She's sitting at the long end of the table facing the door. There's a glass with some almost-melted ice cubes in it and a bottle of whiskey. Both are held in her hands, a mildly drunken expression on her face. She's still in her flight suit, the thing unzipped and tied around her hips. Hair still matted. Someone hasn't showered since their last outting.

The door to the berthings opens quietly and Sloane peeks his head it. It's likely that there are some people sleeping. Slipping in with a pissed off look on his face and a basket full of unfolded laundry, he's apparently chosen to not fold at the laundry room. Making his way around the table towards the bunk, he quietly sets the basket down without a word and starts to fold.

Novella eyes Sloane lightly as the guy walks in, a half-amused look on her face. She blinks in slow motion and waits a few garments before saying anything. "Hi. How's your night goin'?" An even question. She barely moves.

"Not…exactly as expected." Sloane replies, folding quickly and efficiently, just like he always does. Not looking to her, he keeps his eyes to his work, being rather passive at the moment. A rare trait for the man. "Yours?"

"Huh." The grunt cause a bit of movement to her body. "So what were you expecting? Good or bad? I.. I think I would guess good, ya know? You don't look chipper." Novella peers at him. "Chipper's a fun word. I like it." She nods decisively. "Me? Oh the usual. Played Bear tonight in a Raptor. Good times. Saw the sights." She lifts the bottle to pour some into her glass. "You.. uhh.. You want some of this delicious.. brown..ness?"

"I had two dates tonight that both fell through on me." Sloane replies. "Just found out one of them was for charity." He adds, smirking a little as he reaches back to his locker. Opening it quietly, he sets a coffee mug down in front of her with the Genesis logo on it. Finishing folding, he turns and starts to load his bunk. "Not my best day."

"Damn. That sucks." Novella nods a few times. "Y-ya know, I give you a hard time but you're a good guy, Cornbread." She pours out a good amount into his mug. "I think I'd give you a shot if you weren't a pilot and I wasn't involved. Mainly because I'm.. well. Have you met, Jonah?" Her brow furrows before she sips at her glass. "Wait, that's insensitive. Sorry." She shakes her head. "So talk to me. Charity? What's that about? Some girl was supposed to go out with you and agreed to because she felt bad or somethin?"

Cornbread gives her a little weak smirk and nods. "Nah ain't met him. It's no big deal though." He moves back to the chair and sits, whispering with her after taking a drink from his cup. Biting back the liquor, he nods to her. "That's what it looks like. Now I'm gonna have to wonder if the other date's only doing it for charity too."

"Ah, no. C'mon, Sloane." Novella leans forward onto the table, still holding both alcohols firmly in her grip. "D-don't sell y'self short like that. You're a frakkin' Viper pilot. You're the shit." Cav seems pretty sure of that. "Don't think about some other woman doin' charity to go on a date with ya. That jus' sucks." A pause. "So who were these members of society anyways?"

"Well one of them's related to Kalypso…she's the undecided one but Flask says she's hell on wheels and worth being avoided." Sloane replies, looking to her as he takes another sip. Fishing out a pack of cigarettes, he lights one, offering the pack to her. "The other's a damn CIC girl, claims she told Flask it was just a social date, which he didn't tell me." He shrugs. A little smile. "I'm not selling myself short, just bitter. Should have gone on leave anyway and shown some civvie girl my tags."

"Huh." Another one of those grunts. "Well if a Raptor pilot is waving you off, it might be worth listenin' to. Ballsy frakkers. Some day, I'll tell you a story about Bayless." Novella nods a few times. Drunkenly. But she slides the pack back to him. "Nah, thanks. No sense startin' now, y'know?" she offers with a shrug. "I think you got a good idea there, though." She tilts the bottle towards him. "I hear the women over there love that. You ever see if any of them cheerleaders was looking for someone? I think that might be a good bet for you. Seems very.. Viper-pilot-esque. Or have you not tried your luck over there much, yet?"

"Haven't really tried my luck period, but then after that battle over Muskeg I started thinkin I gotta pay a little better attention to my moments…if that makes sense." Cornbread replies with a little chuckle. "I think Flask's out to try and set me up with Bayless too. Should probably stop him before I start looking desperate around here. Ask someone if they can hook you up with a date for shore leave and all hades comes out."

"No. No I think that makes sense, ya know? A-after we all got shotdown on Leonis, I k-kinda had a little.. ah. Epiphany? Tha's another fun word. But I think it works. I decided to stop being a little bratty bitch." She stopped? But the woman nods with him and sips her drink. "What happened to you on Muskeg, though??" She's confused. "Oh c'mon, Cornbread. See, we all run together and look out for each other, ya know? You want a date, then its our squadronly duty to help set our bretheren up with whatever they need. Its allllll in love, ya know?!"

Sloane takes another sip of the amber colored liquor, taking a rather large pull. "Oh I know but Bayless, I was tellin Orion, she doesn't seem to give me any signals. I don't want to set off the wrong impressions. It's not like I'm looking for a wife, but at the same time with all the CAPs we get I don't get much time away. Civilian girls, I dunno…they seem too…what's the word? Willing? I like a little bit of chase." He admits, giving her a shrug. "On Muskeg I got my cherry popped. Puked for about ten minutes on the flight deck after, but that didn't stop me from staying in the fight."

"Well if she's not sendin' signals then.. so what? Maybe she just ain't thinkin' that way. Y'see.. sometimes we need.. I dunno. Like a, uh. Proverbial slap to the back of the head?" Cav shrugs heavily. Glazed eyes finally manage a bit of a smile. "But you want some of the chase. Yeah I dunno. There's some feisty civvies out there. I mean, ya know.. you could run into one that blows your socks off. Not like we've got a planets worth 'er somethin'. But shit.. near-'bouts 13,000 women in the fleet. Gotta be someone worth a pursuit lead." To his info about Muskeg, she blinks. "Shit, man. Didn't know you got sick. Glad you told me now." She nods soberly. "Otherwise I'd give ya crap about it. But 'es understandable. But you're cool now, huh? No problems with flyin' or combat shakes or nothin?"

"Oh no…none at all. Was just my first combat sortie. I think I picked up four kills. Can't remember right now, too tired." Sloane admits, shaking his head a little. "So afterwards my stomach let me know what was going on." Sloane chuckles softly. "I think this is the last time I get people to set me up on purpose. Just do me a favor allright? Don't you or anyone else set me up with someone unless they're interested first, allright?"

"Psh. Kills don't matter so much as comin' back in one piece." Novella lets it slide out as if she were some sage philosopher. "But ya know? I sat in this same chair, drinkin' this same bottle and told Rue and Nikos that I was hot shit because I done got m'self the Wing's first kill. Know what that matters now?" Well she's gonna tell him. "'bout two glasses worth of jack'n shit. And ya know? I was skittish like a kitten afterwards. Kinda of of the reasons I drink. Steadies m'nerves after a tough run." Cav nods a few times but stops at his request. "No way, Cornbread. You're good people. I can tell. Now.. I won't say I won't hook you up. But I'm not goin' to go around askin' other women if they're interested. I'll just keep m'ears open for ya." She taps the bottle to her ear. "Ow. Sound livable?"

"That's more than liveable." Sloane replies, giving Novella a broad grin. Feeling much better and taking the more experienced pilot's advice, he nods to her and then finishes his glass. Draining the mug, he stubs out his cigarette. "Now I….have to get some frakkin' sleep." He says, looking to her. "Thanks…"

Novella grins, glad that she could help. Even in her state. "Hey no problem. Its what squadmates're for. That and to rib the ever-living shit out of each other." She lifts the glass in salute before she drains it. "Get some winks for me, Cornbread. Think I'll be awake for a few days." The woman pours another glass, smiling weakly now to him. "Night."

"Well you need a favor returned you ask me, allright?" Sloane replies, pulling off his boots and setting them into his locker. Stretching out, he slides onto his bunk and draws the curtain. The blankets pulled over him, he closes his eyes. "Night Cav…"

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