'Lite' Lunch
'Lite' Lunch
Summary: Micah shows up to have some lunch with Eve on her break.
Date: 68 ACH
Related Logs: None.

Sickbay Genesis - Deck 13
68 ACH 23817 Souls

The medical facility is large enough to hold a few dozen beds. Each bed is set with a curtain for privacy, a chair near the bed and any monitoring or medical aids needed. A nurses desk sits at the front near the hatch and a surgery area, Medical Officers area and supplies are on the far wall behind the desk. Nurses, doctors and medics man this area at any time day or night. Visiting hours are usually kept to the day and evening schedules, unless stated otherwise by medical staff.

< Condition Three —- Duty Area >

Contents: Craven Eve Hazzard Melia Micah Medical Charts Memorial
Board Wireless 1492
Exits: [CMO] CMOs Office [O] Corridor
[PO] Psychiatry Office [RW] Recovery Ward
Special: +lhelp - Local Help Available

Micah's entry draws Craven's attention for a moment and he's giving the pilot a smile and a quick nod before looking back to Melia, "Perfect." There's an arch of a brow at the mention of the MD and he's giving a smile to that, "Well, that's certainly good to hear. I think you'd make an excellent Doctor one day, Sullivan." A pause and he's looking down to the clipboard in his hands before looking back up, "I just wanted to take a minute and let you know that I've heard nothing but glowing comments from those you've been working with. Patients and staff alike."

Melia is standing in front of Craven, a few feet away, at parade rest, upper lip caught between her teeth. She doesn't LOOK like she's in trouble, just like she thinks she is. But when Craven speaks, her expression relaxes and she dips her head to the man. "Thank you, Sir," she says quietly, her focus on her CO. "It helps when I truly enjoy the people I work with. Everyone has been very easy to handle and there've been no problems."

Eve exits her office just behind Castillo, obviously just having finished a session with the man. Her hand pulls the hatch closed behind her, not apt to leave it open for long with her classified files inside and her not in it. "I'll get this written up for…" She yawns, giving a shake of her head and a murmured apology on the tail end of it. "..you."

Micah is lurking in one of the waiting area chairs, dressed in offduty fatigues with his booted feet kicked out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. Elbows sprawled out to either side, he seems to be on a mission to take up as much space as humanly possible in that chair. There's a glance toward the psychiatrist's office when people step out, but he stays where he is for the time being.

"Thanks again, sir," Castillo says to Eve. Not one to dally much, he begins an outbound trajectory from the Psychiatry Office and through sickbay.

Hazzard finds himself a nurse who hands over some personal effects the he can take with him directly and a cane. To his own satisfaction he was given a pair of sweat pants before he left the wardroom since he is to walk back to the berthing.

There's a soft laugh towards Melia and Craven is giving another nod of his head, "Indeed, it does. You've been an excellent asset to us, since you've arrived. It's been quite nice to have you around here and I want you to keep up the good work." He's withdrawing something from the clipboard and extending it towards her, "Here's some shore leave authorization. Take some time to yourself. I do want you to check on both the Carina and Pandora, make sure everything on both is stocked and the inventory is all there." You do a good job and you get assigned some more work. Go figure.

Melia just blinks owlishly at Craven for a moment then reaches out to take the sheet. She looks a little bowled over. "Shore leave," she asks, then practically beams up at the man. "Thank you, Sir. The Carina and Pandora, I can take care of that by tomorrow, Sir. The report will be on your desk." Apparently the other folks haven't been noticed, yet - she's too surprised.

Hazzard is a member of the SST and they are trained for recon and intelligence gathering, as he accepts the cane from the nurse along with his belonging in a bag he curls his lips into a smile. 'Tomorrow' he murmurs and looks back towards the Nurse who helped him. "Take care now."

Eve turns back towards the nurse's station, as if to see what else is on her plate today when she catches sight of Micah. The practiced smile she normally wears on her lips warms a few degrees, and her path changes to intercept him. "Lieutenant Lite." She smirks, a foot lifting to tap a boot against his. "Aren't here because of another pesky pair of shoes, are you?" Of course, she's already scanning him for potential injury.

There's a soft laugh at the 'beam' from Melia and Craven is giving a nod of his had, "You've earned it, PO. Great work around here." He's offering a laugh and then motioning towards the door, "Go on now. I know you have some things to do and I need to go talk with Doc."

Lieutenant Lite? "That's jig to you, el-tee," St. Germain retorts with a smirk, and a glint in his eyes that's entirely playful. Nope, he's not bruised, bleeding, bumped or broken in any obvious way. Though he might be a little hungover. Probably. The SST's departure is noted with a quick glance, then he's lifting his gaze to the psyche again. "Walked around them, this time. You got time for some food, sir? Figure there's some mashed potatoes an' meatloaf with your name on 'em."

Melia just blinks at Craven, beaming. "Of course, Sir," she says, then dashes back to the recovery ward. From 0 to 60 in 2.6 seconds. There's a reason she earned the nickname "Terrier."

Hazzard sighs as he sees the energizer bunny of the Navy depart. He still has several small bandaids in his face from the shrappnel, and uses a cane to make his way towards the exit hatch. "St. Germain." he adds in passing as he limps his way on out.

Eve offers a brief smile to Hazzard, even though she wasn't acknowledged. "You buying lunch then, Jig?" She asks, her attention returning to Micah, though her smile has some what dimmed. "I'm probably due for a lunch break. Let me just go click out with the nurses." That said, she approaches the nurses' station and checks out, perhaps even shifting around a few appointments for how long she lingers. In short order, she's returning. "C'mon. Ooh. But no meatloaf." She makes a little exaggerated grimace.

Micah tips off a little mock-salute to Hazzard as he departs, then begins climbing to his feet. Eve's waning smile may or may not be caught; he's watching after her curiously though, as she loiters at the nurses' station a few minutes. "Aye. Aye, no meatloaf. You can have my ice cream." He flashes her a smile, voice dropping low as he holds the door for them to step out.

Mess Hall Genesis - Deck 9
68 ACH 23817 Souls

The Mess Hall on the Genesis is quite large and able to hold over 300 personnel at a time. Tables are staggered in some areas and set against the wall in others. The mess hall begins near the hatch with an area for trays and silverware, then moves through the line for the cooks to dish up whatever is on the menu for the day. There are also snack machines at the end of the line, past the huge coffee urns and water dispensers.

< Condition Three —- Public Area >

Contents: Eve Micah Wireless 1498
Exits: [O] Corridor
Special: +lhelp - Local Help Available

<Trait Roll> Micah rolls Awareness and achieves a degree of Poor (1).

Of course the mention of ice cream put a little more pep in her step, though likely as Eve trails after Micah, she looks as hungover as he feels. Well. For different reasons of course. "Gods, I didn't even realize I was this hungry." A hand falls to her stomach as they step into mess hall, the thing audibly rumbling as they move to the line.

Micah isn't quite ramming anyone out of the way, though he's not adverse to the liberal use of his shoulder when people try to jostle them. Looks like soup's in the offing today; he ladles a little too much into his bowl and has to steady the thing, to keep from spilling it. "You eating enough?" he mumbles behind Eve's shoulder.

Eve doles herself out a small portion, taking a crusty looking piece of bread to go along with it, and of course, a side of reconstituted mashed potato flakes. At his question, she merely gives a shrug of her shoulder. "Actually, I think I'm losing weight." She smiles appreciatively to the private working the line, and receives a cup of apple juice.

Chase shuffles into the Mess Hall sleepily, yawning a bit as he does so. Moving on something akin to autopilot, he gets in line, waiting for his turn to get food.

Micah frowns slightly at that, and ducks his head again to grab two hunks of bread and a cup of apple juice. Let's not forget the bowl of ice cream. The private is ignored as he shuffles out of the queue and angles toward a free table.

Eve must be lunching with Micah, as she follows him to which ever table he picks out of the lot. She sets down her tray, but before she sits, Eve's working the buttons of her duty shirt, undoing them all the way down to shrug out of the thing completely. Its hitched on the back of her chair, and she sinks down into the thing, looking slightly uncomfortable. "I'm glad I have a desk job. I don't think I could stand all day long."

Chase gets his food, not seeming to care much just what is slopped down on his plate, as he takes the tray and moves on. He heads for an unoccupied table, trying his best to dodge chairs and people. As he passes by one departing person, said person goes out of his way to jostle Chase, roughly, hissing something under his breath. There's a few awkward seconds as Chase tries to keep his tray from spilling, the other guy heading on out.

Micah waits until Eve's settled, then scoots his chair in a little closer. Not quite touching, but enough that he could catch her if she were to, say, keel over all of a sudden. "You shouldn't be losing weight," he mumbles, stuck on that fact at the moment. His soup's slurped from a bit noisily. "You seen a doctor about it?" The hissing and jostling nearby briefly catches his attention, and he looks between the two bemusedly.

Eve glances over at the jostling, but no fists are thrown, so she goes back to her lunch for the time being. "I have an appointment scheduled with my attending tomorrow. I'll make sure to bring it up. But my belly's still getting bigger, I can't imagine its anything serious. Likely due to the fact I throw up more than I can actually keep down, hmm?" She asks, quirking an amused bit of a smile.

Chase makes it to a table without any more incidents. With a sigh, he settles down, putting his tray in front of him. Mmmm, tasty. It's only as he's about to take a drink that he happens to look up and see who else is occupying the table: a handful of pilots from Lion Squadron, all glaring daggers at him. Wordlessly, moving as one, they pick up their half-eaten meals and depart, leaving Chase to rule over an empty table.

Micah is thoroughly unsuccessful at biting down on the smile that touches his features, when Eve mentions getting fatter. Awww. The throwing up, though, that's not sitting with him well. "You want me to come along?" Another look toward the specialist, and then it clicks. Oh. HIM. The viper jock just so happens to have brandished his knife at about that point, too, but Chase is looking the other way. "Ah'm worried about you," is mumbled to Eve.

Eve reaches out to touch his back in what looks like a soothing gesture, likely she doesn't understand the tension between the pilot and the deck hand, because the rumor mill hasn't made it that far yet. So she's rubbing his back apparently in reference to him worrying about her, not the knife brandishing bit. "I'm…I'm not sure you'll be allowed in. But I'll check, I imagine you should get some sort of privileges." She offers a reassuring smile. "I'm fine. Look. Eating." She assures, her hand dropping from his back to take up her spoon. As she eats, she picks around anything that could classify as 'meat'.

Chase shrugs, mentally and physically, and goes on ahead with his meal. Food, the eating of. Important thing, when you get right down to it. Everyone's gotta eat, even the Deck crew.

Micah doesn't really seem to be doing anything with that knife. He sure doesn't need it to eat his soup, so it's set back down again with a -clang-. "Aye," he murmurs to the Lieutenant, voice softened a touch. How could anyone stay agitated long, when she's doing that? "Check. They keepin' you off your feet enough? Maybe you need an assistant, or somethin'." It's all murmured quietly, spoon stirred in his soup to help it cool.

Eve smiles sidelong at Micah, "I sit in a chair all day, and my patients lay on a couch. The only way things would be easier is if we switched positions. I'm alright. Exhausted, but if it gets too bad, I'll just ask for another day of bed rest. I'm coping." Her words pause a moment, as does her eating. She shifts a bit to turn in her chair so she can look at him fully. "You really want to go?"

Chase finishes eating. No, it didn't take long at all. Eating takes a lot more time when you have something to distract you, like company or a good book. He polishes off his meal, and stands up, collecting his stuff.

"Yeah," Micah replies, odd eyes peering back at her over his cup of apple juice. He takes a large swig of it, then tears off a bite of bread. "Well, no, but yeah." That's spoken with his mouth full, so good luck translating it. He continues eating for a few minutes in silence, then, "You didn't have to come, you know. To the memorial last night."

<Trait Roll> Eve rolls Intelligence and achieves a degree of Fair (3).
<Trait Roll> Eve rolls Psychology and achieves a degree of BeyondSuperb* (8).

Eve narrows her eyes, trying to figure out what he said with this mouth full. The gist of it she probably understands and she seems just a hint crestfallen. "Yes well. Sorry I couldn't stick around longer." She mutters, going back to her soup. Her bread is dunked in it, soaking up some of the broth before she nibbles on it.

Chase begins to head on out, taking his tray towards the return spot. Now, for most people, this would be an easy task. Cross the room. Deposit tray. Exit. Chase isn't most people. As he passes one occupied table, a foot is stuck out, a foot he neglects to notice. The result is about as expected, as he takes an unexpected tumble to the ground. Kersplat.

<Trait Roll> Micah rolls Awareness and achieves a degree of Good (4).

Micah frowns a little at that crestfallen look from Eve, and digs into his food again. He doesn't particularly seem to know what to say to that, so he settles on nothing. Micah, of course, doesn't nibble. He shovels. So he's got his mouth full of soup-soaked bread when there's a clatter and a thump, and he looks over to see Chase on the floor. Nope, he's not going to help.

Eve glances over along with half of the other diners, "Oh my." She nudges Micah with a slight shift of her elbow, "Will you go over and make sure he's okay for me?" No clue that the man was tripped, much less why, she's going to play the good semaritan, at least by proxxy.

Chase just takes it like a man, picking himself up off the floor without letting on that he suspects it wasn't an accident, and starting to gather up his spilled debris as well. Sigh. Definitely one of those days.

Micah pauses at that nudge from Eve, and flits his eyes toward her. Make sure he's okay? He does, to his credit, manage to keep the look of incredulity from his face. Though he does sigh quietly. The bread's washed down with apple juice, and he grinds his chair back as he pushes to his feet. While not the biggest kid on the block, it's enough to jostle him through the lunch crowd and end up somewhere near Chase and his spilled food tray. "You, uh. Okay?" It's sort of grunted at the deck hand. And he might, or might not recognise the pilot as one of those dress grey-wearing solemn people in the observation deck last night.

Eve smiles at Micah pleasantly, in a sort of blissful sense of ignorance. Likely she figures the sigh is merely because she's asking him to pause in his lunch. As Micah goes off to check on Chase, she watches his progress for a moment before turning back to her soup…and then proceeding directly to ice cream, instead.

Chase knows Micah, oh yes. Which is why he just gives the pilot an arched eyebrow of 'are you kidding me?' in return. "Oh sure," he says. "Don't get too close. Folks might think you were aiding and abetting me." The tone is dry and a little bitter.

Micah remains standing a few moments longer, simply looking down at the specialist picking up utensils and tossing them back onto his tray, no doubt. Wordlessly, he drops into a crouch and reaches to fetch the glass that had rolled away. Or, well, large fragments of it. "Might want to watch where you're goin' next time," he mutters. "Pilots sit on this side. Marines on the other." Maybe it's friendly advice. Maybe it's just snarky. Though it's Micah, so probably a bit of both.

Eve gives a quick glance over to Micah and Chase, only seeing what's going on and not really hearing the words that are exchanged. As Micah stoops to pick up the glass, she gives a bit of a smile and spoons another heap of ice cream through her lips.

Chase shrugs briefly. "Sure, got it," he states flatly. With everything accounted for, he turns to move on again. "Don't worry, if anyone asks, I'll assure them you were telling me to stick to my own kind."

Micah pushes to his feet, and wipes his hands off on the thighs of his fatigues. "Hey," he calls after the specialist. And assuming the man pauses, or at least doesn't zoom off, he ambles in closer. "Jus' let it blow the frak over." He makes a whooshing motion with his hand over his head, and then is heading back to his table.

Now what was that hand gesture for? Likely Eve is amusing herself over icecream by adding in her own dialogue, but whatever words she's adding to the play are internal. Maybe Micah just told him to get a hair cut, or is talking about buzzing over a Raider with his viper. Whatever the case, Eve's finished nearly all her ice cream by the time Micah returns.

Chase dips his head to Micah. "Yup," he says. "Reckon I will. Can't last forever. Just hope it doesn't interfere with my job, is all." Because a deck tech whose mind isn't on his work could be a bad thing. He shrugs. "Anyway. Back to work." And off he goes.

Yeah, Chase isn't the only one who's frakked if he lets his personal life weasel into his work. Micah simply gives a firm nod to that, and wanders back to his chair. Dropping himself into it, he brandishes his spoon again and mumbles something to Eve.

Micah is grinning, of course, as he says that.

Eve reaches over to clack spoons with Micah, "Thank you, darling. Quite happy." Which is evident the way her eyes sparkle, but then again, they've been doing that a lot lately, even when she's as dead tired as she is. To the second part of whatever he said, she merely quirks a hint of an eyebrow and gives an, "Oh?" Waiting to be filled in.

Micah warms, a little, to that sparkle. Despite the fact that he's nursing a bit of a hangover, and the only sparkle he's feeling is a dull tingle behind his eyes. Merely grinning at her query, he returns to his tepid soup, and polishes it off. His ice cream is pushed toward her, in rather the same fashion as a puppy dragging in an old shoe. Then again, it is vanilla ice cream. Even if it's started to melt by now.

Eve giddies when he pushes his ice cream towards her. She wasn't going to ask for it, even if it /was/ promised. But he's offering, so you betcha she's accepting. The bowl cupped in one hand, the spoon gripped almost childishly in the other, she starts skimming off the top melty layer systematically. "Micah?" She asks, looking down at dessert rather than him, which means what follows is not likely going to be an innocent question. "Do you…?" Well hell. She can't even get it out.

Micah is oblivious to the rowdy lunch crowd, the people jostling the backs of their chairs and shouting over the tops of their heads, for a little while. He's just watching her spoon up that ice cream with an open-lipped smile he's probably utterly unaware of. "Huh?" Her question jostles him out of his reverie, and he eases back in his chair to tug a pack of cigarettes out of his trousers, and light one. "Do I what?"

Eve is just poking at her ice cream now, feeling like a twelve year old on the playground when it comes to matters of the heart. Unfortunately this extends a bit more past a schoolyard crush, and passing notes in third period. "Do you want a boy or a girl?" She asks quietly, as if almost expecting him to respond that he wants neither, actually.

Micah doesn't answer immediately. He usually needs time to coalesce these kinds of things in his head, and the cigarette provides a useful distraction. The pack's tucked back into his pocket, and he drags from the thing quietly a moment. "Kind've partial to a girl." It's mumbled on an exhale, smoke flooding from his nostrils. Her little psyche-sense might tell her that it's not a casual, thinking on his feet type of reply, no matter how he's trying to make it seem one. He's thought about this. Hard.

Eve dares a little glance to him, through half lowered lashes and a little wave of hair that's snuck out of her elastic. She also threatens to smile, but it won't break fully on her lips as if doing so might chase away whatever she's just timidly toyed out of Micah. "Yeah?" She asks, but is sounds as if the word is purely coincidental to her exhale, rather than consciously formed.

Micah flickers a smile at that, and rests his cigarette hand on the edge of the table as he gazes at her. "Yeah," he confirms. Mismatched eyes skim her profile, the lock of wayward hair, which he gently tucks behind her ear with a fingertip. "A little girl, maybe with your eyes, and ridiculously long hair."

Eve's hand drops to his knee beneath the table, fingers toying with a fold in the fabric. "Can she have your smile? And your skin…and…" She gives a little snippet of a laugh before she bites her bottom lip, staying her from listing off all the things she apparently finds appealing about Micah.

Micah might be blushing, though due to that aforementioned swarthy complexion, it's a little tough to tell. Dragging from the cigarette, he's still watching her with a weighted stare, like there's something at the tip of his tongue that wants to be said. Instead, "Finish your ice cream." He's smiling though, hand brushing hers under the table. Yep, Micah is happy.

Eve smiles, and for a moment, it might actually look like she's about to cry. But chalk that up to stupid hormones. She's happy, too. Ridiculously so, to the point she actually has that proverbial 'glow' about her. At his direction, she takes back up the spoon and works some more on her ice cream, content to be quiet for now.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License