Pimp My Cornbread
Pimp My Cornbread
Summary: Cornbread needs some quality tail.
Date: 58 ACH
Related Logs: None
Players:
Kalypso..Orion..Bayless..Sloane..Micah..

Battlestar Genesis, Deck 9, Roosters Nest (Obs Deck), 58 ACH

The observation deck is at the fore of the ship. The viewport allows those who come here to relax and enjoy a little quiet time with opposite sex. When the ship is under Alert levels, the viewport has a steel shutter that automatically comes down over the viewport for protection of the glass. The seats here are single and double and set up like a theater. They are cushioned and some recline back for those quick naps.


Kalypso is curled in one of the cushioned chairs of the Observation Deck. There's a pencil in her hand and a small leather-bound book in her lap. She's not really made any marks on the blank page in front of her. Instead the blonde pilot is looking out of the viewport at the fleet and the red planet beyond with a far-away expression.

Orion comes in, holding a tray of… eel. Apparently, he's taken it upon himself to -not- eat in the mess hall today. Exactly what caused this is not obvious, but he doesn't look terribly chipper at this point, either. That he sits near you is probably a coincidence, but the man has a fork, a view of the stars, and he's not afraid to use them.

Bayless comes in from Corridor 9A.
Bayless has arrived.

"Come here often?" the words from Kalypso break the quiet as Orion sits down near her with his food. The Raptor pilot and the Viper pilot are in some of those cushy chairs the Observation deck is home to, with their view of the stairs, the fleet, and the red planet the lot of them hover around. Kalypso has a sketchbook opened in her lap and a pencil, but the page is blank.

Orion is sitting with a tray of eelcakes on his lap and a steaming hot cup of… something. No. No sodding idea and it's better that way. The sound of Kalypso's voice doesn't take the fighter pilot by surprise, but he certainly wasn't expecting it. He glances towards her and mutters with a 'Here goes nothing!' tone normally reserved for just before going into a hot zone, "First time for everything." He cuts a piece of eelcake, then puts it in his mouth. "Sure are a lot of them." He glances at the sketchbook.

Bayless comes into the lounge, carrying a metallic travel-style coffee mug with her own warm beverage within. Her hair is undone from its usual ponytail and she's yawning as she makes her way in. She tosses Kalypso and Orion a wave as she grabs a seat near them, one of those reclining ones that the Ares SL kicks back in.

Kalypso looks back to the page in front of her and shakes her head. The pencil is tapped blandly against the page, leaving a few faint dots of graphite. "Same here," she responds to Orion. Small talk. And stretches of star-gazing awkward silence. She turns her head to look at Orion's plate. "You mean the eel cakes or the stars?" Bayless' entrance receives a nod and wave of her pencil-holding hand. "El Tee."

Orion's head casts a moving shadow across the tables of the observation post as he, too, nods to Bayless. "Stars. One of those is home, you know? Twelve of them are, really. Or were." He smirks a bit, and cuts another piece of eelcake with his fork, then apparently thinks better of it to sip the mystery hot liquid, instead.

Bayless smiles as she gets comfy on the chair. "One of those others could be. One'a these days." She takes a sip of her beverage and stares out at the starscape.

"Were," Kalypso says. She clears her throat and looks back at her blank page. Now her pencil moves, slowly, lightly. The framework of a drawing is gently ghosted across the paper, but she's not ignoring her two companions, really. "And Gods willing, El Tee. Maybe what's left of us will find a home again." But for now, that home is the Genesis and the fleet of survivors she protects. A thought the blonde keeps to herself.

"Could ain't no way to think." admits Orion, "Will. Just gotta keep the frakkin canners off our asses long enough for command to figure things out." Another sip, "You know…" The man smirks to himself, "Me and my dog, Tippy, used to get lost around the backwoods late at night when I was just kneehigh to a grasshopper? Used the sky to find our way back, and let me tell you… on a cloudy day? We were -fraacked-."

Bayless chuckles. "I remember my dad doing the same back when I was a little frakker. He'd, ah… he'd take me out with his old Picon 6 and we'd cap ambrosia bottles till the sun went down." She smiles a bit wistfully. "Good times."

Some of the lines in Kalypso's drawings darken a little more, but whatever is taking shape on the page is still difficult to be determined. The artist herself is the only one that can really sees what the end result should be, yet. "So what'd you do, Scala? Spend the night in the woods?" Kaly shakes her head, "Never did anything like that with my ol' man."

"Yeah?" Bayless' comment turns Orion's head, "Well shit, sir. You just about described my passtime. We shot so many rounds into old cans out in them woods and fields that we had more casings than a sausage factory." He chuckles a bit, then gives Kalypso a nod, "Hades yeah. Tip and I waren't no fools. Worst thing you can do when you're lost is just keep on going."

Bayless grins at Orion's anecdote then tilts her head towards Kalypso and her sketchbook. "What're you working on there?"

"Nothing really special," Kalypso says, holding the book out across the chairs so that her Squad Leader can see it. The sketch is light as yet, but the infrastructure of a drawing she's laid out shows a section of the view that can be seen from here. A couple of the fleet ships roughly placed and loosely drawn in front of a section of the planet with its circular rings. It's not a stellar drawing, but there's some underlying talent there without any pizazz. It's what her professor's would have called 'good but passionless' in critique. "My way of journaling, really," the woman shrugs.

"See, you better hold on and keep that safe, Leto." Orion snickers, glancing at the drawing, "In a few hundred years, that'll end up in a museum some day and be all: Holy frak." Orion raises an arm like he's trying to simulate flashing lights. He even opens and closes his hand to help with this endeavor, "Personal memoirs and drawings from an actual combat pilot on board -the- Genesis, ya'll who got our sick asses here." He seems mostly kidding, but there's probably a hint of truth, or assumed truth, to his tone.

Bayless giggles. "Flask's got a point, girl… everything's art to somebody." She pauses for a drink. "And Gods know we could use some beauty these days."

Kalypso shifts back into her comfortably slouched position. The book replaced on her knee where she just looks at the beginnings of her drawing. "Hah. Yeah, maybe so," she says with a quirk of her lips, "And wouldn't that be a kick to the head. Hundred years from now, shame I probably won't be around to see that." Her pencil goes back to moving, the shading making the definition of different ships come out. "Based on the way some of the marines were looking at some of my former shipmates on the Hera, I'd say beauty isn't all people are looking for these days."

"Frakker who instigated that shit…" Orion narrows his eyes, "He ain't been right in the head for a good long time. Been causing shit and I don't mind telling you that I hope they fry the sucker, bless his heart." Those last three words sound less than sincere. He stretches his arm while it's up in the air, then brings it down to eat what's in front of him, "With Artemis up in Olympus as my witness, I swear I do. Ain't like we've got many humans left."

Bayless laughs heartily at Kalypso's comment. "Oh Gods, you have no idea… you should've seen the ocean of Marine drool I had to mop out of my Raptor, especially once we actually got on board…" She stands up from her seat and strikes a comically suggestive pose, hands on the chair's back, spine arched and butt stuck out. "Excuse me, mistah Marine-man…" she says in what could only be considered a "bimbo" accent. "…my bikini bottom's caught on this railing, could you cut it loose for me, pretty please..?" She giggles a little, then sobers a bit after hearing Orion speak of Gars. "No godsdamn doubt, Flask… imagine having to see it up close." 'Cause she did, her face saying so in big neon letters.

Kalypso needed the laugh that comes out now. The corners of the woman's eyes even crinkle up as she laughs at Bayless' display. "And then here I come shovin' through the crowd wanting to know what the frak is going on," she grins. She pushes her fingers through her hair, but Orion's words and then her SL's cut her laughter off short. "I knew one of them. Not well, but…"

Sloane comes in from Corridor 9A.
Sloane has arrived.

Bayless nods somberly to Kalypso and returns to one of the reclining chairs, taking her coffee mug up once again. Kalypso and Orion are seated nearby, Kalypso at work with a sketchbook and pencil and Orion with a beverage and plate of eelcakes.

Orion rolls his eyes, "Frakkin jarheads. Learned real fast I don't like 'em one bit." He turns to Bayless, "If I had to fly -with- 'em on my bird? Well, it's just lucky they got rules against drinking on duty… or at least I -heard- a rumor like that once, you know what I'm saying?" He laughs depreciatingly, "I mean, let's not be jumping to conclusions or nothing, but a little juice to ease the pain before delivering the mail may not be somethiung the cag would account for."

Quietly, the door to the Observation Deck opens. Sloane, freshly back from CAP duty has managed to find a shower and his off duty clothes. The door closes behind him and he steps quietly over to get some coffee. Not introducing himself to the room, he doesn't carry any air of sadness. He does, however, carry a book under one arm.

Bayless glances over to Sloane and tosses him a quick greeting. "Hey." Back in Orion's direction, "Never had too much call to dislike the Marines, but Gars… godsdamn…" She just shakes her head.

"Didn't think I would, neither. Lots of fellas in my family joined the corp. Puts a little hair on your chest. Get in, do your thing, get out." Orion mutters, sipping the hot liquid before continuing, "They stay in long enough, I right believe they turn rotten like a carton of eggs. At least that one did." He gives Sloan a nod of recognition.

"Hey…" Sloane replies over his shoulder and then turns to the rest of the room. Catching Bayless in his eyes, he offers her a broad smile. Recognizing the Raptor driver, he steps over to a reclining chair near hers. Seating himself, he stretches out his legs. "Just got back from CAP…how's everything around here?" He says, tossing Kalypso and Orion a nod.

Bayless grins and responds to Sloane, "Can't complain. Just making idle chatter. Hera, the shootout, bikini-clad Marine groupies… the usual. Take it CAP was uneventful this go-round?"

Orion regards the two easily. "Ain't no expert, but if it wasn't, I reckon the whole damned ship would be running in circles right about now." He smiles a bit, "Oh, uh… last time I ran into you for reals that wasn't just nodding and not steppin on each other on the way to the shower, I wasn't too right in the head. Hope y'undderstand. Ensign Scala. They done dubbed me 'Flask' now." He raises a hand in greeting to Sloane, not going to the extent of standing up, walking over, and shaking. It's a lot more casual than that.

"How come there aren't any bikini clad pilot groupies anyway?" Sloane says with a roll of his eyes and a deep, humored smile. "Yeah…CAP was four hours flight time logged and alot of looking around. Everything's calm which is just…the way…I like it." He smiles back to the girl. "You and I haven't formally met, have we?" He extends his hand. "Antonio Sloane. Cornbread." He looks to Orion with a laugh. "Flask huh? You know, don't repeat this, but I was just being quiet because I never got that ritual done on me, so I was trying to distract from that fact."

Bayless grins and accepts Sloane's handshake. "Nice to know you. Rachael Bayless, callsign Scorch. And as of a couple days ago, Ares Squadron Leader. I'd throw my lot in, but I didn't pack a bikini when I got the transfer here."

"Fraternization rules may or may not prohibit us from catcalling, sir." Orion's tone was professional right there, and the conscious effort to dampen his accent was obvious. The snicker that he barely stifles afterwards is, of course, purely a detail. "Cornbread, I can't blame you one bit. All I got to say is that my first night on the ship, a girl done exploded a bottle of seltzer down my pants. If that don't change your expectations of military life, nothing will."

Sloane flashes Bayless an incorrigable grin. "Yeah I heard about that, Congratulations." He looks to her muscular arms. He's not skinny, he's just so damned close to below average in muscle mass. "Damn, woman. Next time I walk by Marine Country will you come along? Skinny little nerds like me need a little protection around this place." He takes his hand back, looking to Orion. "Yeah right? What guy wouldn't want a bottle of seltzer dumped down his pants in a room full of people? Me? Hades no. I kept my ass quiet." He chuckles, looking back to Bayless. "Hey, you wanna be a pilot groupie I'll find you a bikini around here, Scorch. I've got the connections."

Bayless chuckles a bit at Sloane. "I'll keep you in mind… though without that water park having any water anymore, I can't imagine I'll have much need. Plus Raptors are notoriously cold." He glances over at Orion, "That a fact? Think I heard something about that."

Kalypso is just quietly drawing away in her sketchbook. The drawing of the fleet and red planet visible out the viewport is coming along nicely.

"Yeaah. How's that for a how-you-do? Cag calls us in to let us know she's with child, then she points me out and…" Orion laughs a little more, shaking his head and then downing the last of the hot liquid in his mug, "Well, shit. I'm still shakin' like a leaf on a tree bcause I just got here and their eyes all lit up like they had visual on a wounded raider fit for frying. Fireeater done gave the rook something to think about, let me tell you." Sloane's commentary brings a smirk to the other man's face, and he tilts his head, "What kind of connections? Think you could lay hands on a musical keyboard?"

"There's always a need." Sloane replies, sipping his coffee quietly and sliding the book to side on his opposite side in the chair, hiding it a little bit. Carefully testing the coffee, he blows into it and takes another sip. He then carefully sets it on the small table to his left. "

"There's always a need." Sloane replies, sipping his coffee quietly and sliding the book to side on his opposite side in the chair, hiding it a little bit. Carefully testing the coffee, he blows into it and takes another sip. He then carefully sets it on the small table to his left. "Hey since I got on here I've made a few, but the Carina? That's a different story." He says, giving them each a smooth grin. "See you won't get a musician to hand theirs over but I don't think anyone's remembered that there's one in the announcer deck of the pyramid arena." Sloane grins. "I met a guy at the Panther that has access to it and owns it, I did some trade to pay him off for access to the booth if I ever had a date, which never happened. I might be able to arrange a sale or trade." He adds, shrugging. "But my connections don't come cheap. Find me a date for shore leave on the Destiny and I'll put it together."

Bayless giggles, "Yeah, I suppose you have a point there." She sips her coffee as Sloane and Orion negotiate back and forth.

Orion listens to Sloane while eating, nodding a few times while the other viper jock explains the lay of the land. At the final ultimatum, he grins, points his fork at Sloane, and responds with his mouth still full, "Murrgh!" He swallows someo of his food and tries again, "Blondes, Brunettes, or Redheads? You just happen to be talkin' to the frakkin -master-."

"Yes." Sloane replies, grinning broadly at Bayless' giggling. "Hey I'm not looking for true love until hit hits me in the face and I'm not looking for the kind of girl that isn't a little selective." He shrugs. "I like pretty, I like smart, I like attractive, but she's also gotta be a good time. I can't stand the kind of girl that spends the whole time trying to look pretty. I like the kind of girl that knows she is and is out to relax." He grins to the both of them. "Then I need some advice on how not to be an idiot during the date."

Bayless grins. "Bit of advice number one. The eyes?" She points two fingers to her eyes. "Here." She then points to her breasts. "Not here." Back to the eyes. "Here." She's obviously having some fun with Cornbread, not intending to paint him as a womanizer. "Girl's estimations of a guy's IQ go up ten or twelve points the less they stare at their boobs during the first date."

"Please, pay no attention to the stick to my left." explains Orion in a typical viper jock tone while jabbing his thumb at Bayless. They start early, don't they? "Girl don't care where you're lookin' as long as she's sure there's a fella in there and you got eyes for her. Check 'em out as much as you want. -That's- why they dress up like that in the first place." CIC, Flask. DRADIS contact, two bogeys. Females. Targets may be hostile.

Kalypso has been quietly enjoying the conversation in silence, but her mis-matched eyes flick yet again to her Squad Leader when Bayless advices Sloane. She can't keep the laugh in. "If you also liked pain, torment, and potential humiliation… I'd see about setting you up with my cousin." The newest of the Raptor pilots shifts in her seat, resting her drawing on a knee so that she can look at Cornbread with a smile. "But I don't have a reason to be that spiteful to you," she nods her head, "Kalypso Leto."

A small, charming smile creeps over Sloane's face as he looks to Bayless. "I don't do that. Never. I mean sure, I notice." He shrugs, laughing at Orion's words. "Right I'm gonna take your advice over hers on that. You're a dude." He looks back to Bayless, another little shrug. "On the date, you pay attention to her pretty face, her words, and her smile. If it's meant to be, you don't have to sneak glances later." He looks to Orion. "Hey…notice, not stare. What I really need is a good date idea. The waterpark is drained. Is there dancing over there? Ballroom stuff?" He grins at Kalypso. "Antonio Sloane. Cornbread." He extends a hand.

Bayless smirks a bit at Orion then looks to Sloane while cocking a thumb towards Kalypso, "She'd be who to ask… Kalypso came to us off the Hera, y'know."

Orion snorts, "Yeah. Yeah I am, last I checked. Sounds to me like you got a 'theory versus practice' decision to make here." Orion's face is amusement, but he rolls his eyes a little, too. He falls quiet to finish his meal while it's still slightly warm. Cold eel is bad.

The offered hand is taken into a firm grip, after Kalypso has tucked her pencil behind her ear that is. Does… does she have a manicure? Not that it's likely to last now that she's on the Genesis. Kalypso's eyes drift towards Bayless and with a flush to her cheeks and a faint grimace she adds for Cornbread's benefit, "Also known as 'Wide Load'." Clearly this must be about something other than her figure because she's not exactly hefty. "I did come off the Hera, so if you need introducing to someone for some R&R, I'm sure I could see about getting you a flyboy groupie of your very own."

"Not necessary a flyboy groupie, but an honest date. I'm so busy nowadays around here I don't have so much time for the legwork before my leave comes up." Sloane grins, nodding Kalypso in Orion's direction. "Help my man over here get a piano." He winks, then turns a little so that he can regard all three of them. "So…"

Bayless glances to Kalypso and grins, "Sorry, girl, couldn't have given me a better idea there." She then looks to Sloane a bit quizzically and echoes, "So…?"

Orion tilts his head at Kalypso, pauses, and then laughs out loud at the rookie Raptor pilot, "You're frakking me. They saddled you with that? Bet you're sorry you said it now, huh?" He snickers and, finally, finishes his 'meal'. "Sounds to me like you're fixing to race me, huh? Cornbread needs quality tail. He's a military pilot. He lives fast, he lives large, and he don't know if he's gonna be alive tomorrow." The first and third are certainly truisms, though he doesn't sound like he's doing anything but fronting at this point. "She needs tits out to here, a figure that could kill an old man, and whoever finds her first gets his bed made by the other for a frakkin week." He points to Kalypso, aggressive but non-threatening.

Looking around the group, Sloane visibly blinks when Orion starts putting together the menu. "Wait what? Oh man I just lost control of this situation." He says with a laugh, running his hands down his face. He motions to Kalypso, to her nails, and then gives her a thumbs up before looking in Bayless' direction. "Scorch? Why do I get the feeling that this is going to turn into the rookie ceremony I never got?" He turns, taking up his coffee cup.

Kalypso laughs, the pencil still behind her ear. Her sketchbook is closed with a snap and there's a definite light of challenge in her eyes. She flashes her teeth at Orion — could be a smile or the expression of predatory challenge — and points her own finger at him. "You're on, Flask. You just be sure you tuck the corners in nice and tight on my bunk… oh, and maybe put one of those little red and white mints on my pillow."

Bayless glances to Orion. Then to Sloane. Then to Kalypso and back to Sloane. "Looks to me, Cornbread, that you get the feeling because that's exactly what's happening." She then looks to Kalypso and Orion, "Good hunting, you two."

Nobody else on the obs deck matters to Orion right this instant, "Bingo on those details, Wide Load. You gotta be able to bounce a quarter of of my bed or I ain't a happy guy. And no using yourself to win, either." Woah! "That's why I said how fine she's gotta be." WOAH! Ouch! Orion snickers to Kalypso and stands, "Gonna go practice my game face. I got some pretty things to tame."

"Damn…that had bite to it." Sloane replies, cringing at Orion's smack talking. He looks to Bayless again. "Yeah…I definitely just lost control of this…" He says as he turns to Orion and Kalypso, not missing a breath. "…Women only, please. I don't think I've managed to make a reputation with either of the two of you to deserve some sort of penance. Cmon, this is just hooking me up for a date."

Kalypso stands up, grinning at Orion. There's cheerful delight on her face at the prospective challenge. Poor Sloane. And then eyebrows shoot up, her lips compress together, as Orion says she can't use herself. Damn. Her lips curve again, though this time there's just a little something dangerous to it. "Alright, Flask. May the best woman win… and I do mean the best. Cornbread here deserves nothing less," she holds out her hand to Orion, "Winner makes the other's bed for a week, complete with mint on the pillow."

Bayless laughs a little at the antics in the room. "My my my, this does stand to look interesting…" She looks to Sloane with a wry smile. "Hope you know what you've wrought upon our little corner of the universe here."

Orion snorts, and snorts hard, "Yea'hah. You keep telling yourself that. And I'll shake, if you're big on that." He extends his arm to his fellow rookie, "But I don't want no frakkin mints, so I ain't gonna shake on those." Besides. They're not easy to come by.

"No…may the second best woman win." Sloane corrects sipping his coffee again. "Seriously guys, railroad over eachother as much as you feel but I'm really just looking to go on a date with that great girl I can't seem to find. Sure, the lot of the female pilots around here are absolutely smokin', but well… you know." He shrugs, sipping his coffee again. "…the lot of them seem to be already involved."

"I'll just see if one of my contacts on the Hera still has some mini-bottles of Scotch to put on your pillow for a nightcap then," Kalypso says, releasing Orion's hand. She snatches her sketchbook from the chair where she'd left it and grins over her shoulder at him. "Oh, wait… I forgot. You only drink during Condition Two." Ouch. Kalypso winks at Sloane and pats him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, hon. I'll take good care of you." The blonde nods her head at Lieutenant Bayless, "El Tee." And then she's moving towards the hatch. "I've got this man a date to find."

Bayless grins and nods to the departing Kalypso. "Good luck, Wideload, make me proud." She glances over to Orion with a friendly smile. "Luck to you also."

Orion is standing, holding an empty food tray and mug against his side with one hand, and is finishing a handshake with Kalypso with the other. Her comment makes the other pilot frown a bit. This just got -slightly- more serious, "Yeah. Yeah I do. And I shoot up during con one." He snorts and turns, starting his way out.

Sloane simply shakes his head and sips his coffee. He looks to Bayless with a sidelong smile. "Oh and if you ever need anything, I'm pretty good at hunting stuff down. I don't really have a price, I deal in pretty fair trade just so you know." He adds, setting his half empty mug down.

Micah slouches into the observation deck, hands shoved in the pockets of his fatigues. He halts when he spots the number of people— not just people, but pilots lounging about— and seems for a moment like he might vacate.

Orion walks out, tray in hand, looking ever so slightly irritated, but more energized than anything else. He comments, "Germain." as he walks past the man, adding a slight bit of emphasis to the word as he goes.

"Jailhouse," Kalypso says, nodding to Micah as she slips past him and out the hatch. She's a woman on a mission now. Nothing like a little friendly competition. Operation: Pimp Cornbread is a go.

Bayless rises from her seat and giggles as she makes her way to the hatch, then pauses briefly. "Two-piece. Sexy, not sleazy. And solid, no prints." She then heads for the hatch.

Micah doesn't even bother correcting Orion, this time. If he wants to mangle his last name, apparently he's welcome to it. "Ah'm not gonna ask," is muttered to the pair— make that trio, departing. And then he's rifling about for a cigarette as he starts for a chair.

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