Small Talk
Small Talk
Summary: Small talk at the bar, Sloane chats with Melia
Date: Early 86 ACH
Related Logs: Wrong Side of Bed

Envy Destiny - Deck 9
86 ACH 23817 Souls

This is, or was, a private men's club aboard the cruise liner. Simple, yet effective. Low lighting, with a tinge of gold, sets the scene as scantily clad women move about. Yes, this is a strip club. Booths surround the walls, while small tables litter the rest of the room. To one side, a long bar is set, while across from it a cresant moon catwalk, complete with poles on the stage, and stools next to it, allows the customer to see the lovely ladies dancing.
In the back, across from the hatch leading out, is a curtained doorway, leading to the back office, as well as a few private 'VIP' rooms.
Please read +lhelp rating
----< Condition Two - Public Area >----—-

McKenzie looks up at Sasha, her smile startled, "Who, me? Uh. Yeah. Just a bit'f paper and a pen or something. I'd like t'leave Miss. Cinnimon a note. Like she said." She looks over the bar toward Roy but does not bother the man. Turning, she leans a bit against it, so she can see everyone. Melia is given a smile, though she does not interrupt her reverie.

Melia glances over at Paris, startled, then turns pink again. "Thank you," she says with a sigh, glancing past him to McKenzie and smiling a bit. "I utterly disgraced the Navy on that pole. Good thing I wasn't in uniform." Good on SO many different levels.

Sloane steps in, hands in his pockets as he takes a look around. Heading towards the bar, he orders a bottle of beer from Roy before he leans his back against the bar to scan across the room.

Sasha looks curious, but not curious enough to ask. Probably McKenzie just wants some time alone with the pyramid pro. Briefly checking his watch, he snuffs out his cigarette and pushes away from the bar. Speaking of time alone, "I've got a date to get to, Roy. Thanks for the drink." His empty glass is slid back across the counter, and the dancer's sauntering off backstage after giving the customers at the bar a wiggle of his fingers goodbye.

Paris is there with all the other barflys, back to it, sipping something on the rocks. He has a bruise on one side of his jaw, but is apparently incorrigible despite it. He's bugging Melia now, and bugging is a pretty accurate word for it. "Oh come on, that's a little melodramatic. Nothing disgraceful about it… I mean, a little provocative - but you're off duty." He smirks. "Gonna come back for more lessons? You could be a regular fixture in no time." He's… encouraging naval women to become full time strippers, now. Jeez.

Leaning a hip against the bar, he pays for his beer and then sips from it. Lighting a dwindling pack of cigarettes, he looks in Paris' direction and keeps an eye on him as he speaks with Melia. Nodding to Sasha as he heads off, he turns to sidelong listen to the conversation.

Melia waves to Sasha and watches him longingly for a moment. Is it the man or the fact that he's escaping? Hard to tell. "No," she tells Paris, shaking her head rather emphatically in the negative. "My pole lessons are MORE than finished. After that spill? I'd likely have a heart attack."

Paris chuckles a bit at Melia's reaction. Ok, so naval strippers is a long shot. Still, he's evidently having a little fun teasing her. "Another spill like that, and you'd give someone in the -audience- a heart attack." A wide grin. "It was… quite a view, at least for a few brief moments there."

Cornbread tilts his eyes towards Paris' back, taking in a long, slow breath to exhale his cigarette smoke. Taking up his beer bottle, he drinks from it quietly at the bar.

McKenzie chuckles and shrugs, "Y'did better'n I would have, PO. No question." She steps to one side when Sloane moves up to the bar. Nodding to Sasha, she offers the man a smile that might be considered a little shy. When paper and pen are provided, she scribbles a quick note and leaves it for Andi. She does not fold it, nor put it in an envelop, so either it isn't provocative or she does not give a shit. Turning back as she hears about the spill, she grins at Melia, "Uh. Okay, maybe we'd've been even."

Melia looks over at McKenzie and grins wryly. "Oh, so another senior officer was here to see me flash my unmentionables into the mentionable," she asks, looking like she's going to start whimpering at any moment. "I guess if I had to go ass over teakettle, this was the place to do it -right-." She toasts Paris and Sloane before taking a drink of her coffee, like it were whiskey.

That's something Paris can drink to, for sure. He matches Melia's toast, and takes a slug from his own glass. "Hear hear. Nothing lost over a little bit revealed among strippers and lowlifes." Well, strippers, lowlifes, and the visiting colonial navy. But he's not going to speak for them. "Didn't look half bad, if you ask me. Y'know… minus the falling part."

Sloane lifts his bottle and tilts it towards his forehead in a salute of sorts to Melia. Taking a drink alongside her, he sets the bottle down on a coaster and then ashes his cigarette. Taking another pull from it, he decides he's going to speak now. "So…Paris, how'd ya get that shiner?" He asks without a hint of venom in his voice.

McKenzie shakes her head, "Nope. I missed the show, PO. But, I'd have to agree. Here's the place to take that kinda misstep." She lifts a brow at Paris' comment, then shakes her head with a laugh, "Nah, dude! Here where folk're used to seeing that sorta thing, I'm guessin'. But, shit, I'm the wrong one to ask, like's not." Turning to Melia, she winks, "So, which's it? Strippers an' lowlifes, or folk used to it?" Now, she did notice the bruise, but wasn't going to make a point of it. Now that someone else did? She turns a curious glance toward Paris.

The Shy One has apparently just noticed the bruise as well. "The strippers aren't that bad," Mellie comments. "Not as bad as Momma always told me, anyway."

Paris's head turns when Sloane speaks up. He answers without any kind of reservation, "Oh, Kaly gave it to me. Slugged me pretty hard after she woke up." Apparently, there's no real hard feeligns on his side about the incident, as he can have a laugh about it. To McKenzie, "Well, what if some old guy came in?" He grins. "Still figure its more chance of some poor sap croakin' during the show than her actually, -literally- dying of embarassment. Cute red cheeks aside." And he laughs a bit more. "Nah, good people around here. Cinnamon's a real sweetheart, and Nick has pretty good taste in general - won't hire the really trashy types."

"Ah…" Sloane nods in response, taking a sip of his beer. Turning to face the bar, he glances at Melia for a moment and then pops a peanut into his mouth. Simply 'ah' is all he says. Lifting his eyebrows a little as he drags off of his cigarette, he taps the ashes into the tray in front of him.

McKenzie glances over at Melia, "Folk'r folk, PO. There's the good an' bad everywhere. Someone's occupation don't define their personality 'r their personal honor. Those're better ways t' judge folk'n what they do, yeah?" She smiles at the younger woman, then looks back at Paris. She blinks, agreeing silently with Sloane. After a moment, she chuckles, "She's gotta good hook. Good t' know." Best not to piss her off, then. Pushing from the bar, she nods to the others, "Goin' to catch some sleep. Catch y'all in the morning." Her smile warms a bit as she waves to the group.

Melia dips her head to McKenzie, smile warming. "Evening, Sir," she says quietly, then looks back to Sloane and Paris. "You're a pilot, if I'm not mistaken, Sir," she asks Sloane. "Viper?"

Paris, the bad? "Jeez, lot you act like its her funeral or something," he mutters. "Bet if any one of you took some civie home there'd be hi-fives all around." Its the sort of thing, in the present situation with their naval guests, the sort of thing that is likely just simmering there in his thoughts. The man decides to voice it. And then, somewhat abruptly, he turns around to keep his attention on Sloane. "Tony, lemme ask you. There some guy on your ship named Dion? Boyfriend of hers?"

Sloane nods to Melia. "It's been a while since we've spoken, but yes. You wrapped my ribs after a fairly nasty boxing incident with the Sheriff." Sloane nods to Melia and then turns to look at Paris. "No there isn't. That's personal information of hers I'm not at liberty to give." Sloane takes another sip of his beer. He shrugs a little. "Look I'm not your dad or your keeper, neither am I hers, but I've never really viewed 'bagging' a civvie to be a high five matter…" He starts, trailing off to an interupt point.

Mellie's brows pull together even more as Paris mentions Dion. Then, for whatever reason, those brows explode upward and she looks more like a Precious Moments figurine than a Naval Officer. Her expression is one that's generally referred to as "Oh, frakking shit."

Its… maybe its a little different than the answer he expected to get? Although it seems Paris can take something from that. Glancing at Melia, he notes her very shocked look, and then he quickly looks back to Sloane, catching his own… mood. He holds up his hands. "Alright, just wanted to know if I was frakking some other guy's girl." It matters to him? Well, a lot of different reasons it could matter. "Figured it might've been a boyfriend." Repeating it once, he shrugs. Drink. "Well I've seen plenty of naval folk in off duty, and not leave alone. Just sayin'." Apparently, he's not going to push it too far, and he's asked the one thing he wanted to.

Sloane rolls his eyes. "Class." He says, taking a moment to sip from his beer. Setting the bottle down, he takes another drag off of his cigarette. Sloane shakes his head a little bit. He looks over to Melia and gives her a slight nod before looking to Paris. "Hey it's cool. We're all friends here. I think it's a horrible thing to take advantage of a blindly drunk girl who doesn't even know where she is." He salutes his beer bottle to the guy. "I'm just sayin'." He says with a fake smile.

Melia glances to the two men for a moment, smiling faintly. For some reason, she looks caught between crying and throwing up. Amazing how twenty minutes can change a mood. "I…think it's time to head to the rack," she tells the two of them, subdued. "Have a good night."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Paris mutters. "Bunch of you come around with your problems, looking to blow off steam, get frakked up, and the problem is -anything- but yours. Blame it on someone else." Clearly, the negativity is way way up, and there's not likely to be much more funtime chat at the bar. Even ever-present Paris looks like he might be getting ready to go, putting his glass down. "Tell you one thing: that girl - your friend? - is hurtin' bad, and not from me." He pushes away, and turns away.

Sloane looks to Melia and mouths the word 'sorry' to her. Finishing the last of his beer, he stubs out his cigarette and leans up from the bar to stand beside Melia. "I'll walk you back." He says with a nod to her and then looks to Paris. He simply shakes his head and lets it drop. "I've said what I've wanted to say." He looks to Melia. "You ready to go?"

Melia looks up at Sloane, wide-eyed, then nods, offering him a small smile. "I…yes, thank you," she says politely.

Nodding and letting out a slow breath, he turns and starts to walk towards the door. Grimmacing a little, he looks in the direction that Paris went to. "Sorry about that, that was…ugly. It should have been a private conversation." He offers, looking to her.

"He was with Wide Load last night, wasn't he," she asks, voice low and soft. Yes, she calls Kaly by her callsign, oddly enough.

Sloane opens his mouth as if about to say something and then simply closes it with a little sigh. He flattens his lips. That's answer enough. "He doesn't respect women."

Melia looks like she's about to say more, but she shakes her head and sighs quietly. "I don't know," she says, finally. "I wasn't there. It's not my place to judge. If she wants to file charges, she'll file them. Though it looks like she got her retribution in the form of a nasty right hook."

"Yeah…it definitely looks like that. I didn't want to come across like I was alpha-wolfing but…" He chooses his words carefully. "…from what I saw last night he seemed more interested in getting her out of there before anyone could inform her of what was happening. I'd keep an eye on that guy."

Mellie lifts a shoulder and smiles softly. "Thank you for the concern, but I'm…not interested, truth be told. He's not my type. I spent most of this evening with the Sheriff, trying to make sure someone had some fun."

Sloane smiles. "Then I'm sorry if I broke up your conversation. I'm sorry I didn't stay for the class, but Chione was working hard all day and I wanted to make sure she was doing okay." Sloane nods. "You know, I won't press the issue on that guy anymore but damn it felt good to dropkick his 'game' into oblivion."

Her head tilts back and Mellie smiles up at him, softly. "He didn't have game to kick," she says with a grin. Wait, Paris didn't have game? She must not like men, then. He had -very- nice game. "She looked tired. I was hoping to get to see her today for a bit."

"I plan on seeing her later tonight. I'll let her know that you were hoping to talk with her. Nudge her in your direction." Sloane says. Rumor had it that Chione and him disappeared from the berthings and didn't return until they were seen around the next day. "Yeah…ever since last night she's been busting her back to make sure everything's taken care of. She's a really hard worker. So I didn't have anything to do today so I did dishwashing."

"I handled laundry," Mellie says quietly. "It was good, honest work. I got to meet some civilians and hopefully was on my best behavior."

"Yeah I got a few dirty looks myself, but I got some surprised ones too, which is a good sign." He nods in reply. He smiles. "Felt good. Reminded me of basic."

Melia laughs softly at that and nods. "It reminded me of home," she explains simply. "And don't point her in my direction, just let her know I was asking about her. She's busy enough as it is."

"Allright, allright. Yeah I wouldn't word it like a need, but more a social thing…" Sloane pauses. "We took lunch today at the cafe with the food getting handed out. Why don't you come on by over there at lunchbell and we'll make a chance meeting out of it. Gods know she loves the company." He smiles brightly to her. "So how have you been, Sullivan?"

"Tired," she replies after a moment. "I've been studying in my off hours, so that's been taking up most of my time. This was my first free time in, oh, three weeks now." Her lips twist crookedly.

"I can understand that. I had a lot of leave stored up lately that I've saved. I've used some of it lately, but aside from that we've been pretty swamped lately too with the CAP rotations." Sloane replies. "What are you studying?"

"A little of everything," she says with a laugh, walking beside him. "It's a way to keep me out of trouble," for the most part. "And give me something to do during off-duty hours. Right now, it's chemistry."

"So are you working towards a degree equivalency?" Sloane tilts his head. "Or are you just doing it for knowledge sake?" He asks, pausing as they near a doorway towards the elevator section. He opens it for her, letting her go through.

"Degree equivalency," she tells him. "I escaped home so I could learn, and figured I'd have a lot more time to do it." She brushes past him. "I was…wrong."

Heading in after her, he lets the door close behind him. He nods and tilts his head a little bit. "Yeah…" He nods. "…everything got frakked up." He sympathizes. He looks to her. "…but you're still hitting the books despite which is pretty cool. I respect that."

"To say it got frakked up would be an understatement," she tells him with a wry glance. "But that's life. We either adapt or get thrown under the bus." At least she's pragmatic about things.

Sloane nods to that wry glance. "Yeah…" He simply manages in response. "…that about sums it up. A good number of us pilots don't get much time for studying or anything of the sort because we're hitting so many shifts, CAPs, working with deck crew, sims…we've got to keep our skillset hot in the forge when we're not doing what we do best. I don't complain though. This is what I do best."

Melia quirks a brow at him slightly. "And yes, while the pilots are up in the air, the rest of us are on the frakking ships keeping OUR skillsets hot in the forge because there's not a damned one of you who can walk down a flight of steps without hitting at least three fists on your way down," she comments tartly. "Yes, the pilots are hotshot and badass, but so are the rest of us who have to put the pilots back together."

"Oh no no…" Sloane laughs a little, looking to Melia with a pose of surrender. "I totally didn't mean it that way. Everyone's doing their part and that's not just lip service." He apologizes. "I just meant to convey that many of us are really obsessed with our jobs. I don't know how it is in other departments, but at least in ours I'd say flying enters the realm of borderline obsession. That's all."

"Humph," she says quietly, chin coming up stubbornly. "I don't mean to paint you with the same brush as others, but the pilots aboard Battlestar Genesis, the ones I've met, have been the sweetest, most bloody emotional roller coasters I've ever met."

Sloane grins broadly. "I focus all of my emotion into awkward humor." He looks to where they're walking, following along beside her. He gives a little shrug. "We're a bit of trouble here and there, but who's not anymore? I haven't heard too much trouble come out of engineering and medical no doubt." He chuckles. "We're a bunch of rascals."

Mellie grins up at him after a moment. "Medical doesn't get into trouble," she tells him primly. "And if we do, it's somewhere none of the other departments can -see-." Yep, there's a grin.

"Now there's the skill…" Sloane replies. "It's a skill I haven't quite mastered. I try to float along the disapproving glare level and not too much higher because I don't wanna risk getting taken off of rotation." He shrugs. "Besides, keeping out of trouble means I won't get my leave cancelled which means I can actually manage to take my girl out on dates."

Melia chuckles softly. "Which can be a very important thing, yes," Mellie replies, then pulls up in front of the bunks. "Ok, this is me. Time for a long hot shower to soak away the shame of the pole."

Sloane smiles, offering a set of knuckles to bump against Melias. "You're good folk, Sullivan." He nods, looking for someone (most likely Chione) and then back to her. "Sleep tight, see you in the job corps in the AM…"

Melia bumps knuckles with him, smiling, then disappears into bunks.

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