This Didn't Happen
This Didn't Happen
Summary: After the Funeral Rite… some things didn't really happen. Or did they?
Date: 67 ACH
Related Logs: Who Bears the Toll?

Battlestar Genesis, Deck 9, Corridor 9A, 67 ACH

This corridor runs Fore and Aft, or front and back. The corridors curve with the ship structure and are low-lit with halogen. Crew and personnel of the Genesis move along on their daily routes and duties around the ship.

Maybe it isn't so much Chase's poorly timed entrance as it is the beginning of the hymn that really has Kalypso slipping out. She manages to hold in the sob until she reaches the hatch right behind Sloane and Chase and pushes out past the pair of them. But the water-works are definitely coming, which means she's going.

Sloane whispers something else to Chase and decides not to put his hands on the Specialist. Turning his back to the memorial service, he leads, ushering Chase out of the room.

Chase makes his way out, and then gives Sloane a somewhat helpless look of query, eyebrow arched and palms outstretched, as if to say "What?"

Kalypso pushes out of the Observation Deck, immediately after Sloane and Chase. There's already a flush to her cheeks, waterworks starting to form up in her eyes, and the sob that she was holding in slips out as she pushes between the two men in the hallway. The rookie Raptor pilot doesn't even make an apology as she works past, but she's hastily making her way to the stairwell.

Sloane balls a fist and grints his teeth. Speaking quietly, but quickly, he hisses at Chase. "What the frak is your problem man that's a funeral rite in there for downed pilots. I should break your face and I promise you specialist that if you don't listen to what the Captain said and deliver some strong liquor to the Rec Room you're going to have every pilot in this wing looking to break your ass." Sloane turns, starting after Kalypso. "Don't be there for the reception, Specialist and don't go back in there. I also suggest starting to write a formal apology." He turns and starts to jog after Kalypso, trying to catch up with her.

Battlestar Genesis, Deck 12, Corridor 12A, 67 ACH

This corridor runs Fore and Aft, or front and back. The corridors curve with the ship structure and are low-lit with halogen. Crew and personnel of the Genesis move along on their daily routes and duties around the ship. Ship storage lockers are along this area.

Kalypso doesn't stop when she hits the stairwell, and Sloane will have to hoof it to keep up with her. She's in good shape, plus she's taking those stairs two at a time… of course it's the choked off sobs and the tears in her eyes that impede her a little and give the man time to close the distance. By the time she reaches Deck Twelve the waterworks are on in full. She pushes open the hatch and staggers into the hallway to just lean against a wall.

Sloane finally catches up and looks around, not knowing exactly where they are as he was too busy focusing on catching up. Skidding to a stop near her, he doesn't do much more than reach out for her and put his arms on her shoulders. "Hey…" He says quietly, being the tall gentleman in the picture. If she comes forward to cry, it's her decision. He simply offers the contact comfort.

"Gods…" Kalypso chokes out. She doesn't quite react at first when Sloane puts his hands on her shoulders. She kind of knows where they are, as this was her intended destination of flight. There's a storage closet on this end of the Deck that she'd scoped out before for a little privacy. In fact it's not very far from where she stopped. Instinctual reaction has her moving into the offered comfort and burrying her face into Sloane's shoulder. It's not entirely certain that Kalypso realizes who he is right now, as the fact that she was being followed didn't register. Instead she leans in, wraps her arms around and just lets it out. Shoulders shaking, gulping in air between tears, the whole works.

Sloane wraps his arms around her shoulders and pulls her against him protectively. Being the tall, thin stuffed giraffe that he is, he rests his cheek atop her head and simply remains quiet. Letting her get it out, he rubs her back softly. He doesn't issue a single word to her, letting the moment collapse into a soft silence despite her sobbing.

At some point during Sloane's kind gesture of comforting, something clicks in Kalypso. For a second her whole body goes rigid and the sobbing halts. She lets out a little choked off sound. The tears are definitely still leaking out of her eyes, however. "Frak…" she moves her hands so that they're between her and Sloane, blinking her eyes though she can't quite see him clearly through the blurry haze of tears. "Back off. Just… I need to be alone." And with that she's somewhat roughly pushing Sloane away from her. "Just back the frak off. Leave me alone." Her jaw tenses, there's a quiver of her lip. And that probably just pisses her off more because of how vulnerable she is right now and she looks every inch of it.

When she shoves him, Sloane lets go and moves his arms out to the side. Respecting her distance, he stays within arm's reach but doesn't attempt to move towards her. "Allright allright…I'm back." He says, looking to her. Ignoring the wet spots on his formal uniform, he looks down to her in a non-pittying manner. "You don't have to be alone, Kalypso, but I'm here if you need me. I'm not judging." He lowers his hands, looking to the floor.

Hastily Kalypso swipes at her cheeks. Not that the gesture really helps, the evidence is still there and threatening for round two. "Leave me the frak alone," she says. The quaver in her voice ruins the real venom in it, so the hostile words don't have as much bite as she might have been going for. Maybe enough to where he might know she's not really pissed at him, just the situation. She turns on her heel and starts down the hallway. "Don't frakking follow me. I WANT to be alone." And as soon as she reaches the storage closet she grabs the handle, jerks it open and steps inside. SLAM!

Sloane turns and watches Kalypso retreat, quietly observing. Frowning, feeling horrible for her, he blinks as the door is slammed shut. For a moment, he considers staying nearby just in case, but then he slowly turns and makes his way silently back towards the stairwell. Spinning the door open, he sighs and steps inside, heading back down towards deck 9.

Battlestar Genesis, Deck 12, Storage 12-H44, 67 ACH

This storage room is for various areas on the deck. It has a set of double doors and within boxes and supplies are stacked in neat rows.

Orion is sitting in… well, it's not actually his uniform. The man has learned -that- lesson, at least. He's wearing sweats, clutching a bottle of scotch, and taking sips. He doesn't really look like a mess, but he's sitting here, drinking in the dark. Or was. Kalypso might notice the presence. She might not. He certainly doesn't say anything. Not yet, anyway.

Kalypso is still in her dress grays, her hair still perfectly coifed in a french twist. The only thing that mars her appearance is the obvious fact that she's been crying. Post-slamming of the door, Kalypso jerks the lock into place. Hard. She holds onto the door for several long breaths, attempting to listen to be sure that she is not, in fact, being pursued in here. She'd hate to have to deck Cornbread for trying to be a nice guy. Of course, this is when she notes the subtle scent of scotch in the air and the fact that she's not as alone as she had hoped she'd be.

Orion sets the bottle down. All Kalypso is likely to notice is a -clank-, unless her eyes are adjusting, "You ain't a delivery guy, a janitor, a stock fella, or anything like that by chance, are ya?" Orion sounds a little drunk… and a little annoyed. He slides upwards, to stand on his feet.

It'll take a bit for Kalypso's eyes to adjust. Not only the change in lighting from the hallway to the darkened storage closet, but her eyes are still blurry from the tears. Of course, she recognizes that voice, even slightly drunk as it sounds. "Frak… I had to pick the one frakkin' storage closet where you're hittin' the bottle. This is my closet, Flask. Go get your own," Kalypso doesn't sound drunk. To the contrary, she sounds upset and aggravated.

Orion narrows his gaze, "Leto, this ain't the time… nor the frakkin place. You wanna bawl up somewhere, that's fine." He steps towards her, "That's your right. Can't frakkin blame you none, either. But I'm here and I ain't walkin' out until I'm good and sober again. You're goin'." He points one arm at the door, and the other hand forms an index finger right in her face. "Not me."

The glossy shine to Kalypso's eyes may or may not hide the flash in them. There's such a fine line between tears and anger for her and as Orion gets up and moves her way, she takes a few steps towards him to meet him there. How dare he interrupt her need for alone time! She came in here to avoid hitting someone, but it looks like that's not going to work out. "I'm not frakkin' going anywhere, Scala," she says. She swipes her hand to knock the finger he thrusts in her face away. Her cheeks puff out, still with their trails of drying tears and she then jabs a finger at his chest. "Don't stick your frakkin' finger in my face. I'm not leaving!"

Kalypso's swipe at Orion's hand doesn't go unnoticed, and Orion is juuust drunk enough to do it again, pointing at her, "I'm the one who's been frakking drinking, flygirl." He glares a bit, "Not you. I ain't going out there looking like this. You can boo hoo anywhere you want, but if you want alone time, you're gonna have to either pretend I ain't here, or go."

"If you want to frakkin' get hammered, you should go to the Godsdamned barracks and let those of us who want to be alone… BE alone," Kalypso snaps out. Orion's finger is met with with another swat of her hand and this time she holds on and gets into his face. "I said keep your frakkin' finger out of my face, Scala." She's close enough now that she can smell the alcohol on his breath plenty clear. "You insensitive asshole."

<Opposed Roll> Orion - Unarmed_Combat versus Kalypso - Unarmed_Combat
<Roll1> Orion: Fair <Roll2> Kalypso: Mediocre
<Result> Orion WINS by 1.

Orion shoves the Raptor pilot backwards, glaring back at her and pulling his hand free, "You're such a frakking -bitch-, Wide Load. What the frak is your frakking problem? Why you gotta get all up in my frakking face? Huh?!" Sure. He got in HER face, technically… and one can't use the word 'frak' enough in conversation, right? He also stalks towards Kalypso, making up the space he gained by shoving her, "Grow the frak up. Welcome to the frakking Genesis, dumpling. Life sure is a bitch, ain't it?"

<Opposed Roll> Kalypso - Unarmed_Combat versus Orion - Unarmed_Combat
<Roll1> Kalypso: Fair <Roll2> Orion: Good
<Result> Orion WINS by 1.

Kalypso grunts as she's knocked back by the drunken Viper jock. Her back strikes a stack of boxes. If she wasn't already mad, she certainly would be now. He just took it a step too far with that shove and the woman's lips peel back from her lips in a snarl. "And you're a frakking asshole. You frakking got in my face first you frakhead," she retorts. Both of her hands come up in an attempt to give Orion a shove, but there's not quite enough leverage behind it and the effort doesn't even move him. Rather, she just sets herself up to his advantage. "GROW UP? Grow the frak up?! YOU grow the frak up, frakking farmboy!"

<Opposed Roll> Orion - Unarmed_Combat versus Kalypso - Unarmed_Combat
<Roll1> Orion: Mediocre <Roll2> Kalypso: Fair
<Result> Kalypso WINS by 1.

Oh, it is on. Orion growls, "Motherfrakker!" There was apparently a reason why he wanted to be alone. He lunges forward and comes out swinging. His fist should've connected right with Kalypso's face, but a quick duck out of the way screws that up, royally. The ensuing shove is just what he needs when he's off balance, sending him backwards to back into another stack of boxes, which teeter precariously.

<Opposed Roll> Kalypso - Unarmed_Combat versus Orion - Unarmed_Combat
<Roll1> Kalypso: Fair <Roll2> Orion: Poor
<Result> Kalypso WINS by 2.

Kalypso has Orion off balance now and she takes the opening she's made. She reaches out with one hand to snatch him by his shirt and jerks him forward to further off-set his balance. The other hand comes in a quick little jab to his face. Try to hit her in her face, will he? Oh, she'll show him. The bright side? This little scuffle has taken her mind off of what she was crying about. "Hard-headed Bastard," she growls, shaking out her hand. She's still got her other hand tangled in his shirt.

<Opposed Roll> Orion - Unarmed_Combat versus Kalypso - Unarmed_Combat
<Roll1> Orion: BeyondTerrible* *BOTCH* <Roll2> Kalypso: Mediocre
<Result> Kalypso WINS by 4.

POP! Orion reels backwards, nose a little bloody. Now he's further off balance. He glares at Kal like he'd like to tear her lungs out by thought alone. But that's not going to do. Off balance, staggered, and drunk, he simply opens himself up again for…

Pain. And suffering.

Kalypso has the advantage of being sober and adrenaline is working fully in her favor now as she uses the man's momentum against him. There's a thud-clang sort of sound as Kalypso shifts her weight and sends Orion toppling. It's a subtle hook of her foot that sends him to the floor with her following to land on top of him. The heat of the moment is still with her and she hails her fists down against his chest. It's not entirely Orion that she's unleashing on, but he makes for a hell of a convenient target. "Asshole. Motherfraking asshole. Frakking farmboy…" the curses eventually trail off and her fists aren't exactly doing any real damage. It's more expendature of energy now that just dwindles until her open palms are resting on his chest, her body stradeling over his. Some of her hair has escaped the neat and tidy twist she had it in, loose blonde locks framing her face. She's breathing heavy, chest heaving, and her eyes lock down on his. Damn.

<Opposed Roll> Orion - Agility versus Kalypso - Unarmed_Combat
<Roll1> Orion: Great <Roll2> Kalypso: Mediocre
<Result> Orion WINS by 3.

<Trait Roll> Orion rolls Willpower and achieves a degree of Fair (3).
<Trait Roll> Kalypso rolls Willpower and achieves a degree of Mediocre (2).

Nose bloodied, world positively spinning, Orion grabs ahold of Kalypso's arms. He can't quite stop her from beating him, but he tries. Once she finally stops moving, however? He's got her. His arms wrap around hers and pull them aside. His elbows mash against Kalypso's chest. Legs prepare to topple her off of him, and then he catches her face, the entire situation, and just -stops-. One can practically see the lightning bolts running through his expression.

Kalypso doesn't blink. She never quite realized just how blue his eyes were before, though even in the darkened closet she notices now. These close quarters, adrenaline pumping, hearts racing from the scuffle, what happens next is almost inevitable. The electric tingle of chemistry is well felt and on impulse, she goes with it. It's just a simple matter of leaning those last few inches, millimeters to press her lips to his. Her right hand slides out of his grip and up, to curl against the back of his head. Of course, then her eyes slide shut.

What starts as a protest doesn't end that way. Orion touches his hand to her face, initially wanting to push her away. His body tenses like a wire, and then he just goes with it. It's not like she's enlisted. The consequences are… and then he stops even thinking about those, widening his lips, kissing her back, and slowly letting himself go. His left hand finds her back and presses against her spine while the other runs through the back of her hair.

[Fade to black…]

[Fade back in on the sounds of kissing to see the pair of pilots still on the floor engaged in hot and heavy make-out session. It's a runaway train that is badly in need of a warning bell to call it off before things get any further.]

Scccrrzzzt! That broken record sound can almost be heard somewhere in the soundtrack. That warning bell must have found its way on and it is suddenly loud and clear that this moment is about to go somewhere that the female pilot doesn't want it to go. It's like coming out of a haze. Or possibly more like having cold water dumped on you when you're dreaming. One second she's completely into it and the next she's coming to her senses and pulling away. It's abrupt and Kalypso pushes off of Orion and sits back on her heels. "Holy frak…" she says, "Woah, cowboy." She gives a quick shake, hastily tucking her shirt back in, attempting to fix buttons as she stands — albiet a little wobbly. And then the mood-killer, "If you got blood on my uniform, there'll be hell to pay." The bitch is back.

A bucket of needed water. Orion stares back up at Kalypso as if she has nine heads. "This…" Blink. "This… no." He rubs his temples and struggles back up, "This didn't frakking happen, we didn't see each other… we obviously didn't…" He's not even going to say 'kiss'. "Frak. Me." Blood is running down his nose. Some is on her face, as well.

Kalypso just shakes her head. No. Nope. This didn't happen. He's right about that one. She reaches into a pocket and pulls out a handkerchief, that same lace one that she'd loaned to Dynames that was washed and returned. With it she wipes the blood from her face and then throws it in his. "Clean up. Nothing happened here except you tripping over some boxes," she turns on her heel and grabs the latch on the door, "Frakking you is the farthest thing from my mind." Oh, yeah? Well, why are her cheeks still all flushed? He can probably hear her mutter, "Gods, I need a cold shower," as she steps back out into the hall.

And then the hatch closes, leaving Orion in the darkness with his booze.

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