You Can Choose Your Friends
You Can Choose Your Friends
Summary: The bet is a draw, Chione has claws, and Micah has a serious cough.
Date: 62 ACH
Related Logs: Pimp My Cornbread etc.
Players:
Kalypso..Orion..Micah..Chione..Craven..Addie..Jocasta..

Battlestar Genesis, Deck 12, Ares Squadron Berthings, 62 ACH

Ares Squadron is the Raptor squadron 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 viper squadron.


There are a few members of Ares tucked away in their bunks, curtains closed in an attempt to get a little shut-eye. Others are out elsewhere in the ship, the gym, mess hall, and then there are those getting ready to go on duty or just returning from duty. It's just another day on the Genesis and another day of wondering how much longer the fleet will avoid the cylons. One doesn't want to get too comfortable. Too comfortable could lead to getting sloppy, or getting someone killed.

Kalypso is presently on the floor next to her bunk doing a few push-ups. By the way her uniform lays neatly on top of her sheets, it looks like she's getting ready to go on duty and that the push-ups must be part of her routine for doing so. She's in off-duty attire, dog tags jangling as she lowers herself to the ground and then pushes back upward again.

Orion steps inside, then peers around for someone. He's spent so little time in here and knows Kalypso's bunk is bound to be somewhere. The pilot scans the room and… ah hah. Visual, bearing two-niner, range three meters. Heading… well it's doing pushups. It's not heading anywhere. He wanders over and leans against her bunk, not saying a word. Just waiting to be noticed.

Orion's not the only one seeking refuge from gold berthings. Micah jaunts on in not too far behind, stripped down to offduties with his hands shoved in trousers' pockets. It's actually Jocasta's bunk he glances toward initially.. and finds her absent. Frak.

The hatch is opened to the Ares Berthings and the warmth from the air is sucked right out. A maelstrom of fury and cold whirls around Chione Dike as she strides in. While the woman's face may seem placid, those blue eyes rage with icy doom and benevolence. For this oment, she is the spitting image of her mother's full glory. "Kaly, there you are. I am so frakkin' tired of people assuming what I am like because of my last name! How DO you do it? I try to stike up a conversation about coffee and suddenly it turned into a conversation about me being stuck on myself! WHAT. THE. FRAKKING. HE… "

"…llo… there are other people in here," notes Chione, her voice and demeanor suddenly changing, a heartbeat and the woman has gone from a vengeful goddess to a smile and innocent air. "I suppose I should have looked before I went onto a rant. Ensign Chione Dike, Nav-Tac in CIC," she notes to Orion, before turning her blue eyes next to the other occupant. "Hello again, Jailhouse."

"What do you-" Kalypso's question breaks in the middle as she pushes herself back up, "-want Flask?" Last one of the set, back down to the ground she lowers herself, holding the position for a moment. "Have too much to drink and take a wrong turn? Gold is on the other side of the hall. Or are you here to make my bed?" She pushes back up and pops to her feet dusting her hands off. It is then that the Chione tornado whirls into the berthings. A curtain twitches open where one member of Ares was trying to catch some zees and a cold glare is directed out at the loud-mouthed offenders before the curtain is closed. Kalypso, almost ensign and still sort of the odd-woman-out with her squad winces apologetically and then cuts her eyes at Chione. "Because I don't give a damn what people think?"

Orion crosses his ankles and leans, just watching Kalypso do pushups. His expression is blank until Chione walks in. She illicits an eyebrow raise until she starts screaming, at which point the man just cringes a little. He finally shrugs and says, "Wow. I just got noooo comment at all, you know that?" A dim chuckle there. "Dike, I'll just take that as a warning for my own damned good, if you catch my drift. I right know a woman with retractable claws when I see one, and I believe I just saw you testing the retrieval mechanism, but could you… you know. Not shout in here?" He whispers loudly, "Some of Ares is -sleeping-." Then shrugs, turning to Kalypso, "Yeah, about that. You know… seems pretty clear to me that Cornbread done got himself a -pair- of girls. You get him one he wouldn't wanna kick out of bed? I mean, I'm just checking here."

"Lords of motherfrakkin' kobol, keep your frakkin' voice down while ah've still got some hearing left," Micah mutters without so much as turning to look at Chione. There's another glance toward Jocasta's bunk, as if to confirm she hasn't materialised suddenly in the past few minutes. And then he paces on through. A pack of cigarettes— Chione may in fact recognise them— are tossed onto the table and he begins shrugging out of his fatigue jacket. Apparently, he's prepared to wait for the ECO.

An eyebrow arches towards Jailhouse, specifically, "You'd rather I yell in the Officer Berthings when Lieutenant Sloan is trying to sleep? No. Frakkin. Thank You, I am not upsetting a, well, anyway…" she notes, before looking over towards the closed curtain. "Though I didn't realize there were people in here trying to sleep either. A bad call on my behalf," she does not for Kalypso's and Orion's behalf. The cigarettes are eyed, before, she looks at Orion a moment, then over at Kalypso, before outright laughing. "Is THAT why he couldn't stay on the treadmill yesterday when I walked back into the gym?! And no, they're not retractable, they are very firmly attatched claws, if I break them it takes them forever to grow back."

"Yeah, Chi, folks do sleep in here. Just like in the Officer Berthings, we got folks in here coming off CAPs and everything else that just want a bit of time for shut-eye while they can get it," Kalypso says. She gives a mildly irritated look at Orion and then turns, "What do you mean he's got two girls? How the frak does that work? I put the note right in his locker…" She shakes her head and then turns her back to start peelilng clothes off and change into her uniform. Someone's getting ready to go on duty now. "And I got Cornbread a date with someone he ought to have a good time with who just so happens to be a former super-model…" she glances over her bare shoulder at her cousin, though there's just a little bit of a wince involved, "You know, if you want people not to assume your family name equates to snob, you might want to try not reinforcing it with the attitude. It's a lousy defense mechanism." Pot meet kettle.

Orion casts a glance towards Micah, eyeing the other man as if to ask, 'Is she for real?', then turns back to Chione, "Ensign Scala, Orion." It's not stand-offish, but Orion is making no bones about the fact that he doesn't like Chione one lousy bit. He narrows his eyes and turns towards Kalypso, "What, Cornbread didn't send you that frakked up memo on official letterhead where he asked us to move his dates, with an s, to another ship because the guy's too scared to call up himself?" He presses his back to the framework of Kal's bunk and folds his arms over his chest, peering upwards, "You put the note in… well why in Hades did ya do -that- for? You datestamp it or something?"

Micah mostly ignores the drama unfolding nearby, save for a smirking— and knowing— glance returned to his fellow gold squadmate. He eases into a chair at the table and rocks back in it comfortably, taking his time about opening the box of cigarettes and slipping one out. Hair damp and glued to his skull, he's obviously just come out of a shower. "You are so full of hot air," he asides to Chione, talking around the unlit cigarette between his lips, "ah'm fair surprised you don't jus' start lifting off of your own accord like a helium balloon."

Chione turns and offers a sweet smile at Micah. "Hey, you only call it like you know it, eh, Jailhouse?" she drawls sweetly. "You really should give up smoking, it ages your skin something aweful." Then Chione turns back to Orion, arching an eyebrow upwards, curiously. "Dates, mmm? So this bet I heard between you and Kalypso, you managed to find Ensign Sloane a date as well? Dates, plural… interesting," she notes, the wheels spinning in the young woman's mind, before those blue eyes fall on Kalypso's back again, her face that placid mask once more. "Yeah, I guess you're right, Kaly. I should stop it with the attitude. I just get right on with the good example you've set for me on this ship. Or maybe I'll move to see if I can join in the Dionystic Rites they hold at Temple, they're a blast, right, Leto?" she drawls, before spinning on her heel and marching her way out of the Ares Berthings.

"The hell would I datestamp it for?" Kalypso retorts to Orion, "He might've. Haven't had time to look yet. Been playing Marine Chauffer lately." She tugs her pants up, then moves on to pulling her dress jacket on and starts with the buttons. Her hand stops partway through with the buttons and its on her heel that she spins to stare at Chione's retreating back. The hatch is closed before Kalypso moves again and it's with a grinding of teeth and a flash of genuine temper in her mismatched eyes. "That Bitch." It's a term of endearment. Cough. Really.

A pair of eyes watch Chione wander out. Once he thinks it's anything resembling 'safe', he chimes in, "Holy shit, Leto. They keep her in CIC? Glad I don't live there. You got some real questionable taste in friends." Oh yeah. Doesn't like her one bit. He snorts at Kalypso's question and adds quasi-sheepishly, "Cause I did the same thing and didn't datestamp it, neither. So it's gonna be a draw." He refolds his arms, "I can't believe he didn't have the guts to call his dates and tell them to meet him somewhere else. No wonder he needed help. That's just -bad-."

Chione's given the universal sign for 'sit on it and spin' by the dark-haired viper jock. He's proceeding to light his cigarette then, and take a drag of it— and that's… not good. No sooner has the smoke started to fill his lungs, than he's coughing. Maybe it just went up the wrong way? Nope, it's definitely getting worse. Cough, hack, choke, fist thumped on the table. He's doubled over in his chair pretty soon, cigarette jammed jerkily into the ashtray as his face starts rapidly turning red.

"That's the thing, Scala. You can choose your friends," she's still glaring at the hatch with an expression of doom, "You can't choose your frakking family." Maybe she shouldn't have admitted being related to Chione, but the truth has an inevitable way of coming out. She hastily finishes buttoning her buttons up, moves on to the finishing touches. "Frakking draw. Maybe we should make Cornbread make both of our frakking beds," Kalypso snorts and shoves her off duty attire into her locker. Oh. There's the memo. Crumple. Just one more thing to be pissed off about today. She looks at Micah, "You gonna make it there, St. Germaine? Sounds like you're going to cough up a lung."

"So… what. They keep her on a leash down there as their security bitch? She said tactical. Maybe that's what she meant by that." Orion rolls his eyes, "And something like that. Our own frakking fault. But he still owes me a keyboard. If you need some resolution, we'll make each -other's- damned bunks for the next week." He casts a glance to the other gold squadron pilot, just keeping an eye on him. He doesn't think much of it at first. "Been through more blood, sweat, and tears for this damned thing… thanks for unfrakking that mess with Breit, by the… hey." Orion finally 'gets it'. He stops and turns to Micah, seeming concerned. "Come out of it or we're cracking some ribs, Micah."

Yeah, no, he's definitely not just going to snap out of it. Micah's having real problems, here. There's a clatter and a thump as one hundred ninety pounds of pilot meets floor, one hand gripping a table leg as he continues.. well, choking at this point. His eyes are watering, and he's probably drooling. Lovely.

Kalypso snorts and Orion's comment does bring a hint of a smile back to her face. On a leash. Hah! The religion remark made by her cousin is most definitely under her skin in a big way. "She wouldn't know what to do with herself at a Dionystic rite," Kaly says, shutting her locker back. "Frak, sure, mutual bed-making," the woman shrugs, "Don't worry 'bout the stuff with Tempo. I like her. I sure as frak didn't do it for you." Riiiight. The thump-clatter from Micah has Kalypso wincing. "Quit frakkin' around Jailhouse," she says. The sight of him though has concern peaking through her angry attitude. Okay he doesn't look like he's joking. "Shit. Orion, call a medic!" She drops down next to Micah on the floor. "Hey, hey… breathe alright? Easy there."

<Trait Roll> Kalypso rolls First_aid and achieves a degree of Mediocre (2).

"Soon as I saw you and Breit go for a walk… well that was the moment when -I- figured it out." Orion laughs uneasily, watching Micah, "I… oh for frak's sake, Jailhouse." Orion narrows his gaze, peers around, and goes directly for the wireless, "You got him??" He lifts the receiver.

[Intercom] Medical to Ares Squadron Berthing. Medical to Ares Squadron Berthing. Fast is good.

Shockingly, it doesn't seem like any kind of fight that's broken out in the Ares berthings this morning. Leastwise, there's no blood and no suspicious instigators slinking away. Micah, however, is curled up on the floor beside an upturned chair, clinging to a table leg as he chokes pretty desperately on.. something. His face is bright red, he's probably drooling, and there's a worried looking Kalypso kneeling beside him with Orion over by the wireless receiver. There's also a recently-extinguished cigarette in an ashtray on the table.

"Yeah," Kalypso says, knealing on the ground next to Micah. She rests a hand on his back, rubbing slow circles, "Yeah, I got him…" There's another crack in her 'I'm-a-bitch!' facade, concern darkening her features. A few curious and tired faces are peering out from their curtains over what the commotion is about now. All that coughing. "Micah," first name use, formality temporarily broken, "Orion called for help. It's gonna be okay, just hang in there… tilt your head back, try to keep your airway open." She never paid quite enough attention to first aid classes, but she'll do her best to help.

The call is answered by not one medic, but three. And a stretcher, which seems to be the routine for these types of calls. There's two enlisted wheeling the stretcher in, while Craven seems to be leading, a medical bag looped over one of his shoulders. There's the briefest of looks around and when he see's Micah on the ground, he begins to make his way towards the pilot, "What happened." It's an open ended question, though he doesn't take his eyes off the pilot.

"I got no idea." Orion pushes aside anything that seems like it might get in the response team's way, including tables. Chairs are simply thrown aside, sleeping pilots be damned. Heck, he tosses things to make them slightly louder. Maybe he thinks people -should- be awake for this one. "He was smoking, he fell, turned redder than cherries in July. Ain't never done that before, near as I can tell." He's quick and to the point, not using his 'professional pilot' voice, but close. He casts Kalypso a glance, then turns to everyone assembled.

Micah would, to someone with medical training, quite clearly seem to be displaying classic symptoms of anaphylactic shock. He can't seem to get air in his lungs, though he does try to lift his head as per Kalypso's instructions. His eyelids and mouth are swelling up, and he looks like he's going to vomit on someone.

Kaly just keeps rubbing circles on Micah's back. It's chaos in Ares Berthings. Nope, doesn't look like a fight broke out, but someone is definitely in need of medical attention and that someone would be Micah. Tired, off-duty pilots are peering out of their bunks. No one is sleeping now, not with all of this fuss. "It's like… like he had some kind of allergic reaction or something," Kalypso says, a tiny break in her voice. She attempts to cover for this break in facade by steeling her features. As the medics swoop in on Micah she gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze and backs up out of their way. Orion summed up the rest for them good enough. No need to repeat it. "Frak…"

You know your day is going to improve when you're sitting about minding your own business, and you hear a call go out for medical to your own godsdamn wing's berthing. Sure, it's not Gold Squad's berthing, but odds? It's one of her frakkin' squaddies involved. Captain Addison Nikos, surliest of the Air Wing command structure, steps into the berthing. She beat medical? Nope. "Sitrep." That is not a tone that brooks beating around a bush. Her eyes scan the berthing for weapons, guilty looks, or contraband booze. What. Shh. And finally her attention lands on Micah. She doesn't get in the way of medics. She'd probably just kill Micah faster. Unintentionally. What.

And so, everyone else is ignored and Craven's immediately moving to take a kneeling spot beside Micah. There's only a cursory glance done of the man and he's apparently heard the others, for he's reaching into his medical kit to remove a small pen like device. Without waiting, he's jabbing the pen into the meaty part of the man's thigh and then turning his head just enough to look at the two medics with him, "Get him on the stretcher. We need to get him to Sickbay, ASAP."

Spend a few extra minutes in the head when you have it to yourself for once and LOOK WHAT HAPPENS! As the call for medical assistance goes out over the wireless, Jocasta Maru is suddenly making her arrival fresh from a shower and inching over toward her bunk in order to see what the commotion might be about. "What's going on?" she asks whomever might be unlucky enough to be considered 'nearby'.

Orion, who's standing around some overturned chairs (It DOES look slightly like a fight at this point!) and a table that's clearly been slid over a few feet, turns to Addie and bites his lower lip, "Ensign St. Germain was smoking when he done had a coughing fit, turned red, and dropped to the floor, sir. We called for help." Chairs overturned everywhere. What? He was making room for the paramedics!

Unfortunately, Addie's arrival is probably missed entirely by Micah. Then again, that might be fortunate. He's currently in a heap on the floor, an innocent bystander taken down on his way there, in the form of an upturned chair. Oh hi, how about that needle, then? If he could breathe, he'd probably be throwing up all over Craven. As it is, he's just purple-faced and drooling. Whatever's in the shot, seems to help his ability to drag air into his lungs at least. And Jocasta, that bitch, NOW she decides to show up.

Addison regards Orion for a moment, as if running his reply through her Steamy Bullshit-o-Meter. She nods once, then says, "I told him not to suck down those cheap smokes." She steps over to the table to pick up the cig from it, and gives it a sniff. Tobacco origin detector, go!

This begs the obvious question, which Jocasta summarily asks unabashedly bold: "What the frak was he smoking?!" Because, certainly such a reaction couldn't have been induced by the usual (and increasingly rare in their pure form) cigarettes.

The medics move to pick up Micah and load him on a stretcher, before one of them begins to afix a breathing tube to the man's nose before reaching down to activate the O2 cylinder on the stretcher. Meanwhile, Craven's turning slightly and as Addie picks up the cigarette, he's extending a hand, followed by a snap of his fingers, "I need that. Now."

Kalypso moves over to the ECO, trying to mask some of the worry that's pretty plain on her features. She's got her lower lip caught between her teeth, eyes on Craven as he attends to Micah. Kalypso points to the cigarette Addie now holds. "Just that. Just a frakkin' cheap ass cig," the rookie pilot says.

Orion doesn't say anything at all. He's actually pretty sullen and quiet, though he's watching Micah and the medical people bunch. He's also apparently deciding to follow them unless/until someone tells him not to. At least, that's what his legs are saying.

Micah isn't really in a position to argue. Though he'll probably be kicking himself later, when he realizes Fender got dragged into this. For now, he's trying to breathe so he doesn't suffocate to death, thanks.

Addie doesn't hand the cigarette right off. She sniffs it again, and says, "Lieutenant." You might almost think she isn't amused by his demand. "Take care of my pilot." She reaches over to drop the cig in the bag. An or else is implied. "Make sure he doesn't take any permanent damage." Now shoo, medical types. Make with the fixing!

Kalypso falls silent, wrapping her arms around herself and chews on her lip. Chaulk another one up for reality setting in for the rookie. She doesn't move to follow the stretcher. What's she going to do other than be in the way?

Craven clearly isn't worried about pissing people off. He's here to deal with a patient and that takes priority to being nice. When the cigarette is deposited into the bag, the little baggie is slipped into his satchel, "He'll be fit to fly again soon enough, Captain." Turning away from Addie, there's only the slightest nod of his head to the medics, "Lets go." And with that, they're off to sickbay.

For as much hostility there is to be had between Micah and his jilted Jocasta, she doesn't appear to be taking an exceptional amount of pleasure in watching him wheeze and be wheeled away. No. This is no good. Hurting Micah is meant to be done with a tactile touch, not by spiking his smokes. She frets her brow a bit and then looks over to Addie in the hopes of possibly being bludgeoned with some wisdom. Well? What the frak?

That's done, appearance made. Addison says, "I'll be up to irritate your staff with questions in a few hours." She follows the stretcher and medics out, apparently with somewhere to be.

There's a quiet buzz that's just background noise now as the Ares members who were trying to sleep before are unlikely to get back to it. Kalypso sort of stands near the overturned chairs and shoved-aside table, staring in shock at the hatch. That… that just really happened. She went from being royally pissed at her cousin to being worried about Micah and now a little shock settles in. "Frak," comes the mutter under her breath again. The blonde turns to look at Jocasta and moistens her lips. "He's… he's gonna be okay. Medical got here quick." Who's she trying to convince? Jocasta or herself? Reguardless of who she’s trying to convince, Kalypso gives a sharp, angry kick to the bunk and then stomps out of the berthings. It's safer to go back to being mad.

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