You're the Boss
You're the Boss (Warning: RACY)
Summary: After the pickup Pyramid game, Jocasta, Micah and Nigel head for the head to shower. A flippant invitation turns into some good ol' fashioned fraternization between an officer and an enlisted.
Date: 49 ACH
Related Logs: None

So… a Viper pilot, an ECO, and an engineer walk into the head — it's the set up for what is likely to be either the best or the worst joke ever. It can't be helped that Micah and Jocasta just so happened to have been on opposing sides of a hot and heavy Pyramid match and are now sporting more than their fair share of sweat… though, the latter's insistence on Nigel tagging along sheerly for the sake of lascivious amusement might sort out to be a poor judgment call in the end. We'll see. As it is, the three of them arrive at the head practically as a matched threesome. Let the shenanigans begin.

Nigel is the odd one out, being fairly fresh looking as he is. He's pretty silent along the way, his expression one of arch-browed bemusement as he walks. Once inside, he leans up against a sink and nonchalantly looks into a mirror, scratching at some reddish stubble. He catches Jocasta's reflection and gives her a vaguely questioning look with a jerk of his head in Micah's direction.

They're probably not alone, either, which could make things potentially more or less interesting. Having had a headstart on the other two, Micah ditches his bag atop a bench in the changing area and begins, well, stripping. He's certainly not shy about it. He couldn't be, after a few years in the military. Sweaty t-shirt first, then boots unzipped one at a time, with the heel propped up while he works. For those paying marginal attention, or with prior.. intimate knowledge, he's sporting a few different tattoos: letters inscribed along the back of his neck, more over his left shoulder, and an intricate tree following the line of his spine, tuned into leaves at his shoulderblades.

Jocasta jokingly mimics Nigel's gesture, likewise indicating Micah with a subdued smirk while still lingering at the sink next to the ginger-haired tinkerer. "Ex-boyfriend," she explains in an intimate but unlamenting tone. She then pipes up unabashedly, raising her voice in a room that already echoes enough as it is to ask, "When's the wedding?"

"Yeah," Nigel replies, in an 'I coulda told you that' sort of fashion. Pushing off the leaning post that is the sink at Jocasta's louder words, he heads over to the changing area and sets down his own duffel, which presumably he grabbed in berthings on the way here. He too possesses no qualms about disrobing in front of others; whether it's because of his military service or just simple shamelessness is anyone's guess. Tugging off his tank and undershirt, only one piece of body art comes into view upon his pale upper half: a lilypad, etched into his left shoulderblade. He sits down to deal with his own boots.

Micah keeps his eyes down, and firmly on the task at hand. Which, at the moment, is the removal of sweaty clothing. One boot is kicked off and then the other, belt unfastened with quiet efficiency. "Who says we're gettin' married?" he mutters finally, dogtags jingling as he tugs off the jeans. "Nice henchman," is added after he's peeled out of underthings and snatched up a towel. Nigel's given a brief, assessing look. "Does he fetch you coffee and roll over, too?"

Before she's even made it 'round the bend of the partition that separates the sinks from the showers, Jocasta joins the boys in disrobing, peeling out of her sweaty shirts with no small amount of relief. That just leaves her in the standard issue black sports brassiere as accompanied by fatigues and boots and, no doubt, some seriously sweaty socks. However, as she crosses in back of Micah to sit down somewhere between him and Nigel, she introduces the palm of her hand to the back of his head. Lightly, lightly. It's a love tap, sure. "Apparently, not as quickly as you do…" Roll over, that is. She then slides a sidelong look to Nigel, considering. Studying, maybe.

Nigel is hunched over, in the process of unlacing his hastily tied, already quite loose boots. "All right, so which is it?" he asks, straightening up after tugging off the footwear. He regards Micah with his lips tucked into one another and his cheeks puffed out slightly. "Henchman, or dog? Your metaphors are conflicting, and until it's straightened out I'm afraid I can't continue along this path." He stands and unhooks his belt, then makes quick work of his fly, dropping his fatiques pants and boxers in one quick motion. Kicking them so they land messily on the top of his duffel with his boots, he scratches at his right hip and finally regards Jocasta in all her half naked glory. "If it's dog, though, I can come up with an array of euphamisms involving different instances of the word 'bone.'" He grins at her in his mostly harmless manner.

Yep, it's a whole lotta sweaty navy in here right now. Micah's gritting his teeth a little when swatted, and attempting to tangle his fingers in Jocasta's hair. "Touch me again," he mutters, leaning in close enough that the ECO could probably strangle him with his own dogtags. Not that she would. Right? "..and ah'll put you down, let your little henchman see what's left when you lose all that frakking hot air." Nigel is, it seems, utterly ignored for the time being. And assuming Jocasta hasn't handed him his ass by then, he releases her and pulls to his feet, prowling away for the showers.

Nigel's eyes narrow at the interaction of Micah's hand and Jocasta's hair - but the only verbal reaction he offers is a mumbled, "Damn. Henchman. I need new euphamisms."

While Micah makes with the momentary manhandling, Jocasta endures the abuse with an expression that suggests she's far more irritated than injured. Of course, had he held on for just a few more seconds, she would have been forced to introduce the man's face to the floor in front of all these nice people… and Nigel. However, he withdraws and retreats and Jocasta is left to sit and sulk silently for a second, hand held to her head, until she has the good sense to realize that her ginger-haired henchman is standing their in all of his gods-given bare glory. "Makes you wonder why we broke up, huh?" Ha. Ha. Skip it. There's a view to be appreciated here and, yeah, she's appreciating it pretty openly while simultaneously doing her best to level the proverbial playing field and hustle out of her clothes, skivvies and all.

Can we say, power struggle? Micah's not sticking around to debate it, though. He dodges a group of ball players on their way out of the showers, and ducks into one of the unoccupied stalls. There's a hiss as the faucet's twisted on full blast — maybe so he doesn't have to hear them making out on the bench — and the viper jock gets busy with soap.

For all his apparent lechery, Nigel doesn't seem to be the type to ogle. Sure, as Jocasta bares herself to the world - or at least the head - his eyes do an appreciative once-over, but when they stop to linger, it's on her face. "Not really. In fact, I've forgotten what we were talking about," he answers a little belatedly, summoning an obviously theatrical, dopily smitten look to his face. It fades suddenly as his eyebrows prick. "Oh wait - henchman euphamism incoming, but it's kind of lame. Prepare yourself." He holds up his hands, palm facing Jocasta, then steps back to announce, "I'd totally whack you for free." His teeth flash in a broad grin.

With a bobbing nod of her head, Jocasta generously concedes, "Not bad. Not bad." That's a pretty good summation of her all-around opinion in regards to both poor man's poetry and poet. She gives a look around the changing area and then her gaze drops not-so-surreptitiously to Micah's discarded pile of clothes, perhaps considering something unsavory. The moment comes and goes without action, however, and instead the Raptor co-pilot grabs a towel from the piles provided and then playfully flicks it at the engineer with a chin gesture to the showers. "Come on. I'll wash your back if you wash mine…"

Micah isn't long in the shower, though it's probably more for the sake of self-preservation than anything. He did leave his clothing out there, after all, and it'd undoubtedly amuse the star screamers to no end, to hear of him hightailing it back to the Genesis buck naked. Soaped up and rinsed off, his hair receives a quick lathering and dousing as well, before he shuts off the faucet and begins toweling himself down. And, yes, there's a quick over-the-shoulder glance given the bench where he left his stuff. Jocasta and Nigel are studiously avoided.

"Oh, shit," Nigel states, looking put out. "You're one of those girls that expects, like, reciprocation?" Of course, he's already headed in the direction of the showers, and his grin is, as always, all in fun. He's a fun guy, this one! But hopefully he doesn't have fungi. (He doesn't). Micah is treated to a view of Nigel's retreating ass as he steps into a stall, bare feet slapping loudly on the tiles before they come to a halt and he leans up against the railing.

Once she's presented with a showerhead, Jocasta makes no bones about doing what she came here for — which is to say, take a shower. No, seriously. Sure, there might be a little bit of ulterior ogling going on but that's to be expected. A dollop of shampoo is summarily smooshed between her palms and then scrubbed into her scalp and while she might be turned to the side in order to carry on a conversation with the comparatively pale man standing next to her, she's not putting on a show for him or anyone else. "So, what's your story, then?" she asks, seemingly non-sequitur to any prior conversation.

Micah filters back into the change area, and finishes scrubbing his towel through damp hair as he moves. Clean clothing's tugged on, and a shirt drawn out of an unwrapped package; it's handled almost gingerly, like he's afraid of tearing it. Once boots are zippered and belt buckle buckled, he shrugs into his jacket and turns to swoop out. Maybe there's a parting glance for Jocasta, and maybe there isn't. She's not looking, so she'll never know!

Micah has left.

Nigel doesn't show any outward signs of disappointment when Jocasta doesn't just push him up against the stall wall and have her way with him, but it's not like he looks relieved or anything. He just stands in the shower, and once she's got herself damp enough for the moment, he reaches up to angle the showerhead towards himself, getting his preliminary drenching. Then he shoves it back towards the middle and steps to the side and proceeds in sudsing. "My story, huh? You looking for an overview, or something specific?" Dragging the bar of soap down each arm and under, he scrubs himself quickly.

Somehow, Jocasta manages to look surprised when she opens her eyes after rinsing shampoo from her head and, sure enough, Nigel's still standing right there. Oh hi. It's hard to tell whether she looks pleased or perturbed, as she's doing an awful lot of brow-wrinkling but, that pretty much comes with the territory when you're standing in a shower. There's lots of water and soap about to fly up and invade wide-open eyes. "Humor me," she says, one tattooed arm still occupied in combing what might account for conditioner through her dark hair. There's some serious invasion of personal space going on here but nothing that might qualify as inappropriate for public consumption. Yet.

Hey, an invitation's an invitation, as far as Nigel's concerned. And, for his part, he's being a right gentleman about everything - beyond the whole standing in a shower stall with a naked woman thing. He continues to scrub soap over his body, rattling out a list of information easily. "Tauron, born and raised. Twin sister named Lily. Flunked out of college. Joined the Navy when my sister did. Got transferred from the Pacifica right before the attacks. May or may not have gotten a demotion from Specialist right before transfer." He steps into the water again and rinses off his soapy torso.

Most of the information that Nigel chooses to disclose is assimilated silently. That last bit, however, is the bait that hooks her lip and Jocasta wonders aloud, "What for?" before snatching the soap from the engineer's grasp and then proceeding to lather up parts of his body that he may well have already seen to. They're conveniently out of the shot, though, she it's hard to tell exactly what she's doing down there…

"I'm self-destructive," Nigel states honestly as she asks the question, jumping slightly as someone beyond himself begins lathering a certain area. He plays it cool, one arm raking through his wet hair while the other settles lengthwise against the railing. "I'm supposed to stay sober, but this guy had some of that incredible Caprican whiskey, yeah?" He all but shudders at the memory of that smooth amber liquid. "It got out of control, I broke a guy's jaw. Next thing you know, my pins are depleted and I'm packed up on a ship bound for the Genesis to be Major Zimmermann's problem." One shoulder shrugs loosely.

"There's just something about damaged goods," Jocasta murmurs in a voice that might otherwise be too low to appreciate intelligibly if it weren't for the fact that they're currently sharing a piece of acoustics in the same shower stall. "I like you already." You know, just in case he couldn't tell. However, she chooses to punctuate this statement not with a closing of the few inches left between them but rather with a withdrawal as she still has a whole body of her own to wash and she's terribly interested in getting that done all of a sudden.

Nigel's head rolls back to thud loudly upon the wall against which he stands as Jocasta separates herself from him, eyes closed against errant shower spray. There's something about his expression that gives the sense of a man wrangling with his willpower. He remains like this for a good long while, giving Jocasta time to soap herself up, and then he dares to open his eyes. Bad move. He pushes off the wall and steps closer to her, invading her space to a more specific degree.

Alright. As hot to trot as Jo may be, both by reputation and the literally-speaking, she gives Nigel once last chance to save himself from the throes of semi-public 'fraternization' with the slightly innuendo-strewn phrase: "You sure you know what you're getting yourself into?"

"No," Nigel answers directly, doing his damndest to pin Jocasta up against the opposite wall. "But that's the fun of being self-destructive, isn't it?" His grin is no longer goofy, no longer self-deprecating, but the grin of a man who knows exactly what he wants, and is confident in his success.

Jocasta couldn't agree more enthusiastically. She reaches up with both hands and pulls her henchman in for a nefarious kiss. So much for the Pyramid game assuaging her libidinous tendencies, eh? There's only one direction things are headed — down, down, down. Watch and learn as Jocasta demonstrates by disappearing out of frame.

Cue to fade to suede.

As things cool off, Nigel slips back into that goofy facade we all know and love. Or like. Or, you know, want to punch in the face, whichever suits a person's particular need. "You know, if someone catches wind of this and I get bumped back down to recruit for fraternization charges, I'm going to tell them it was worth every dirty little second." He steps back from her and out of the line of the shower's spray, pawing around for his towel.

Well, that was… really something; so low-down and dirty — in the best way possible — that Jocasta nearly feels compelled to take a second shower. (Or would that be a third?) Once she's capable of removing her shoulders from the slick shower stall wall, she switches off the knob and lets someone else have the hot water for a while. "I'm already as low and I can go," she says with no shortage of a smile. A studious look momentarily sweeps over her, though, as she considers, "…sure, they might ground me and put me down on the deck for a while but, hey." Worth it. Snatching up the towel she'd claimed, Jocasta begins to make with the completely and totally casual task of drying off and redressing as if she hadn't just spent about an hour in the shower with someone else. "You mind if next time we go about that on dry land?" she asks, squinting while she tries to evacuate the water from her ears. Is there going to be a 'next time'?

Nigel is equally casual as he exits the stall and moves back to the bench he vacated earlier. Towel wrapped around his lower half en route, he seems content to let his torso drip, and the only drying his hair receives is a rapid series of shakes that send water droplets flinging about wildly. "I'm at your beck and call, boss," the redhead informs her, milking the 'henchman' label for all its worth. Flip though his answer may be, his grin morphs briefly into a smile that betrays an earnest hope.

For a little while, at least for as long as it takes the both of them to get dressed, Jocasta falls into a slightly uncharacteristic quiet. She hasn't begun to regret their aromatically recent tryst already, has she? Clearly, there are some heavy topics for contemplation crowding in around her brows, which she frets every so often while trying to tread her own slightly overwhelming thoughts. But, then, she slides on a sly smile and eyes the engineer from the side. That's probably a good sign. "See you back on the Genny, then?" Does that mean she's leaving?

"See you on your back in the Genny." The words are swift as they issue from Nigel's mouth - they could have just run together like that with no ulterior motive on his part. Maybe it's a trick of the echoing accoustics altogether. Or maybe, just maybe, the engineer is being fresh. Standing, he offers no assistance in deciphering - he's just a lanky redhead reaching for his clothes piled on the duffel next to the bench.

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