New Mexico / June, 1958 / 02:24

[bingobangobongo]

Nighttime.

The desert cooled greatly at night, especially nights as clear as this one. Lieutenant (J.G.) Al "Bingo" Calavicci wouldn't know the difference. Half the bottles lay strewn in the dirt while the other half were placed precisely, a practical lineup on the white edge line of the road. Off the road, in the dirt, Al's candy apple red Corvette sat at the end of an abrupt stop scarring the road.

Nicely buzzed, Bingo smoked at his cigarette and paced back and forth in front of rowed glass bottles. "You've got a lotta nerve comin' here like this. And you bring your friends with you?" He waved his hand in the direction of the standing bottles he wasn't presently addressing. "What was I supposed to do, huh? You forced my hand," he accused, head swimming delightfully.

"Heh--hehe." Al was having a tough time keeping his straight face. Wildly turning on his heel, the man kicked one of the empties and pretended to watch if sail off into the distance. He hadn't seen where it had gone -- it was far too dark, even with the desert starlight. "See what you made me do, Vinny?!" Al's voice, gravel and honey, sweet and rough, carried off into the distance and didn't come back. He leaned down to stare accusingly at the bottle on the white line, one eye half-closed in mock posturing. At his fingertips, his Lucky was burning him, but he wasn't finished. Not yet.

Bingo snorted. "Yer done for," he growled out. He reached his hand to grasp Vinny's neck, but the cigarette bit at him and he yelped, dropping the Lucky Strike, the bottle of beer, and his sunglasses all in one motion. It was just enough that he missed the fact that the roaring sound he was suddenly hearing was, in fact, outside of his head. Feeling strangely prickly and disoriented, the Lieutenant sucked at his burnt finger and turned just in time to see the fireball descending down over his prized car.

Did he duck? Did he jump for cover? "No, no, NO!" No, Bingo doth protest fiercely into the night.

He didn't get to see what happened. The force of such a nearby impact coupled with his already unbalanced step knocked him to the ground where he remained, head covered in anticipation of more wreckage.

Comments

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

The man had a point about cleaning up, but he still seemed to be a bit on the dodgy side. She had to wonder if he'd really been on leave. After all, what sort of LT wears his uniform on the way back to work? Of course, it was possible she was misreading the entire situation - she was pretty sleepy after all.

Nodding toward the trunk, she said, "I really don't want to tempt fate any further, I guess." She stripped out of the top of her flight suit in a perfunctory way. There was a three inch gash on her left bicep that stung when she pulled the fabric away as well as an unpleasant twinge in her left knee where she'd aggravated that old injury - and that wasn't even mentioning her hands. She'd burned them on the scalded skin of the bird, and while there were no blisters, if she planned on swiping some diamonds later, she'd sure as hell leave no prints.

Taking a final drag on the cigarette, she ground it beneath her heel and accepted the towel, attempting to dab at the most obvious wounds first. A lot of the blood, she found, was coming from the wound on her arm, and that cheered her somewhat - at the very least, her injuries could have been far worse than they were.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

Al watched through the cast light from inside the trunk. "Went down once," he revealed, returning the flashlight to its designated spot. "Couldn't do anything, and I thought I was dead for sure, but-- well, here I am. Kinda like you." The young pilot shrugged and tossed the cigarette at his feet, toeing it into the gravel. The desert was too tinder-ready and Bingo wasn't keen on taking too many risks with the environment. In fact, the more time he spent thinking and talking about what happened, the more he wanted to check out what was left. Or, at least wait until morning to see what he could see.

Admittedly, he was a bit worried about the blood, but the Captain seemed like she wasn't too broken up about the whole ordeal. Then again, the effects of such an experience might not present themselves for days. He wondered if he should even be asking questions, but it all seemed a little too odd for his taste. "What was you heading? Somewhere remote?" He was trying to keep his tone casual, but he know she'd probably see right through it.

[OOC: I did this post from ny phone. It probably seemed longer than it is. Also, ILU!]

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Kara wrung out the damp towel and for lack of anywhere else to put it, draped it over the jug of water on the ground. Her knee was already screaming for attention, but there wasn't much she could do for it in the moment. She didn't know if she'd be able to do anything period without medical attention.

She brushed off the attention with practiced military authority. "Top secret." She gestured vaguely behind her toward the Viper. "My bird was an experiment for high-altitude flight. Obviously, it failed." She shrugged, hoping her generic explanation would work, especially considering she could only guess what the skin of the plane looked like from re-entry into atmosphere.

Either way, there wasn't much she could do for it, so she lifted her half-gone bottle of beer to her lips and took another taste. It was different from anything she'd ever tasted, but very familiar. Different ingredients to meet the same end, she assumed, and in any case, it tasted gorgeous. Without fresh crops of wheat and rye, real beer had disappeared from the Fleet entirely, and the synthetic crap was disgusting. If nothing else, she was glad this place had some perks.

Nodding toward him, she asked, "Where are you heading tonight?" It wasn't like she'd be able to identify the place name, but she hoped she could fake it enough to get a ride out of the cold, empty desert.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

"Oh, ah, I was just heading down to the Cape. Taking my time, got a couple days," he said idly, he expression unchanging. He had a bit of deja vu, but his attention didn't wane from her for long.

He was thinking about her comments. An experimental plane wasn't uncommon or unheard of, but a top secret experimental plane wasn't the type of thing that a person revealed quite so easily, despite Calavicci's previous confession about his security status. More than a few things weren't adding up, and he wasn't about to keep pretending. As he reached for a beer of his own, he said, "Captain, I'm not entirely certain where you've come from, but it's pretty obvious to me that you're not from around here. Let's cut to the chase, why don't we? And you can just tell me whether or not it's worth me taking you somewhere more official, or if I'm just better off dropping you at the nearest hospital and forgetting any of this ever happened." He was a reasonable man, so he gave her the option. If it weren't for her blonde hair, he probably wouldn't have been quite so generous.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Kara rolled her eyes. "Of course I'm not from around here." She folded her arms and gave him a pointed look. "Are you from around here?"

Where she'd been trying to look vaguely friendly and even somewhat flirtatious, she now allowed her expression to close off entirely. With a disparaging glare, Kara added, "And if I were you, I wouldn't be so eager to show up anywhere 'official' with a wounded officer in your condition." And maybe that was something of a threat - one she really could not follow through on - but Calavicci had forced her hand.

She turned and gestured to her plane. "And if you don't believe me, go have a look. You'll find she's not exactly standard-issue." At least, she was banking on her Viper looking strange enough compared to whatever the man flew to be believable.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

So she would play ball. Al smirked and crossed his arms, lifting his chin in her direction. "Changes are, if you really are telling the truth -- and I don't believe you are, not yet -- then all I need to do is wait here with you and someone's gonna be along." He offered his thought with a trace of cockiness as he crossed his arms in front of him. "Because, ma'am, the United States government is not the type of organization to allow one of their experimental airplanes or the pilot in the hotseat to go unchecked." As if to illustrate his point, Bingo turned and looked for signs of life other than theirs in the vast quiet of the desert.

When he turned back to her, he was already in search of another cigarette. His hands betrayed a little more than he'd have liked, the tell-tale nervous shake coming through more clearly with the lighter and flame. What if this really were a rather serious situation involving an enemy spy plane? Should that be the case, then Calavicci was in for a battery of questioning, and while this woman seemed like a pistol, he wasn't sure she was worth the questioning and paperwork he'd have to fill out.

Al took a long drag and then groaned at himself for giving in. "Look, Captain, if the roles were reversed here, what would you expect? I'm not lookin' to ruin anyone's life, but there are strange things, and stranger things, and this is even worse than that." Why yes, he was known for ranting and raving, especially with the aid of his hands.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

So now he was trying to call her out? After the night she'd had, she really didn't need to go round and round with some idiot in the godsdamned desert. She waved him off flippantly, placing her empty bottle with its tumbled brethren.

"Right, well, can't take that chance, can you?" She nodded toward his car. "Why don't you scamper off toward wherever it is you're really going. I'll wait here for my ride on my own." She folded her arms against the chill and the pain in her arm and turned away from him and back into the dessert. Kara figured she'd make a show of investigating the wreckage before returning to road, because apparently, she had a long walk ahead of her.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

If there was one thing in the whole of the world that could drive Al absolutely bonkers, it was a moody woman. Unfortunately, they were also one of his biggest weaknesses. Feeling a complete and utter jerk, the young pilot pressed his palm to his forehead, the glowing ember of the cigarette dangerously close to his semi-unruly mop. "Ah, I'm sorry," he informed Thrace, and it was certainly genuine enough. "Look, I'll, uh... I'll take you wherever you need to go, all right?" Bingo's hand dropped and he gestured around them as if she might choose their direction right then and there. "Or-- or I'll send someone back to get you. Whatever you need," he offered. In retrospect, it hadn't been very human of him to question and accuse her when she'd obviously just been through quite an ordeal.

As if it excused his behavior (it didn't,) or was the truth (it wasn't,) Al finished, "It's the beer." He poured out the bottle he'd just recently opened.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Oh, great, he was following her - she'd never had walking away work for her before, and it was just her luck it'd be a success the first time when she didn't want it to.

She waved him off, barely affording him a glance over her shoulder. "I'll be fine. You might want to make yourself scarce, huh?" She doubted it'd do her any good, though, and at any rate, she really didn't want to be left alone in the desert.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

"Nah, c'mon," he urged her. Bingo snuffed out his cigarette and the desert seemed all the darker for it. Overhead, wisps of clouds remained as a trace, telling of the moodiness of New Mexico during even the warmer months. "We don't even hafta go anywhere. Just come and sit down. You've probably gotten pretty tossed around on your way down and now you're trekking through the scrub brush and dust because I couldn't keep my mug shut." Geez, just beg her to come around, why don't you, Bingo? he mentally chided.

What was it he wanted from her? Company? Al often didn't think company was worth so much trouble, but times had gotten tougher since he'd been reassigned. He was the same cocky Bingo, but he shared space with a whole mess of people just as cocky as he was. Oh, Al, if only your troubles were novel.

He stopped, not willing to go too far from the Corvette without knowing exactly where the outcome of his reasoning would lead them.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Kara felt rather than heard him stop behind her, and she mostly wanted to keep going. She figured she could track a bit further on down the road through the 'scrub brush and dust' and be all the better for it. Still, there was part of her that was loathe to be all on her own.

The fact was, she had been pretty shaken up - even before her unceremonious landing on some place she'd never heard of, she'd had something of a shock. In fact, she wasn't even sure if she was really even alive or not - for all she knew, this was some version of Hell, and Calavicci another menacing avatar trying to manipulate her (though he was neither very menacing nor manipulative).

Either way, at least he was there and she wasn't wandering through the desert by herself. She was exhausted, and though she'd never want to admit it, she was afraid of passing out and falling prey to whatever denizens of the New Mexico night that might fall upon her.

So she turned back to Calavicci, and even in her pique, she still had to resist the urge to grin - the man looked nearly supplicant. So maybe he wasn't exactly Pyriphlegethon's ferryman after all - could be he really was just a hapless military man beset upon by Kara and her troubles. In light of those problems, she couldn't afford him much sympathy, but at least she started walking back toward him.

Keeping her gaze deliberately dark and her stance entirely closed-off, she said, "Fine. Will you quit with the questions?" She might have sounded hostile, but she was asking in earnest - there were honestly things she just couldn't bring herself to discuss, and inventing cover was becoming a huge strain on her already tired mind.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

"No questions," he agreed, nodding his head distractedly. Oh, Bingo, what are you getting yourself into? The young man let out a quiet sigh of relief, hoping it would help to even out his nerves over the duration of their company. He didn't want to even think about how he might have felt if he'd really left her out there alone -- it likely would have haunted him back to find her before he could get out of the state.

Feeling safer the nearer they were to the car, Calavicci pushed through the dark toward his beloved car, intent on the thought that it provided a buffer between him and his new companion. Something of a breathing, burning memorial, the bright cherry speedster provided a kind of sick company (and the alcohol another.) Al didn't care. He needed her, that car.

Set adrift in his thoughts not for the first time of the evening, Bingo commiserated with himself. Pity was new, self-pity even newer. It felt wretched, and he'd drown it well enough in the beer and liquor before she'd shown up. Thankfully, she seemed a worthwhile distraction from all of his self-induced misery leaving Al to feel a bit lighter and more like himself.

He was just to the road again when he turned back to look at her. "Since I can't ask questions, hopefully statements will do. If I can help, you'll tell me. I can help if you need it." And he was certainly one for keeping his word.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

A large portion of Kara's life had been devoted to just the opposite of what Calavicci was offering - she hated asking for help. Sometimes, though, life was about overcoming what scared you - but just as often, it was about stubbornly ignoring those fears. Kara hadn't quite decided which side of that fine line she wanted to walk, so she just turned and took a step back toward the road.

"I think I need to sit," she said at last, forcing a bit of steel into her shaky voice. Her knee was throbbing after her little stroll back - further evidence she'd do better not to keep getting on the man's bad side. She needed help right now.

Hobbling (and hating herself for it), she made for the car, biting back a groan of agony. "Bring me another bottle," she gritted out - it might be worse for her in the long-run to get hammered, she figured she'd earned it.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

Al opened the passenger door for Kara and then went around the the trunk to gather up some supplies. He had a spare sweater which would serve a dual purpose, both as a transport for the remaining beer, but also as a way for Thrace to chase away the inevitable and lasting chill of the New Mexican desert.

"You want this?" He asked as he dumped the bottles in on the driver's seat. Realizing his mistake, he corrected, "You want this." Hey, she never said he wasn't allowed to be a bit of a smartass. The Captain acted like the type to take it and not be too offended, anyway. "And this," he finished, offering a beer with one hand and the sweater with the other.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Kara rolled her eyes though she was glad he was playing along. She was even happier to have a seat, and she eased herself into the passenger-side, careful of her knee. Accepting both the beer and the sweater, she arranged herself until she was warmer and taking a satisfying pull from the longneck. Kara'd have liked another smoke, but she knew she could wait - after all, she'd gone without for a long time as it was.

Surveying the unfamiliar stars through the windscreen leant her some perspective - she was really, really lost. She had no idea if there was even a morning forthcoming; for all she knew, it'd be nighttime in the desert for another six hours or another six months.

Heaving a sigh, she took another drink before going to work on her knee. She could feel that it was tender, but it was't swollen - a good sign that it at least wasn't torn. Still it ached and probing it with her fingers revealed more and more pain. She'd need another dozen bottles just to dull it, she thought (though Kara was known for her ability to overestimate, especially when it came to liquor).

Leaning up, she sought to distract herself from the pain. She studied the steering column, the familiat gear shift, the dangling key ring. Compulsion made her reach for it as she might a familiar's dogtags; soldiers were often known for wearing the tags bearing names of friends and lovers in the service. She guessed it meant nothing it at all the man only had a pair of bottle openers depending from a handfull of keys, but it somehow made her feel a little sorry for him.

She glanced up and caught his eye. "Where's home?" she asked, hoping to do a bit more information-gathering disguised as friendly interest.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

"I'm... in between places," he replied readily, though he obviously wasn't certain. Al moved the bottles to make room for himself and then sat in the driver's seat, half in and half out. With his leg on the pavement, Bingo relaxed back in the bucket seat and settled for who knew how long. If he told her the truth, he probably would have said he didn't have a home, but since she was expecting answers, he filled them in. "Suppose the nearest I've got is 'Earth,' and that might not be for much longer," he joked, dry and lacking true mirth.

"Anyway, if I were the type to choose a place -- and trust me, ma'am, I am not -- I would get myself a little plot of land around here. Somewhere quiet but not too far from the casinos." The young pilot shook his head and fiddled at his keys as they hung from the ignition.

He was curious. Bingo wanted to ask back, but their arrangement didn't much allow for that. Besides, he thought it was at least a little sportsman like to give it a try. Learning without questioning took more than a little thought and concentration. Instead of asking, he guessed, "If I had to guess, I'd say you were from the West Coast." She looked a bit like the blondes he'd seen on the boardwalk in Santa Barbara.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Earth? This couldn't have gone better if she'd actually just begun to interrogate him. Part of her was afraid to believe it could be true, and the rest was beginning to think she was just hallucinating. Either way, the combination of 'Earth,' 'casino,' and 'coast' was building quite a paradise in her mind, so she was happy to stay awhile.

Unsure of how to negotiate Calavicci's 'guess,' she simply nodded. "Yes - the west coast." She was frakked if he wanted any more details, so she hoped he could just keep agreeing with him. At least that denoted some sort of body of water - Kara liked the water well enough, so she supposed that was fine.

She leaned back into the seat and slumped against the door, studying him in profile. Kara knew squirelly when she saw it. He was almost as evasive as she was, and that was fine by her - the more he didn't want to give up about himself, the less he'd wonder about her.

Still, the silent desert night was oppressive and the need to know more about the place, be it fantasy or not, was overwhelming. "You'd live here, though? Other than a casino, what else is there?"

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

Al's face lit as she confirmed his suspicions about her origin. He tried his hardest not to immediately imagine her in a bikini, skating away with his attention along the boardwalk of his mind. Feeling the (ever present) need for a cigarette, the man leaned toward the road so he could fish the half-empty soft pack from his side pocket. "A whole lotta nothin'," which was probably why it appealed to him so strongly. That's very emo of you, Al.

He didn't bother asking, just handed her a cigarette and his lighter coupled in one hand. "Oh, well, I suppose I should mention there are probably some cowboys and Indians. And some rattlesnakes. But, other than that, not much else." Suited him just fine. Retrieving a pack of matched from the console, Calavicci lit his cigarette and gestures with it, waving his smoke at the windscreen. "But not everywhere in New Mexico is like this."

And here he was, jawing away like they'd known each other for ages. "Though, if you're looking for more than just casinos, Vegas is the place to be." He whistled, apparently agreeing with himself. "Reno's not bad either, but you can't beat a handful of singles in a place like Vegas." Pardon him, he's thinking back to the last time he'd gone about shoving money at scantily clad women. Maybe he had time for a detour...

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Kara took the cigarette, trying not to look disappointed in the news that there wasn't a vibrant, bustling city just over the next (nonexistent) rise. She supposed she could use that in her favor, though - at least with Calavicci's unwitting help, perhaps she could build a passable cover on the way to... wherever. So far, 'missing pilot on a top-secret flight' wasn't so solid. She could be Kara Thrace of 'the West Coast' - whatever that was.

"You like to gamble?" she asked, willfully ignorant of the bent of his thoughts. She lit the cigarette and looked at him with the benefit of the light with genuine interest. So long as she could figure out the rules to some basic card game, perhaps she could also win a little scratch; cash would be a necessity soon enough as it was.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

"Like to win," he replied, only just popping back out the other side of his reply of some lustful night. "Like to waste my money 'cause I sure as hell ain't spending it on anything else. She's paid off, I haven't kept a place of my own in years." It was a decent use of cold, hard cash, wasn't it? No? No, probably not. Calavicci smirked and tilted his head to look at her. "Can always make more."

This was where he decided he could finally relax a little. Taking up his keys and a bottle of beer, the pilot was forced to work the top off without burning himself or the car with the lit cigarette. Top popped, he took two quick sips of beer and then placed the bottle down on the pavement next to the car. "You play." It was hard to keep his statement from sounding like a question.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Kara leaned back, enjoying the open-air and the view. She felt a little more at ease instantly, and she couldn't help a small, weary smile as she watched smoke curl up into the night sky. "Yes, I play," she responded to his non-question. There were plenty of peculiar things about her day thus-far, but the easiest one to field was not being known by reputation from the first moment.

She took a pull from her bottle and settled it against her sore knee. Kara was without a plan as to how she was going to take care of herself here, and she doubted hustling triad would get her very far, and she could hardly just wander onto an air force base and pretend she belonged there.

She turned and looked at him once more. "The next town - is there somewhere I can make a call? I'll need to make a report as to my whereabouts." That sounded plausible enough, and though any air force worth a damn would be able to track a major investment like a secret plane, Kara knew all about blinking off radar. She was pretty much GalacticaGalactica.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

It was interesting to have someone in the passenger's seat again. Even without the Corvette ripping across the desert, the car felt more balanced with a second person there. And as he sat and smoked and listened, Al found himself wanting to ask more and more questions. However, she effectively stemmed the questions with some brilliant moves around the beginning of this whole ordeal.

"Yeah, oh yeah." Calavicci nodded. "There's a place about twenty, twenty-five miles back. That's where I got the beer," he revealed, his voice full of some strange brand of mystery. "Probably a place you can go for the night-- day-- ni--whatever." Semantics. "If you just give me an hour or two, I can sober up a bit and drive you in." Or, they could drink what was left, sleep like fool until afternoon, and stumble into whatever looks the friendliest from the other side of the shades. But, really, he thought she could do with a doctor and didn't think it would take much convincing on her part, especially the way she was nursing that knee.

[OOC:ILU! And by the time you read this, there'll be ONE DAY LEFT!]

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

She didn't really want him backtracking to a town he'd already blown through, this time with some injured woman in tow. The situation would raise a few too many questions for her sake, and Kara thoroughly doubted Calavicci wanted to answer any either.

Giving voice to such concerns would start another conversation she didn't want to have, so she just took another drink and settled in, expecting him to follow suit. In two hours, Kara fully expected him to have passed out, and perhaps by then, she could make some decisions. If the sun was coming up, she could swipe the water and slip away before he woke - that was the best course of action for both of them, she thought. If it looked like night would stretch on, though... well, she'd make that call when the time came.

Silently contemplating the stars, she tried to process what it could mean she'd turned up on Earth (if this truly was Earth). Could this be the destiny Leoben was so keen on? Some lonely, shiftless man in the middle of a bleak desert? Gods, she hoped not - he wasn't bad-looking, but she really didn't need anyone else's problems on top of her own, nor did she want to hitch her own problems to another.

Kara exhaled a perfect ring of cigarette smoke and attempted to look untroubled. "It's fine - they can wait a few hours." She even managed some kind of a grin and turned to survey him in the light cast by the moon. "I hate to be presumptuous - " (and that was a lie) "-but you don't seem like someone who cares too much about protocol, Lieutenant."

((ooc: And ILU! <3 <3 <3 We're down to hours!))

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

At first, Al had to really think about why Kara was saying. He immediately assumed her to mean he wasn't good with protocol, but realized after a thoughtful sip of the fermented hops and barley that she had just been seeing him for who he was. Nodding, he alternated between the beer and the cigarette. "'Spose you're right, sure. I mean, there isn't exactly protocol for these sorts of situations, are there? I can't just pull out the pilot's handbook and pop into the section talking about downed UFOs." Or, well, he didn't think he could. He'd never really read into the manuals to know for sure.

Off in the distance -- perhaps on another road, perhaps on bare desert -- a car lights broke through the darkness. They were barely pins of light moving in tandem across the horizon, but it got Calavicci's attention and he noted them with a flick of his wrist in case Thrace hasn't seen. "Not as big a place as we're led to believe," he commented idly. It had been some time since he'd seen another car, so he wasn't so surprised to find more civilization now.

And, really, wasn't this just the way of things? Al had come out to the desert to be alone, and here he almost instantly found himself a companion -- a just-as-elusive companion, at that. If he didn't already know better, he'd've guessed she was there to check up on him. However, the sheer fact that she came out of the sky was enough that he could call himself silly. No one crashes a plane to keep an eye on a lowly Lieutenant, Junior Grade (even one with a high security clearance level.) As an afterthought, he said matter-of-factly, "Besides, whatever protocol I'm lacking is lacking on your end, too. I'll willing to forgive and forget, though, if you're willing to do the same." He chuckled, took one last hit, and tossed down what was left of the smoke.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Kara smiled easily, trying to look unconcerned by the approaching headlights. It was wholly true she didn't put much faith in protocol, and it only worked in her favor that it showed. It had certainly earned her enough of Calavicci's trust for him to let her into his car, and for the moment, she was glad to appreciate the small victory.

She gestured to the approaching lights with the end of her cigarette. "Not expecting anyone, were you?" Doubtful, but it never hurt to ask - and if he had any guesses as to who might be bearing down upon them, she hoped he'd be bright enough to offer them up.

As she tossed the cigarette into the gravel, her gaze went to her reflection in the side mirror - she was smudged in all the wrong ways, and Kara realized she looked like the pot of gold at the end of the Viper-colored rainbow she'd left streaked all over the scrub brush. Hastily swiping errant soot marks and rubbing her cheeks rosy, she tried to make herself look... well, 'presentable' wasn't exactly her aim, was it? Running her fingers through her damp hair completed her not completely unappealing transition from dirty downed ace to desert-warm superior officer taking in the sights.