New Mexico / June, 1958 / 07:22

[bingobangobongo]

When Calavicci awoke, it was early. Too early to mention. Morning loomed as a concept -- darkness lingering in the pre-dawn hours. The horizon was just taking on some color, showing the contrast between the earth and the sky.

The drinking the evening before, coupled with the ridiculously long day they had shared sent Thrace to bed early. Albert had followed rather quickly, draped just as unceremoniously on his matching, opposing twin bed. The bed and breakfast had turned out to be a fine idea; a quiet and discreet get-away that appeared to be empty aside from the two of them.

Wiping away the sleep from his eyes, the young Lieutenant took a glance at his newly-found companion and was surprised to see she was already awake. He could tell she knew he was up -- her posture changed and her back straightened. Al squinted at her. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

He nodded and dropped back onto the bed, inexpertly tugging the bed quilt over himself. Covered from shoulder-to-knee, Calavicci tried to think about how nice it would be to catch a few more hours of sleep, but he was deterred from his goal by a niggling feeling. He listened to Kara's breathing, much shorter and hardly even compared to her sleeping state. It left him uneasy -- enough so that he didn't think he could cater to sleep.

"...borrow your car?" Barely there, her voice lost much of its inflection and strength.

Al sat up and found she'd turned even farther away. Her hair obscured her eyes, expression, everything the minimal light in the room would have allowed him to see. He was no fool, though: Being the type to appreciate women also afforded him insight into their mannerisms, and he could tell that something was definitely wrong. He nodded, even if Starbuck couldn't see it. "Yeah, I'll get the keys." While he had no clue where she was going, the way she said it told him he'd been right: something was amiss.

The keys were where he'd left them, half hanging from an empty beer bottle by the opener. Palming the keys, he fretted over the idea that he might never seen his beloved Lisa, the shiny red Corvette, ever again. He doubted Thrace would intend to steal it, just worried she might borrow it for a lot longer than he would have liked. "Sure I can't talk you into breakfast?" It was a puerile question in lieu of the mystery he'd already unraveled, but he thought it might help to break the tension.

When the Captain didn't answer, Calavicci frowned deeply. She had her hand outstretched for the keys, but she just didn't seem interested or able to respond. He took several tentative steps towards her and asked again, "Are you--"

"Fine," she snapped through her teeth and jabbed her palm-up hand at him in solicitation of the keys.

Al avoided her arm, small movements bringing him around her bed. Almost immediately, he could see the problem. Her knee, already aggravated from her crash landing, had swollen noticeably overnight. So much so that he could tell even with her flight suit covering it. Probably agitated from the minor amount of walking they had been forced to do while being held captive. He sympathized, familiar enough with trying to escape when there was no clear exit.

"Here." The offer of the keys didn't come without some hesitation. "But before you go--"

Thrace shook her head. "Don't." Her tone was low, almost dangerous.

But Bingo was not one to be put-off so easily. He cleared his throat and sat down uninvited next to her. "Now hold on, hear me out, all right? I think if you're going to take my car, you'd at least better let me have my say." Immediately, he could tell Kara was uncomfortable with the idea, but she remained sitting, her free hand pressed into her thigh, just above the knee.

Al cleared his throat, but it didn't help him to sound any more awake. "I know you're probably going to just... just go, but I'd like you to consider letting me help. I'm no doctor, but I can help." He'd dealt with his share of injuries and knew the principles of first aid well enough to feel confident in what he was offering. "Peeling off into the desert as fast the those wheels will take you is only going to distract you for a so long." He was pretty certain that had been her intention, and when she turned her determined face to look at him, he worried he might have been exactly right. She looked like she was in a considerable amount of pain and he hated to see it, but he wouldn't press.

For too long, they shared the quiet and the dark. The young Lieutenant could feel that she was shaking. The pressure she was putting on her upper thigh looked to be all she could do against the aching, swollen knee aside from grinding her teeth. "I would like to help," he finally revealed, hoping to take some of the stress or the decision off of her shoulders. "I promise I won't enjoy it too much."

Starbuck laughed, but it was more than that. Gasp, groan, hiss? All of it came out, pushed to the surface by his ridiculous comment. She only looked over for a second, but it was as clear an answer as Kara could give at the moment.

///

Preparations rarely went so smoothly. Calavicci took the steps in stride and precisely planned his shopping trip through the more intimate rooms of the bed and breakfast. He begged some Bufferin (a poor choice for this application, but better than nothing) from a locked downstairs bathroom, borrowed a tea towel full of ice, and outright stole a bottle of liquor from the cabinet, two glasses from the minibar, and a pair of shears from a kitchen drawer. It left him far too thrilled for his own good.

Hurriedly, he closed the door, noting the Captain had moved. She was pacing. Al deposited his provisions and fixed her with a look, dark gaze traveling up, lingering on the knee in question. Their eyes met and Kara lifted her chin. Needing no translation, the Lieutenant held off on any thoughts of lecturing.

"I've brought some things that should help." It wasn't so much a reminder of his intent as it was a reassurance that at least some relief was at hand. He took to emptying his pockets, dropping the bottle of Bufferin onto the bed.

Kara held her position. She didn't really like the idea, but she required Calavicci's help. She could have taken the car while he'd been gone but he was right: Even if she could drive, the throbbing pain in her knee was one hell of a distraction when she was at rest. She didn't quite know how to respond. "Uh, thanks."

Bingo busied himself with prep work, silent and dutiful in his task. His mind was wandering. He heard her shuffling behind him and it struck chord. That was a certain amount of stubborn bullheadedness there, wasn't there? He recognized that in the Captain as he sometimes did in himself. It would solve itself soon enough, he imagined. For as much resting as she had done, the pain appeared to have deepened. Rest would be a necessity.

His first step was simple. He lit a cigarette and immediately passed it off to Thrace. She took it, hit it, kept it and watched him. Calavicci then plucked up the bottle (it was whiskey) and poured two hearty double shots, each in a borrowed glass. He offered one and she accepted it with her other hand, leaving her without those extra balance points.

"It's a good pain reliever," Al explained.

Starbuck, hands shaking, dropped back the alcohol without a pause. She ran her arm across her chops and finally she sat. "You in pain?" Since he was drinking, she thought she'd ask.

"I'm here, aren't I?" He shook his head, an unfortunately short row of laughter escaping him. "It's a shame to have to drink alone."

Thrace nodded and watched him drink it down slower and smoother. And then he collected her glass and coupled it with the other.

Next was the Bufferin. He gave her two, but he didn't have any water. No matter, she took them dry, swallowing and succeeding to get them down unaided. Kara didn't know if it was the alcohol or his approach, but she noticed some relief. Only now remembering the cigarette, she ashed it in her free hand and took another hit. It seemed absurd to act so normally.

"You're going to have to let me get a look at that knee." Al's voice, low and gritty, was not commanding at all. It was curiosity, in part, but he also felt she would assess the damage done much differently than he might. If the roles had been reversed, the Lieutenant would have been professing his ability to run a marathon and dreaming of crutches in between his words.

Kara had been expecting it. "Yeah, fine." She hadn't looked in a while, anyway. Bingo held up the scissors, but she shook her head and passed off the almost dead cigarette before maneuvering herself halfway out of the flight suit. If it was all she had left of her old life, she wanted to preserve it.

Al tried hard not to look too intently. Under most circumstances he would was stared rather unabashedly, but he knew there was a time and place for such things and this was not it.

His first glimpse of the damage was a redness at her thigh where she had been pressing for who knows how long. It wasn't anything serious. Below that, the damage was more extensive. Her knee was angry and bruised but mostly just swollen. He could tell there had been troubles there before but he didn't need to tell her that. "It's pretty bad," he told her in the most sober of manners.

She didn't respond but she knew he was right. It would have been nice to have good, old, familiar Doc Cottle there but that was far too much to ask.

When he went to retrieve the tea towel and ice, Calavicci came back to find that Thrace had relaxed back a little more. The Bufferin was probably working some of it's magic and the ice would help even more. As carefully and gently as he could, he pressed the makeshift coldpack against her knee and winced in empathy when she did.

It was strange for him to be so close to a woman without being in a more intimate position. His fingertips touched her leg in one place or another while he held the pack; Al could tell just how rough his hands were in comparison. On another occasion, he certainly would have taken the time to show his appreciate for the female form but he, for once, couldn't put his mind of the sexual nature that could be gleaned from such proximity. Factually, he couldn't even relax until he felt that extra tension, caused by his application of ice, leave her.

Kara placed a hand next to his on the tea towel, taking charge of her own care now that he had provided some relief. Their hands didn't touch, but the contrast was enough to gain both their attentions. Al, olive and tanned, stood out against the tea towel and made Kara's pale hand look somehow smaller.

Calavicci felt like it was a quiet moment of understanding. They weren't all that different -- similar in principals and thrills, ambitions and expectations. When he finally removed his hand, he saw the look of appreciation in Starbuck's tight smile. But really, he didn't think it was anything she wouldn't have done for him.

Comments

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Kara had a different tactic in mind from Calavicci, and she tapped the huge man on his shoulder. He half-turned, clearly surprised someone would intervene, and she took advantage of his momentary misstep. One solid right cross sent him stumbling back a foot, his hands going immediately to his nose. The shock written across his face was more than worth the pain in her hand, and it gave her the split-second she needed to grab the young lieutenant by the lapel of his borrowed blazer and pull him toward her.

Lucky for her, Calavicci was the sort who caught on quick, and he fell into step with her immediately. Unlucky, however, was the fact Kara had no idea where she was going, and the route to the door was swamped with guests and more burly besuited men advancing through the crowd. Not about to to give up, she shouldered open the first door she came to, hoping against hope it wasn’t a closet. Fortune favored her for a moment, and she and Calavicci stumbled into the kitchen, much to the surprise of the staff milling around.

“’Scuse us,” she said, cutting across the bright room, heading for the door standing open into another alley. They’d just made it outside when she heard a ruckus kick up in the kitchen – clearly, they were being pursued. Instead of heading onto the main thoroughfare, Kara ducked down deeper into the alley, trying a door marked exit in the next building over. It admitted her, and she was thankful, but wherever she’d chosen was pitch dark when the door fell closed behind them. The place had a strongly familiar scent, and before she could place it, the narrow place they were standing in was illuminated from above. Kara looked up, frowning for a moment at the bizarre aspect of a twenty-foot high face appearing overhead. It took her all of thirty seconds to realize they hadn’t happened upon some bizarre parallel universe, but had in fact ended up in a movie theatre.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

Bingo was absolutely pale in the light of the silver screen, and while a good part of it was the lighting, the rest of him was up in arms over the incident that quite nearly took his head. "...whole buncha crackpots," he muttered to himself, hand over his heart.

He looked at Kara, eyes wide. "What in God's name was that all about?" For some reason, he had an inkling that she was at fault, but he wasn't about to go accusing her of as much. "That guy was- Jesus, he was twice my size." Whatever had worked up inside of him paused and he fixed the captain with a momentarily-approving look. "That was a good right, by the way, kid."

But his attention on the subject at hand had waned, thanks to the large reversed face of a very attractive blonde hanging overhead. Mesmerized, the young pilot ignored his woes and grinned up at the screen they were viewing from behind. "Well, hello there, Marilyn," he greeted, looking more interested than he should. When he'd gotten a moment's fill, he turned to the other blonde currently in his life and hitched a thumb over his shoulder. "Saw this a couple weeks ago. Some Like it Hot," he emphasized, giving Thrace the ol' eyebrow waggle.

Streetlight cut through the room, illuminating a section of the back stage and alerting Calavicci to the presence of others. Springing into action, he grabbed hold of Thrace's hand and pulled them into an alcove between cinder support beams. There was barely enough room; they were pressed shoulder to shoulder. Thankfully, the little hiding place was deep enough that they were well shadowed, even with the light from the door.

Two briefly lit figures entered in search. The man in the lead, a thin, wiry individual with a sunken African face, was holding a billy club. He led the second man, the bloody-nosed individual Kara had taught a lesson. After the latter hulked through the doorway, both men were soon plunged into the same darkness the two pilots had encountered earlier. The larger man, still holding his nose, flicked open a Zippo and illuminated some of the area. "You sure they came in here?"

The smaller man grunted. "Yeah, I seen 'em come in," he assured, moving closer to the screen. "They's here."

By now, Al was holding his breath. After the pounding the payphone had received, he didn't want to take any chances. He hadn't let go of Kara's hand; he couldn't tell if the rapid pulse he was feeling was his or her's, but he gave a squeeze and tried to catch her eye. Too dark to really see, he thanked his lucky stars that the sound track for the movie did well to cover any quiet speech. Leaning his head until he felt his lips brushed her hair, he whispered, "If we go now, we'd better hold that door closed behind us," The quip make him appear to have no proper sense of occasion, despite the obvious rush of adrenaline.

Meanwhile, the smaller thug was peeking past the screen into the audience while the larger stood behind in wait, flickering flame held aloft.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Moving around in the tiny space was difficult, not to mention dangerous, but she managed to lean closer, whispering against his ear. "You don't think there'll be more outside?" If she'd been going after two renegade Cylons she sure as hell wouldn't send two people and leave the door uncovered - of course, as she constantly had to remind herself, not everyone thought like a career soldier.

Just as she was starting to their they were really screwed, she felt a cool breeze on her bare ankle. Startled, she looked down to find the source. There was a gentle glimmer of light playing on the floor just beyond what she'd assumed was a wall. She slid a little closer, reaching around Calavicci as best as she could, and toed at it, finding it was just a fabric curtain.

She tugged on Calavicci's blazer, catching his eye in the low light and looking pointedly down. Now one to wait, she dropped down and crawled through the narrow space and out onto sticky floor of the theater. Luckily, it wasn't a packed house, so she didn't raise too big a stir, but she was on her feet at once and sprinting up the aisle anyway. She made it three quarters of the way before she heard one of the thugs cry out - she only hoped the lieutenant was hot on her heels.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

This was not how Al had expected, not did he approve of Thrace's plan. But, what choice did he have? He was a team player, so once the move was executed, Calavicci dedicated himself. While he had intentionally fallen behind to cover her escape, he found himself at a disadvantage as the disturbed and worried crowd began standing and moving toward the exit. Thankfully, the group of panicked moviegoers also slowed the two gentlemen trying to settle business with the Foxes.

Bingo called ahead, waving Thrace on enthusiastically. "Go, go!" His voice, gritty and commanding, carried well enough over the people it also garnered the attentions of their assailants. Not bothering to look, Al pressed himself this way and that, slipping rudely in between the members of the slow-moving herd.

He poured out of the doorway and practically tripped on the carpet because he was looking for Kara and not where he was going. She was nearby in the crowd. They both waved the other towards themselves causing the lieutenant to break into a fresh grin. At least they were similar enough in that aspect. However, the male half believed himself to have the right idea, as the thugs were going to dump out in front of them if they went in the direction she was angled for.

Feeling he had no other choice, he doubled back to Kara and in one swift motion removed his now-stolen blazer and draped it unceremoniously over her shoulders. "I think you'd best just come with me," he urged, turning their backs to the searching thugs. In the crowd, the costume change would buy them a little time, but it would only be so long before someone picked them out. His primarily dark features contrasted with Thrace's primarily light features making them a memorable pair.

Al didn't think this would work for long, so he hastened their pace and when confronted with the oncoming staff, stopped the nearest with a grab on his arm. "Those two hostile men following behind threatened and harassed my wife." Ah, that good old ruse. The theater attendant looked quite concerned and nodded firmly.

It might not gain them a lot of time (especially considering the brutes involved,) but on the off chance they'd be subdued or stopped completely, it would be quite a slick victory in Calavicci's corner, he thought.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Kara tried to look put-upon and fearful, but she'd never been much of an actress, and the best she managed was a slightly pained smirk. The sooner they were mingling with the crowd and departing from the scene, the better.

"What do you mean, 'follow you'?" she murmured, leaning close as though taking her dear 'husband' into confidence after the alleged crime. "Letting me lead isn't panning out the way you'd hoped?" Well, of course it wasn't - whenever Kara took the reigns, she usually steered herself into trouble. Still, the dash of danger had her blood up, and she was eager for a little more.

Still, he had a point - he'd looked strained and pale even before the attempted beheading, so there was no telling what had happened with his phone call. She guessed being tailed by a pair of thugs probably would not improve whatever night he was having. Not wishing to push him much further, she drew the blazer tighter to her and shook out her ponytail in further attempt to disguise herself.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

Oh, wonderful. Bingo fixed her with a look. "I seem to recall you making some sort of promise about keeping us out of the clink. I don't think I mentioned, but there's a place I'd like to visit less, and that's the morgue." That was where they'd aimed to put the pair of pilots, he was sure of it.

But, here he was, stopping them at the door and half-turning so he could look back at the scene they'd left behind. The two thugs were giving the gathered theater staff members one hell of a show. He looked back to Kara, eyebrow raised, "But, if for some reason I've offended your sensibilities as a lady" he mocked, cheekily, "then I suppose I could toss myself back into the fray."

What a terrible idea, Al. Still, he looked as if she'd challenged him, his expression becoming more mischievous by the second. "Might get a little roughed up, but I don't think you're the type to mind."

After all of this rush to escape, here he was, wasting away their time, tick, tick, ticking it away. It left him feeling a lot looser than a couple of rounds of beer. Adrenaline: Al's anti-drug (to sometimes be accompanied with his favorite drug, alcohol, though not really this time around.)

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Kara really never knew when to quit, but her ass was on the line as well, and if she took too large a misstep, she wouldn't just land in the brig. Even she couldn't be that reckless - at least not sober.

She grasped his forearm and hauled him along with her out into the street. "Roughed up I like, but you're no good to me dead."

Sighting along down the road for another place to duck into, she wondered if they wouldn't just be better to get out of town while the getting was good. "I leave the next move to you, because I'm not having much luck at keeping my promise." She plucked the folded up money from the neckline of her dress and pressed it into Al's palm. "That should at least make your decision a bit easier."

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

The transfer had Al looking around as if they'd just made some illegal transaction he didn't want anyone to see. In reality, he could see that the bill on top was rather large and felt they didn't need more trouble because of it. Everything had eyes when money was involved.

He counted the cash quickly as they walked, then shoved the whole mess into the pocket of his blue jeans just to keep it out of plain view. "Christ, what did you sell them, Thrace?" Obviously a heap of lies or misdirection, as they never received whatever they'd bought into.

Whether their luck would hold or not, Calavicci was thinking it probably was best to leave town. He didn't feel Kara had gotten a chance to see all that Memphis had to offer, but what good were the sights if they were looking at finishing it with a long vacation in the hospital. Or, as previously mentioned, the morgue. But then, he'd wanted to show her around the streets so badly... "Nevermind, let's just head across town, what d'you say? It's too early to turn in, and we've already paid for our room, so I don't feel much like leaving town. Maybe we can salvage what's left of this evening. We'll take a cab if we can find one."

He patted his pockets down for cigarettes, and finding none, looked at Thrace for relief. But of course, she didn't seem to be hiding any cigarettes where he could see, so he pictured them out of luck until he could find a place to get some.

[OOC: ILU x ∞!]

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

To Kara's way of thinking, the money was better in their pockets than in the hands of whoever Reynolds thought they were. She didn’t know what goods or services the man was expecting for his payment, but Kara had an inkling he wasn’t looking to pad his stamp collection – after all, she was hardly oblivious to the thriving black market trade in the Fleet. And while it was all well and good to buy soap and other sundries from illegal vendors, it was wholly another to engage in the burgeoning sex trade. Intuitively, she knew Calavicci would see things the same way, so she saw no need to point it out.

When they’d rounded a corner and lost themselves along another busy thoroughfare, Kara began sighting for taxis. No matter what trouble she’d landed them in, she knew they could salvage the evening. There was no telling what their little misadventure was doing to her friend’s career though, and as soon as they got themselves lost, she planned on bringing it up. If there was anyone particularly gifted at weaseling out of ‘official’ trouble, it was Kara Thrace, and she hoped she could lend her expertise to keep Calavicci out of hot water. She figured it was the least she could do.

She spotted a cab cruising down the street, and while a few people raised their arms to hail it, Kara put her fingers between her lips and whistled. It worked well (though it might have had more to do with her legs than with her ear-piercing whistle than she’d have ever guessed), and the taxi slid to a stop at the curb. She opened the door and gestured for Calavicci to enter first. Naturally, he insisted she climb in before him, and though her stubborn nature had grown weary of his gentlemanly solicitousness, some part of her enjoyed it, and she slid across the backseat without argument, trying to remember to present herself in a somewhat ladylike manner despite her still-damp, tangled hair and bruised knuckles.

“Where ya headed, ma’am?” the driver asked, turning to look at her. He grinned. “If it’s the sights you’re lookin’ for, I can show you ‘em myself. I get off in another twenty.” When the young lieutenant joined them and closed the door, the driver sighed and turned around. “Or not. Where to, pal?”

Kara looked expectantly to Calavicci, hoping he had some idea for a destination. It didn’t matter to her one bit what he chose – with every new part of the planet he’d shown her thus far, she’d loved it more and more, and had grown more excited to return to the Fleet with the good news Earth was a ready-and-waiting home for everyone.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

Calavicci tried not to be too put out by the man's attitude change. He debated on whether or not to mention it, but decided he'd had enough trouble with strangers and settled more into the worn seats of the cab. "Uptown," he instructed the driver, not intending to be more specific until he found his bearings a little better.

"At least we already ate," he mentioned, looking very much like he'd come close to losing said dinner more than a couple times throughout the last hour, or so. Still, Bingo bolstered himself with a nod and a smile and nudged Thrace with his elbow. "Got a good workout, too." Which wasn't at all accurate, as they'd only gone a particularly short distance, but the way Al's heart had been racing, it might as well have been aerobic.

Of course, he could think of a lot nicer ways to get his ticker racing, but thankfully no one was asking him to elaborate.

He let out a long puff and glanced over at Starbuck. "You okay, kid?" She seemed all right to him, but that didn't mean there wasn't something going on below the surface. Then again, if he had to guess, she was probably bubbling with excitement and enthusiasm over their near-miss, while he was only able to think about that big, meaty fist targeting him between the eyes.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

'Okay'? Couldn't he see she was practically vibrating with excitement and adrenaline and... what was that? Was it joy? Exhalation, perhaps? Either way, she was fit to burst.

Still, Kara didn't want to oversell it (especially not when they were in such close company and the driver was looking more at them than at the road). "Fine," she replied, breezily waving her hand at him.

She wanted to ask what was 'uptown', but she found out quickly enough. Neat buildings gave way to empty lots and unfriendly-looking bars, and what once must have been stately homes had mostly gone to seed. The people skulking around on corners and alleyways watched the cab go by with obvious suspicion. Kara was used to bad neighborhoods, though, and she watched the scenery change with interest.

"This is your plan?" she asked at last, turning to look at her companion. He looked a little too... peaky for her taste, but she anticipated a shared pack of smokes and few more drinks were on the horizon, so she hoped that'd perk him up.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

"Far as I got," he informed her, adding a shrug to emphasize. This was good enough for him, so he sat forward and rested his elbows on the top of the front seat, readying himself to talk to the cab driver. He peered at the fare box, making sure to note the cost of their ride, then tugged out his wallet and tossed some bills onto the front seat. "Here's fine." It wasn't much of a tip, and Al made sure to give the man a pointed look just in case he might have forgotten why. This, of course, he was able to justify it as he didn't believe Kara was the first lone woman the driver had offered himself.

"Gee, thanks, pal." The driver pulled the car over and gathered up the money. "I've got a family to support, y'know? A wife and kids."

Al smiled sweetly. "Then maybe you should think about them before offering private tours." Ah, but Al, how can you say such things? You were never particular about the rules in dating or marriage, you adulterer, you! Oh, right, because Kara couldn't be the first woman the driver had offered himself.

Feeling much better just by getting out of the cab, Calavicci reached back through the threshold and offered his hand to help Kara out. "Careful of the curb, here."

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Kara took his hand, shot a cold look at the cabbie for good measure, and climbed out of the car, being ever-so-'careful of the curb.' She folded her arms across her chest - looking around a little skeptically. Since she couldn't very well complain about the chivalry she so enjoyed, Kara didn't want to pass up the opportunity to rag on him for the neighborhood choice.

She turned a circle, checking out the block. Night had fallen at last and neon lights twinkled on bits of broken glass littering the sidewalks, making a multi-colored array of stars set in a broken cement sky. She heard police sirens in the distance underscored by the clatter and crash of a party picking up someplace nearby. Facing him again, she smirked. "So uh, come here often, Bingo? Or are we tourists?"

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

He waved her question off as if it were tangible and hanging in front of him. "All right, all right, I can hear the leeriness in your voice, okay? But you've got to trust me." With his statement complete, he held his head high and turned up the avenue. On hand in his pocket, he pointed ahead with the other and began to stroll rather leisurely.

Not two doors down, he disappeared into a doorway, swallowed by an old, red brick building. The little shop was smokey and dark, but carried a certain amount of useful items for a person who didn't quite make it to the general store in time.

Bingo bought a pack of cigarettes and begged some matches since he had no clue to the whereabouts of his lighter. By the time they finished exchanging money, Al was thanking the gentleman for their short chat he had filled with good advice that would hopefully lead them to their next destination.

He popped back out onto the sidewalk with the pack open and a cigarette already in his mouth. Feeling somehow lighter, Al pulled the cigarette from his lips, pointed it and two fingers into the air, took a deep pull of air and regarded Kara with a Look. "I've got a plan."

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

She snaked a cigarette from the open pack, extracted his lighter from the inside pocket of the pilfered blazer, and tossed it back to Calavicci after lighting her smoke. The first drag was amazing and the set her more at ease - and she didn't notice the twinkle in his eyes either. The extra sparkle did worlds of good for his color, too, and it soothed her worries.

"A plan? This I have to hear." She grinned, resting one hand on her hip, and smoking her cigarette. Kara wasn't sure what to expect, not in a place like this, but she counted on having fun?

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

"Thankfully, the cabs run for another couple hours," he began. "Should be plenty of time for us to pick up some drinks, and then I thought we could..." Al looked momentarily dubious about revealing his plan so early, but decided it'd be better to get it over with, just in case she didn't like it. "Thought we could catch a movie, since our last got interrupted." And why not? It was dark, usually pretty sparse so late in the evening, and it was somewhere to drink that allowed them to sit down (because he had the feeling they were going to need that.)

Bingo, feeling quite a bit more satisfied now that he was puffing on a Lucky Strike, gestured Thrace to come along with him. Even if she protested his idea, he felt they needed to keep themselves moving. Time was wasting, after all, and it was in such short supply as it was.

"I think it's probably safe to avoid crowds, at least for tonight. We seem better at finding trouble than a body should be." Call him crazy, but he was so amused by his own statement, he had a good laugh.

[OOC: Brown Cloud ate me. XD]

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Kara strolled along beside him, feeling far more at ease than she really had any right to. She'd happily go along with his plan - at least, it sounded somewhat less-likely that they'd get into trouble than anything she could come up with.

Still, there was something hanging over Calavicci, even if he seemed content to ignore it. Kara knew what it was to be spend a night drinking away her troubles only to have to rise early and face them, and she didn't want her fellow pilot to have to deal with that as well as her.

She looked at him sidelong. "So, uh, did you get through to whoever you needed to call?" She knew instinctively that if he had, it hadn't gone well.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

Bingo didn't seemed pleased at her inquiry. He considered enacting her rule to save himself the bother of answering, but figured there was little use. His hand reached up and scratched through his hair. "Huh? Oh. Yeah, I did." But, of course you did, Al! Doing his best not to fidget, he concentrated on his cigarette. "Didn't finish the conversation, though." Which he imagined would only make things worse. He wondered if the admiral had decided to send someone looking -- surely Pensacola had informed the Cape that he'd been calling in from Memphis. But, of course, his thought passed him by as he realized the Navy wouldn't pony up the cash or manpower for someone who wasn't even in special training yet.

"It'll be fine," he finally said, though it was uncertain exactly who he was trying to convince. "They've got your name, and Air Force has your plane, but I think that's about it. It's... practically nothing in the grand scheme of things." Keep telling yourself that, sure.

He looked over at Thrace hoping he hadn't turned her as pale as the idea made him feel. It was one thing to have trouble behind you and a whole other to have it waiting ahead. One way or another, he got the impression at lest one of them was going to be answering questions for a courtroom of uniforms and suits whether they liked it or not. "They can't really do a thing to me. I haven't told you anything you couldn't have found out on your own." At least, that's what he'd tell them, truth or not.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Kara, on the other hand, looked relieved. That was all that bothering him? That the military had her name? Well, it certainly drew into sharp relief how much of a stranger and a nobody she really was, but it was nothing to fret over. Not for her, anyway.

"Trust me, kid," she told him, jauntily, "they won't be able to do a damn thing with my name or my bird." Sure the Viper would probably have some... surprises for whoever dismantled her, but that was good news for Kara. The larger and brighter the red flags, the easier it would be for her to find it again.

Feeling that was settled, she pushed through the club's door first, slipping an arm into his as she crossed the threshold. The place was a dressed-down version of the club they'd just been so unceremoniously escorted out of, but the music was just as good - better, really, for the unrefined, pure tones of older instruments and unrestrained musicians.

Kara followed Calavicci to a small table at the back, waiting through the process of ordering a round of drinks, and then leaned closer. "So what about you? They're not gonna court martial you, but they're welcoming you back tomorrow with open arms, right?" Gods, she hoped so. Kara had already accepted the reality they'd be parting ways very soon - she wouldn't be able to endure the weight of guilt if she knew she'd done serious detriment to his dreams of going into space on top of it.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

"No, no. I think a court martial would be a little harsh seeing as how you're 'from here,'" he commented, purposefully using his fingers to quote out the last bit. "The admiral hadn't even gotten to me -- he was still talking about you when the phone when kaput." Really, how can the Navy blame him for being assaulted? He hadn't solicted or expected the attention, and while he could have stopped somewhere and finished his call, he felt it might be better done in the morning when all parties involved had some sleep under their belts. The hornet's nest had been been stirred enough for one day.

Bingo smiled kindly when their drinks showed up and then took up his beer into his hand and drank like a very thirsty man. Half remained, but he'd drink that much slower. "I'm not too worried. They can't really do much to me." Not at all true, lieutenant, but only time would tell.

He fixed her with a look. "You're pretty calm for a lady unsure of her fate." Sure, she didn't appear to have to answer to anyone, but that didn't mean she wasn't worried. Or scared.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Kara shrugged, shifting her gaze back to the band. It was a cowardly move, but they had so much in common, she didn't want to telegraph even more with a single look. She'd been too long out of practice in keeping close company with people who weren't just following her orders this many days in a row that she'd forgotten how to keep her guard up.

Once she felt she'd schooled her look into something more passive, she looked back at Calavicci. "What's the use in worryin', huh? So long as I'm not dead, I figure I'm good." Because if there was anything she'd learned over the past few years, it was that living was all there was. She had to do as much as she could in the limited time she wasn't just fighting to survive.

With that on her mind, she gave him a sincere smile, if a little dark. "So I'm just trying to take things as they come, y'know? No sense in making problems where there aren't any." No problems, Kara? Yeah, sure.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

Call him idealistic, but just living didn't equate to a certainly quality of life. To exist just to exist felt wasteful to him. Who was he to judge, though? Kara, obviously burdened in her own right, must have had loads of experiences to back up her statement. The way she averted her eyes told him novels worth of information.

"Sounds to me like a pretty rotten way to live. Not the part about taking things in stride -- that's good thinking -- but to just survive? It hardly makes life worthwhile. I wouldn't end mine if that were my only option, but I don't think I could feel fufilled on my deathbed. I have to strive to thrive." But, of course, this was a case of "each to their own." He wouldn't tear down her ideals as long as she didn't tear down his.

Having suddenly little use for moderation, Bingo drained the rest of his beer and then carefully placed the glass down in the same circle of condensation he'd removed it from. "I dunno, Starbuck." A sigh. "I guess I'd probably feel the same if I'd've spent some time in your shoes."

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Having wrapped her fingers around her glass to keep from fidgeting, Kara forced herself to meet his gaze directly, her smile fading slightly. She felt a strong desire to unburden herself to him, feeling he was just stubborn enough to keep her secret. But gods, she just couldn't - if she laid her mantle on his shoulders, there was no telling what he might let slip, even unintentionally or under the strain of military brass coming down on him for details about the mysterious pilot he'd offered a ride to.

She took a healthy drink, wishing she could suddenly regain the buzz she'd been riding all evening. Once she set her glass down, she leaned a little closer, speaking quietly. "Look, I've got nothing, okay? Nothing here anyway." She glanced sidelong, swiping her fingers across her lips tensely. When she looked back to Calavicci, her eyes were large and dark in the low light afforded by a guttering candle on the table between them. "Necessary for my mission," she added truthfully, needing the reminder she could not get too attached to anyone - not for their sakes or hers.

"But I can't focus on that, right? Would you?" With a small shrug, she sat back, crossing her legs and folding her arms across her chest. She chewed her lower lip a bit, but held his gaze rather defiantly.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

This was just getting more and more confusing and convoluted. The young lieutenant (junior grade) wasn't sure how it was possible to have nothing here and still be from here. It was a contradiction that made him raise an eyebrow, but he didn't press her on it. "We start with nothing and we end with nothing. But, no, I don't think that would be my focus."

Feeling they were running dry, he stood and went off to the bar to collect them up a couple more drinks. Whatever Thrace hid had him intensely curious. It helped a little to remind himself that they couldn't get tangled together for the sake of either of their careers, but that didn't stop him from speculating.

Even if she was from the United States, that wasn't who she was flying for. The bird the Air Force had taken into custody was as much an anomaly as an ace pilot like Starbuck falling out of the sky. Both the Navy and the Air Force were fighting over custody, each feeling they had precedence over the other in order to study the craft. But, of course, Al hadn't quite found a way to break that to his new-found friend.

When the beers arrived, he took all four in a skillful maneuver and inched his way back to their intimate little table. "Let's finish these and then try to find that movie, okay?" Because that was where he was going to try to talk to her, and he was not looking forward to breaching the subject.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Kara nodded, pushing her first empty glass to the edge of the table and taking up a second. His concern for her made everything hanging over her head loom that much larger. They'd part ways tomorrow, and tomorrow was only a few short hours away. What she'd do then was purely in the hands of the gods, and Kara had a niggling feeling she'd spent all her good luck credits surviving the crash and landing in Albert Calavicci's metaphorical lap.

So yeah, she was worried and scared, but having spent so much time already navigating both those minefields on a daily basis, she took it in stride. What else could she do? There was no one looking for her (no one who'd find her, at least), and if she intended to get home, she'd have to rely on herself to do it. It didn't matter what was in her way - the entirety of the United States Military was nothing compared to the legions of regenerating Cylons, the famine, disease, and hunger that plagued the Fleet and her pilots, or the weight of losing her entire world she'd already faced.

There was no explaining that to him, though, nor to anyone, so she took a drink. "There a third section of town we're looking for, Lieutenant, or are you just hoping for the best in the neighborhood?" she asked, smiling a little woodenly and shrugging out of the blazer in an attempt to recapture the ease she'd felt when the evening was still young.