New Mexico / June, 1958 / 07:22
Mar. 14th, 2010 04:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bingobangobongoWhen 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.
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.
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Date: 2010-04-29 10:45 pm (UTC)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.
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Date: 2010-04-29 11:13 pm (UTC)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.
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Date: 2010-04-30 12:49 am (UTC)Bingo tapped his fingers in time with the music. As far as he was concerned they could just chug what remained and go, but he realized no one would have any sort of fun like that. Unfortunately, the closer he came to Florida, the less he felt like having fun. It felt cruel for life to grant him a friend of such caliber that he would probably never see again.
Perhaps it was self-imposed tension that shook something loose, but Calavicci felt like sharing. "I was debating on asking for a discharge," he revealed, looking down at the bubbles in his beer. "When you crashed," he added, to clarify.
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Date: 2010-04-30 01:11 am (UTC)She blew out a weary breath, the pretense of relaxation gone in an instant. There was no use trying, she guessed - either the tension weighing them both down would dissipate or it wouldn't, and Kara couldn't force it one way or the other. She drained her second beer before fixing him with a level gaze. "What for?" she asked.
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Date: 2010-04-30 02:04 am (UTC)"Well," he started, spreading his fingers out on the table, "a lot went on, you know? And in step the politicians because they can't not be involved and I don't know if I want to fight with them, against them, or just through them. And..." Al frowned. And nothing. That was it, he told himself.
He smirked and finally looked up at her. "What d'you prescribe, doc?"
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Date: 2010-04-30 02:27 am (UTC)She leaned forward, resting her forearms on the tabletop, studying him through wholly sympathetic eyes. "If you were just one of my pilots, I'd tell you get the frak out of my sight," she began. Kara rearranged their glasses so there was a fresh one before both of them. Lifting her hair and swiping her cool hand across the back of her neck served to ease the tension pooling between her shoulder blades.
With a little shrug, she lifted her glass by the rim, tapping the bottom gently against his. "But you? I'd say you'd better report in the morning." She gave him a sincere smile - that was the highest compliment she could pay anyone, and she hoped he knew it.
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Date: 2010-04-30 06:14 am (UTC)Al shifted in his chair and straightened up because he knew there was no arguing. She was right, even if she hadn't laid it out in so many words. His griping and whining was nothing, if not pathetic, considering. What could the politicians do? It's not like they could follow him into the cockpit. Or into space.
He shot back a smile just the same and took up his beer, raising it to her. "Yes, sir." Speaking her language, he dispensed of the ayes but kept the salute and then drank.
Stopping long before the finish, Calavicci shook his head and set his glass down. "Ah, I'm sorry." And he genuinely was. "What do I know, right? I'm just here to follow orders. Most orders." And then a laugh, because he really was a pretty good soldier and he rarely found need to disobey.
Ain't nothing quite like a healthy reality check. His worries, spoken and unspoken, weren't going to make the decision for him this evening.
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Date: 2010-04-30 07:01 pm (UTC)There was no need in going down the path of her failed marriage, though, so she lifted her drink in a toast and took a healthy sip. “If you were gonna leave, you woulda done it already anyway.” At least, she thought a person just knew. It wasn’t the right life for many people (Lee Adama came to mind), but for her? The military was home, it was family, and even when everything else went to hell, she could count on it. Though she wasn’t much for rules and bylaws and codes, there was a sense of security there for her, something she’d sorely missed on those long, cold nights in the tent with Sam. Even here, where she was on the other side of things, she felt reassured knowing her bird would likely be tangled up in bureaucratic red tape for weeks as the branches of the service fought for dominance. Some things never changed, regardless of location.
She took another sip, turning the glass around in circles on the table and watching it even as she addressed Calavicci. “Why’d you enlist, Bingo?” she asked curiously. If he didn’t want to answer, it was okay by her, but everyone had a reason.
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Date: 2010-04-30 11:12 pm (UTC)"I wasn't the best kid around, but I certainly wasn't the worst. I found trouble, sure, but it was never anything too extreme; I wasn't spending all of my nights down at the station," he quipped. He was exaggerating, of course, but he didn't see any harm in the morphing of incidental details.
Taking pause to light his Lucky Strike, Calavicci thought back like a child thumbing through a flip-book. His mind skirted the edges of major accomplishments and minor crimes, lost loves and gained fortunes, never focusing deeply on any one particular memory. The colorful motion picture forced a change in the lieutenant, his body becoming loose and relaxed. For all the mistakes and regrets, if there was one thing he could feel confident about, it was his past. It defined his core being for his own benefit so he might forge ahead into his future educated on his own self-worth. In fact, such thinking had done him wonders when cutting through the long line of prospective candidates for the space program.
He puffed out smoke with a thoughtful expression on his face. "It worked out pretty well for me. I drifted through a couple of my teenage years like a nomad, but it was great. I always had what I needed, many times due to the kindness of total strangers." This was where he stopped a moment for a drink and another short short pull on the cigarette.
"After a while, I started to see a pattern. 'Course, I was lookin' for one, but that's not important. I realized it was structure benefiting me. And some amounts of discipline, usually pushed on me by odd jobs I took so I could eat and treat all the pretty girls. I wasn't too keen on the discipline -- no kid is -- but self-discipline? The kind you earn from surviving and thriving? A life-long asset, if you can learn it early." He pointed his cigarette in her direction to emphasize his point. "And I was really starting to feel like I needed a bit of a change, anyway. So, one day, I just decided." He shrugged as if it had been the easiest decision of his life. And really, it probably had been, up to that point.
"Navy had about everything I needed and they told me I'd be able to fly. I signed the papers and didn't even go back for my things." He had eventually sent the nuns a letter, but that hadn't been until flight school.
And now he was looking at her expectantly. Even if he wasn't going to ask how she'd ended up in the service, he had the desire to know and hoped she might share.
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Date: 2010-05-01 02:32 am (UTC)She could tell he expected her to reciprocate, but the truth was unpleasant at best and all too familiar at worst, so she delayed, lighting a new cigarette from the old one. It was a nasty habit, but gods, how wonderful to have cigarettes available.
When the silence stretching between them began to feel tense, she met his eyes. "I had my heart set on being one thing, but it didn't work out, so I went for the next best thing - an easy job with steady pay." At least, that's what her position had been up until the war.
She shrugged uneasily and shifted her gaze back to the band. Leaving it there felt wrong, though, so she added, "It's home, though." With a small shrug, she glanced back to Calavicci. "But you know that." With that, she drained her beer and set the empty glass with its fellows. The three empties looked so pathetic there, so telling, she sat up, squaring her shoulders. That was quite enough ancient history for one lifetime to Kara's way of thinking.
"So!" she went on brightly. "A movie, I think, was the next phase of your brilliant plan?"
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Date: 2010-05-02 03:15 am (UTC)Setting himself back to the plan at hand, Bingo beamed at Thrace. "I'm glad you think it's brilliant, thank you." He even dipped his head "humbly."
The need to finish his beer was obvious. The cigarette, too. "Yeah, let's get outta here." Since he could take the smoke with him, he let it sit in the ashtray while the beer was tended to. It didn't take him long, and it left him feeling buttery and soft for once in a long time. Truth be told, he hadn't had this much fun (or decent companionship) in what seemed like years.
Al retrieved the last of his cigarette and stood, expectantly offering his arm. "I hope they serve whiskey," he mused, his nose up and tone austere. Haha, let's face it: they wouldn't be served whiskey, but wouldn't it be nice?
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Date: 2010-05-02 03:39 pm (UTC)Before they made it outside, Kara begged his pardon and went to the ladies', sending him outside on his own. She refreshed herself before the mirror, tying her now-wavy hair up into a ponytail to keep it off her sticky neck. Though not one much for vanity, she did know when she looked good, and even sans a touch a makeup, wearing knotted hair and a too-tight dress, and enough scrapes and cuts to make her look more tomboy than tomcat, Kara figured she wasn't too bad off.
On her way out, she stopped at the bar, did a little creative flirting to get what she wanted, went back to the table to collect the pilfered blazer from earlier, and joined the waiting lieutenant outside.