Antonia and Luc exchanged slightly bewildered, certainly bemused expressions that said everything needful without a single word between them. The rogue shrugged and nodded after the First Mate and her strangely terse invitation, and Luc only grinned as he fell in behind Nicolette. Captain Lightfoot had told him only this morning, he ought to speak little and obey far more until he had earned his place, and following the orders of the ship's First Mate certainly fell under that bailiwick!
The First Mate's quarters were in complete and perfect order, as would only be expected by now. The rogue didn't doubt for a moment that the remnants of a night drinking, the bottles and the lingering smell of alcohol-laced vomit, were a mere aberration to the order Nicolette Beauchamp would normally demand of herself, and in everything around her.
Luc's dark, amber-flecked eyes were wide with awe as he took everything in, half beside himself with the realization he was actually inside Mademoiselle Beauchamp's quarters! Antonia was only about to thank the First Mate for this unexpected and unasked for kindness when some commotion or other broke out on the deck, snapping up her attention.
Antonia wondered for a moment if she should follow after Nicolette. She knew as well as anyone what that smacking sound meant - but then again, she knew well there was nothing she could offer to seeing peace returned on the deck that Nicolette could not do just as well herself. And in truth? The rogue suspected Nicolette just might be half-glad for the reason to bolt so swiftly from her own quarters, despite her own invitation within.
And so Antonia settled into one of the offered chairs, her eyes roving the small confines of the First Mate's quarters before pulling the other chair some closer, patting the seat to invite Luc to join her. Yes, that grey-eyed gaze had certainly caught sight of a rather battered pair of boots in the shadows, a pair that were far too large and not near-so-well tended as any the First Mate would wear. But this sight was probably the least mysterious of all enigmas and contradictions that whirled about Nicolette Beauchamp, and she was quite content to let this go unremarked upon.
For not a moment did it occur to Antonia, or to Luc, that they might take advantage of the time they had alone within the First Mate's quarters to snoop about the golden woman's papers and possessions. Whatever mysteries still remained to Nicolette Beauchamp would remain her own and in the strangest bit of irony, were as safe in the presence of the roguish spider and her offspring, as they might have been in the deepest, darkest vault.
Besides, there were stories to be told...
"So... A story then!" Antonia clapped her hands together swiftly as Luc settled into his own chair, a signal the boy knew well for the start of a story it was meant to be. A slow smile began to spread over his face as he settled into his chair, knees to his chest, arm wrapped about them as he watched the animated and exotic features of his Tante 'Tonia flicker in the flame light.
"What do you say, another story of Anansi the Spider then? My own Maman did love them so, the tales of the trickster rascal. But did you know... ?" Antonia's warm, spice-rich voice trailed off, the tease drawing Luc's rapt attention further to her laughing, grey-eyed gaze.
"Not always did Anansi play the tricks! Oh no! The keeper of wisdom and stories, the crafty trickster must of course have learned so many before he could craft them himself! And so even when he was outwitted, he kept the story to share, for his beloved people to learn all the most clever of ways."
"One man who outwitted Anansi himself, was a fisherman. First know, that Anansi thought to trick the fisherman because the Spider, while so very smart, was also more than a touch lazy as well. But the fisherman was wise, and knew his friend's ways when Anansi suggested they go fish together... "
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Oh merciful heaven, who WOULD want fruitcake Justric, like... Ever? *shudders* And don't feel bad hon - we just need to embrace all our years. They've seasoned us like... Like... Fine wine or... Something >.> 
And thanks Idle ;)
eta: enjoy the relaxings, RR! *waves*
And thanks Idle ;)eta: enjoy the relaxings, RR! *waves*
*grumbles some shit about spoiled youngsters and "back when WE had to wolf down MREs cold, without heaters and prissy veggie crackers and pseudo-Nutella... "*
eta: Not a clue what an MCI is, Justric?
eta: Not a clue what an MCI is, Justric?
Poor Bill - damn those one-size-fits-all cryobeds! That was awesome RR.
HA! Oh that took me back RR... We're a bit more old school though, and I have to admit that glistening, shining bit of hell I've never had the not-pleasure of trying. HOWEVER...
Once upon a time, way back in the day before MREs even came with heater packs, there once lived the unholy ancestor to the "Cheese and Veggie Omelet," innocuously known as "Omelet with Ham" (and in case anyone's noticing a pattern here, for the love of all that is good and right in this world, do NOT eat an MRE labeled with the word "omelet!"). It was an abomination that no amount of tabasco sauce could hide, and those who tried to brave the experience, ingested it at room temperature at best.
The one MRE I always went for was Chicken with Rice, not because it was edible (it wasn't, at least not without that whole teeny bottle of tabasco) but for all the good stuff that came with it, like the M&M's that were good to trade. I grew rather fond of the apple jelly and peanut butter "sandwiches" on those rock hard cracker squares.
HA! Oh that took me back RR... We're a bit more old school though, and I have to admit that glistening, shining bit of hell I've never had the not-pleasure of trying. HOWEVER...
Once upon a time, way back in the day before MREs even came with heater packs, there once lived the unholy ancestor to the "Cheese and Veggie Omelet," innocuously known as "Omelet with Ham" (and in case anyone's noticing a pattern here, for the love of all that is good and right in this world, do NOT eat an MRE labeled with the word "omelet!"). It was an abomination that no amount of tabasco sauce could hide, and those who tried to brave the experience, ingested it at room temperature at best.
The one MRE I always went for was Chicken with Rice, not because it was edible (it wasn't, at least not without that whole teeny bottle of tabasco) but for all the good stuff that came with it, like the M&M's that were good to trade. I grew rather fond of the apple jelly and peanut butter "sandwiches" on those rock hard cracker squares.
Reece and dem eyes... SO nice 
Just put in a small holdover so RR can get Big Bill in. I don't plan to stand on any rigid posting order - as far as I'm concerned, if someone wants to call "dibs" just say so, and all good. And if anyone wants to get some small conversation before the briefing starts, sounds good to me!
Just put in a small holdover so RR can get Big Bill in. I don't plan to stand on any rigid posting order - as far as I'm concerned, if someone wants to call "dibs" just say so, and all good. And if anyone wants to get some small conversation before the briefing starts, sounds good to me!
"... No, really Lee, I got this. There's no sense in hanging you out there, and then disappearing into cryo. I'll be the face fielding questions on both sides for the foreseeable future. Best to just rip the bandage off now." No matter the pulsating misery in her skull that the maximum allowable dose of aspirin couldn’t begin to touch, the First Sergeant’s encouraging smile was wide and genuine –
- and barely earned the ghostly glimmer of a smile in Stanford’s handsome mahogany-skinned face. Still, the military police commander nodded, reluctantly she knew. Lee Stanford looked haggard, worry-worn seemingly overnight. Of course last she had seen him was yesterday for her, but three years ago for Stanford. Three long years that had seen the once distinguished silver streaks at his temples travel deep into his wiry black hair. He looked tired, like he hadn't slept in days... Weeks. Months even.
He really was a good man. There was no lack of faith in his First Sergeant's ability - far from it. He just hated to leave this in Abby's lap, the razor sharp mind of the former high school math teacher racing through all the permutations, possibilities, probabilities, variables, unknown quantities...
That perennial Devil Dog greeting, shouted at an already sadistic volume and amplified by the Auditorium’s natural acoustics, rang through Abby’s skull with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer to blown glass.
One of Abby's slightly bloodshot blue eyes squeezed shut as she grimaced almost imperceptibly, and she turned toward the unmistakably exuberant Sergeant Davis with a small groan of pain. Her eyes widened, eyebrows lifted above a too-wide, too-toothy grin that acknowledged that perky bastard's jubilant greeting with a silent, sardonic and genuinely heartfelt 'fuck you very much' blazing in her electric blue gaze.
“Corporal LOPEZ! Darle un puñetazo en la cabeza, yeah?” Abby nodded tacit encouragement and laughed, genuinely laughed and though it hurt like hell, she felt all the lighter for it. Leave it to the indomitable jarhead with her son’s name to bring the first real laughter she’d had since she woke from cryosleep. Even CPT Stanford’s ghost of a smile became slightly less ephemeral – if only for a moment.
But that moment could not last long, and Stanford took his First Sergeant’s elbow, leaning to whisper in her ear. Abby simply nodded.
“Yes sir. Understood. I will not forget,” she answered him, her voice low but with a hard edge Stanford knew well meant perfect agreement. They were a good team. He didn’t want to leave his right hand here like this but short of mutiny there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it now. Abby read all that to the last in Lee’s face, but there was no sense in prolonging this farewell.
“You’d best head out before the old man gets here,” she whispered before snapping to attention, lifting her arm smartly to salute her commander. Stanford nodded, returning her salute though he took Abby’s hand in his own when she dropped hers, wrapping hers in a firm shake. He looked very much like he wanted to say… Something. Anything more, but finally gave up the effort with a sigh.
“Good night, Abby.”
“Good night, Lee. See you when we get home.”
That earned far more than a ghost of a smile, and the MP commander turned to swiftly ascend the stairs his First Sergeant had descended minutes before. Abby watched him go until he left the Auditorium, and she could finally allow her gaze to roam the newer arrivals, relieved and buoyed all at once to see some of those familiar faces.
It'd be damn near impossible to miss the azure hair of Connor - hell she'd have to be blind. But the sight of the young mechanic who'd indulgently made a "tool monkey" of Michael where he could made her grin, and she lifted her hand with a quick wave - and read his shirt. She laughed again, hoping to catch his eye while plucking at the corners of her own ACU blouse. 'Nice shirt,' she mouthed silently with a grin and a wink.
Hell, it was even good to see that roguish roughneck Reece - and better still with Gavin leaning over to talk with him, wearing that perrenial Caltech sweatshirt she knew so well. She didn't try to catch their attention - there'd be time enough later to catch up. The Auditorium was filling, the hologram forest slowly filling with its denizens, and the briefing would be starting moments soon enough anyway.
Abby paced the small landing just below the raised platform, toward the stairs that would take her to the stage, her eye catching a dark-haired form from the corner of her eye. Wide, wet eyes threatened more tear than one as she looked about them at the lovingly rendered forest all around. The poignant misery on her pretty face was impossible to miss, and Abby did not simply walk by as if she saw not a thing. She reached to lay a strong, warm hand on the woman's slender shoulder, squeezing gentle reassurance that she was not alone - not in the least. Her hand did not linger, though she left the young woman with an encouraging smile before she moved once more to the stage steps.
- and barely earned the ghostly glimmer of a smile in Stanford’s handsome mahogany-skinned face. Still, the military police commander nodded, reluctantly she knew. Lee Stanford looked haggard, worry-worn seemingly overnight. Of course last she had seen him was yesterday for her, but three years ago for Stanford. Three long years that had seen the once distinguished silver streaks at his temples travel deep into his wiry black hair. He looked tired, like he hadn't slept in days... Weeks. Months even.
He really was a good man. There was no lack of faith in his First Sergeant's ability - far from it. He just hated to leave this in Abby's lap, the razor sharp mind of the former high school math teacher racing through all the permutations, possibilities, probabilities, variables, unknown quantities...
That perennial Devil Dog greeting, shouted at an already sadistic volume and amplified by the Auditorium’s natural acoustics, rang through Abby’s skull with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer to blown glass.
One of Abby's slightly bloodshot blue eyes squeezed shut as she grimaced almost imperceptibly, and she turned toward the unmistakably exuberant Sergeant Davis with a small groan of pain. Her eyes widened, eyebrows lifted above a too-wide, too-toothy grin that acknowledged that perky bastard's jubilant greeting with a silent, sardonic and genuinely heartfelt 'fuck you very much' blazing in her electric blue gaze.
“Corporal LOPEZ! Darle un puñetazo en la cabeza, yeah?” Abby nodded tacit encouragement and laughed, genuinely laughed and though it hurt like hell, she felt all the lighter for it. Leave it to the indomitable jarhead with her son’s name to bring the first real laughter she’d had since she woke from cryosleep. Even CPT Stanford’s ghost of a smile became slightly less ephemeral – if only for a moment.
But that moment could not last long, and Stanford took his First Sergeant’s elbow, leaning to whisper in her ear. Abby simply nodded.
“Yes sir. Understood. I will not forget,” she answered him, her voice low but with a hard edge Stanford knew well meant perfect agreement. They were a good team. He didn’t want to leave his right hand here like this but short of mutiny there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it now. Abby read all that to the last in Lee’s face, but there was no sense in prolonging this farewell.
“You’d best head out before the old man gets here,” she whispered before snapping to attention, lifting her arm smartly to salute her commander. Stanford nodded, returning her salute though he took Abby’s hand in his own when she dropped hers, wrapping hers in a firm shake. He looked very much like he wanted to say… Something. Anything more, but finally gave up the effort with a sigh.
“Good night, Abby.”
“Good night, Lee. See you when we get home.”
That earned far more than a ghost of a smile, and the MP commander turned to swiftly ascend the stairs his First Sergeant had descended minutes before. Abby watched him go until he left the Auditorium, and she could finally allow her gaze to roam the newer arrivals, relieved and buoyed all at once to see some of those familiar faces.
It'd be damn near impossible to miss the azure hair of Connor - hell she'd have to be blind. But the sight of the young mechanic who'd indulgently made a "tool monkey" of Michael where he could made her grin, and she lifted her hand with a quick wave - and read his shirt. She laughed again, hoping to catch his eye while plucking at the corners of her own ACU blouse. 'Nice shirt,' she mouthed silently with a grin and a wink.
Hell, it was even good to see that roguish roughneck Reece - and better still with Gavin leaning over to talk with him, wearing that perrenial Caltech sweatshirt she knew so well. She didn't try to catch their attention - there'd be time enough later to catch up. The Auditorium was filling, the hologram forest slowly filling with its denizens, and the briefing would be starting moments soon enough anyway.
Abby paced the small landing just below the raised platform, toward the stairs that would take her to the stage, her eye catching a dark-haired form from the corner of her eye. Wide, wet eyes threatened more tear than one as she looked about them at the lovingly rendered forest all around. The poignant misery on her pretty face was impossible to miss, and Abby did not simply walk by as if she saw not a thing. She reached to lay a strong, warm hand on the woman's slender shoulder, squeezing gentle reassurance that she was not alone - not in the least. Her hand did not linger, though she left the young woman with an encouraging smile before she moved once more to the stage steps.
And Deli joins us too - surprised and so happy to be awake! I might know that feeling too some days... 
Ah I see, better to ask forgiveness than permission? So it would seem...
That was a beautiful post Dot, and thank you for sharing the mystery of Daisy, and the knowledge that there are the answers.
That was a beautiful post Dot, and thank you for sharing the mystery of Daisy, and the knowledge that there are the answers.
I like that exoskeleton too RR - sent the exact same one a couple days ago.
idlehands said
If this mech's a rockin', don't come a'knockin'.
The mess that just went through my head...
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