M Valkyrie Flight - [EP0] Horseshoes and Walking Hand Grenades

[A_Bibor_Farkas]

Kess moved through the corridor beside Rosa, half a step behind and half a smirk ahead. She nodded toward the smaller woman’s pack. “Figures you’d come ready for a siege,” she said, amusement curling through her voice. “Guess that makes two of us. You keep the crew’s vices flowing, I’ll keep ‘em alive long enough to need more.” Rosa’s comment about the married pilots earned a low chuckle from Kess. “Oh, yeah. Fraternization regs are about to take a beating on this cruise,” she replied, eyes glinting as she watched Seara and Katja disappear into the crowd. “Bet you ten script the XO pretends not to notice as long as they’re productive. ‘Hands-on command style,’ right?” The mess hit them like a wall......noise, movement, the clatter of trays and boots. Kess didn’t bother hiding her distaste for the crush of bodies or the smell of recycled air and metallic polish. “Ah, the grand tradition of naval dining.....equal parts desperation and cheap antiseptic.” She looked at Seara and gave an exaggerated shrug. “You’re not wrong about the nap, Blondie, but at least here you can drink while you wait. Call it exposure therapy.” When Arye spoke up, defending her record, Kess turned just enough to meet the android’s eyes, her grin crooked but not unkind. “Revanacka’s Watch, huh? That explains the confidence.” She tilted her head, sizing her up. “Alright, Firewalker—you get a pass. But keep that energy steady. The first thing this ship’ll teach you is that the line between ‘crazy nuts’ and ‘career-ending’ is about one bad impulse wide.” Seara’s warning drew another snort from her. “Oh, don’t scare her off with all that ‘by-the-book’ talk. Misdemeanors build character. Hell, half the best pilots I know only stopped getting court-martialed because they ran out of paper.” Still, her tone softened as she glanced back to Arye. “Just don’t blow anything up that you can’t charm your way out of, and you’ll fit in fine.”
When Katja mentioned not passing up the chance for free drinks, Kess shot her a finger gun and a grin. “Now that’s the spirit. Priorities in order.” Her gaze drifted briefly over Gale, the towering dragoness keeping to herself at the back of the line. “And there’s our quiet one,” Kess murmured. “Every crew’s got one....the strong, silent type who looks like they could bench-press the flight deck. Give it a week, she’ll be the only sane one left.” The line barely moved, the hum of voices swelling with every passing minute. Kess exhaled sharply, crossing her arms. “We’re not getting to the front of this any time soon. Let’s grab a table before the rookies start singing fight songs.” She jerked her chin toward an open corner, already threading through the crowd with the unbothered confidence of someone used to carving space out of chaos. “Come on,” she called back over her shoulder. “I’m not missing my shot at the first round of free rum. We’ll toast to our sins and pretend command’s not planning to ruin it before morning.” With that, she disappeared into the churn of the mess hall, her laughter cutting through the noise.....sharp, reckless, and alive.

 

[Steeljaw36]

Katja grinned, her ears turning toward her fellow pilot as she spoke. “Always! Besides, drinking puts us on a mandatory 8 hours before we can fly again anyway, so you’ll still have plenty of time left to catch up on sleep, Seara!” She finished, giving a thumbs up at the other woman, before they headed into the crowd.

Kat almost laughed at the pleading tone in her wife’s voice, she’d long since learned that Seara sometimes got a bit grumpy when she didn’t get enough sleep. The horsewoman spared her wife the laughter, though her mirth was clear in her blue eyes. “Oh alright, we can grab a table and wait it out a bit.” Kat also pushed into the crowd, though in a direction a bit away from the crowds, toward the still mostly empty tables, gesturing to both Seara and Arye if she wanted to follow them. Spotting an empty long table, the genemod dropped into a chair, noting its open back, allowing someone with a tail a much more comfortable seat than cramming said tail to a side, which was a nice touch. “Better now?” She teased, flashing a grin to her wife.

 

[Arctic Android]

Rosa chuckled at her fellow pilot, Kess' assertion. "I think you're right about this, but just to make it interesting; I bet you a bottle of the good stuff that you're not." she followed this with a provocative raising of eyebrows and a smirk. "You taking the bet?"
While the lot of them were slowly making their way to the mess, their plight became obvious. Like all things in any branch of an armed force, it appeared even the simple act of handing out booze would have to go through hoops and red-tape, meaning their drinks were theoretically free, but ultimately would eat away their entire timeslot for RnR. She clicked her tongue at the still-forming lines, and looked about for whatever poor sap was in charge of the impromptu handouts. She'd find their identity from the tags, and shoot them a step-by-step "Ensign's guide to making shit run properly" she'd made in boot, and hope that sped things up.

"I'll aid you in taking, then holding said table, oh dame of tactics!" she'd laugh. At her short stature she would not be deterring anyone from the table, lest they were experienced in pit-fighting and caught wind of the way she moved... But oh well. A fight was a surefire way of making new friends. The three primary ways were Fighting, Feasting, or Fucking. At this point the two first were looking most likely, though with the regs being relaxed, the third was not off the table either. A quick image flashed that made her grin, of a table being used for just such a thing,

Before any kerfuffle began however, she'd waved the silent dragoness over, and made the others from their little group who could see her in the throng aware of their prize; one pristine - as pristine as anything could be on an active duty ship - table, but not quite as nice as the officers' table over by the wall.