Log:Beef Wellington and Lacey Tatas
While the pool area is largely vacant, it is sparsely populated, at present, by two people, and one of them is a dark-haired slip of a thing bundled in a towel, her present state of half-dress obscured by that sheet of terry so large it can wrap up an equine comfortably. She lets out a small sneeze.
The man with her, one of the Renegade's members of its overworked maintenance crew, is presently patting her back with a hand as large as the entire span of her head, laughing all the while.
"I've met all kinds, missy," he begins. "But I've never seen anyone sink to the bottom as fast as you!"
A FEW MINUTES AGO....
Never say that Dawn Antilles doesn't follow good and sound advice when provided to her. The Resistance's newest operations officer has managed to secure a few hours of downtime to herself - much needed after devoting most of her stay in Nar Shaddaa with the serious business of intelligence gathering. Having just arrived back in Blackrock Station at the good graces and piloting skills of David Ironside, she recalls Jessika's words about making the time, which is precisely what she is doing in order to get better acquainted with her new home.
Her explorations take her up to the higher levels of the station, immediately drawn to the sights presented by the observation window and its display of the glittering spray of distant stars and the aural hues of distant planets. She stands there for a few moments, enthralled, until her ears prick at the sound of a splash behind her.
Turning around, she finds nothing but errant ripples across the pool's sapphirine surface.
"What in the..." she murmurs, taking a few steps closer to the edge, peering down.
A large, muscled man dressed in next to nothing suddenly surfaces directly in front of her, flinging his hair back.
The relative silence of the pool area shatters at the sound of a surprised yelp, and another accompanying splash.
"I thought I was alone!" Dawn protests, cheeks flushed with color, and turning her green eyes to the /far/ side of the room, doing her level best to keep her stare /away/ from the half-naked man attempting to dry off her (formerly, perfectly coiffured) hair. "I wasn't...it didn't...just how much do you...please put a shirt on." The last said rather helplessly.
The big man laughs again and does /nothing/ of the sort. In fact, he only leans back, and makes his pectorals /move/.
"Oh, stars, kill me," Dawn groans, turtling further into her borrowed towel.
"You're adorable, lieutenant," the maintenance worker says, pressing a large palm on her wet hair and giving it a ruffle. "But never say I'm not obliging." He stands up at that, and starts heading for one of the changing rooms.
"So that'll be tea, right? Or are you thinking of caf?" David Ironside asks, appearing at the entrance. The pilot had been walking right outside when the splashes caught his attention. People don't tend to splash in the pool, content to just swim laps and get out. David is dressed in his regular uniform, the door slides closed behind him to keep the humidity in the pool area as much as possible. He wanders close to the edge of the water, headed directly for the bar. "I think I'll join you, I could use some caffeine, personally." He gives her a glance, grinning at the towel. "Unless you don't want company right now."
Her shoes are off, but the present integrity of her clothing is largely obscured by the extra-large towel draped on her person, so big (presumably to accommodate for the owner's sheer size) that it may very well be a tent. Long legs are visible from underneath, however, but clad in black, still wearing the kind of gear she favors whenever passing herself off as a career spacer in hives of scum and villainy like Nar Shaddaa. Once she realizes that someone has noticed the commotion, however, Dawn groans again, tilting her head back and flashing a helpless look towards the ceiling, because it just figures, doesn't it?
David's grin towards her towel doesn't help her currently flushed state any. Cheeks burn a fiery red.
"Tea, please," she grumbles instead, standing up from the end of the pool, tilting her head just so and sweeping towards the bar with the kind of imperiousness she doesn't really feel - more like a solid attempt to reclaim the bits of her dignity that she has just lost. Considering the size of the towel however, and the way she bundles herself back up within it, it looks more like a head-to-toe poncho, extra length of fabric trailing behind her.
She looks ridiculous.
But once at the bar, she settles in a stool and slowly tilts forward onto the counter, face buried into the folds of her towel, to the point that nothing is visible save for the bridge of her nose, and errand locks of dark chocolate hair spilled upon the surface in damp swirls.
"What a week."
"You didn't really grow up near any water, did you?" David asks sympathetically. He asks the bartender for a caf and a tea, hopping up on one of the high chairs, settling into the anti-slip seating. "Because in my experience, you dry off faster without the wet clothes still on." David glances away briefly, resting an arm on the bar as he regards Dawn. "If it makes you feel better, I could look away, and you could borrow my jacket. I'm not looking for a cheap thrill, I promise."
"It isn't so much as that as I'm rather hopeless when it comes to physical endeavors," Dawn explains, lifting her head up from under her towel. "If you think this is bad, give me a blaster next time, or ask me to climb up a rope." Lips curl up with that rueful edge, words laden with her typical good humor. "Admittedly I'll probably have to do something about that just in case. I've always been part of the bridge, so I never had to worry about it before. I was always with my former CO. Now, though..."
With the tea arriving, eager fingers curl up around the mug as lips purse to blow lightly against the wisps of steam wafting up the ceramic object.
"I knew that, actually," she reassures him. "It's just that I wasn't about to strip without spare clothes around. I'm many things, but I'm most definitely not an exhibitionist." There's a grin at that, despite her glowing cheeks. "...you're a pilot, though. I thought you guys are all about the thrills?"
She isn't above teasing him regardless, though her grin tapers off to a more genuine smile and as always, her entire being gives itself completely into the act; the apples of her cheeks grow more prominent, and everything about her brightens. "Thanks, David," she tells him. "You're sweet, but I couldn't possibly-- "
And then she lets out a tiny sneeze.
"....I mean...if it's not too much trouble..." she continues, instead, accepting his offer on the jacket after all.
"I am a pilot!" David confirms with a grin, his fingers testing the mug of caf set by his hand. Too hot! His fingers pull back with a jerk. "Maybe I'm a bit of a thrillseeker.. but it's been a while. I think I've gotten too serious since getting put in charge of my own squadron." He looks a bit forlorn as he speaks. She calls him sweet, and he smiles at her, standing up briefly to shrug out of his jacket when she reconsiders. "Just don't fall in again, okay?" he extends his hand with the jacket, not being able to help himself not make fun of her a little.
"Ahhhh, I see," Dawn tells him, her head canting over at him and brows winging upwards towards her hairline. "So you grew up and you're not as fun as you used to be. I see how it is. It happens to all of us." That smooth, pale expression manages to hold, and he wouldn't be able to determine that she is simply joking were it not for those emerald irises gleaming with mischief. "All joking aside, that's probably a good thing anyway...there's no harm in enjoying what you do though."
A hand lifts, to take the jacket handed to her. Though his teasing earns him a laugh, and a light swat on his arm using his own jacket's sleeve. "Yeah yeah yeah," she mock-grouses. "Fall in /once/ and suddenly it's a habit. What should I do to reclaim your faith, Gold Leader? Should I wear an inflatable fanny pack from now on?"
She gives it as good as she gets it, unable to help herself as much as he does, but those dancing eyes never once carry a hint of offense. She waits until he does turn around, and she throws the large towel over herself so she can peel off her own jacket and shirt underneath, and pulls the thing over her shoulders, zipping it up over bare skin.
Once done, she's able to sit with him while resembling a normal person, though considering the difference in their sizes, the jacket is too big for her, and loose enough around the neck to expose the tender side of her throat and the pale frame of her collarbones.
David calmly faces away, gingerly testing his mug for temperature. "Is it safe, can I turn around yet?" He asks, a mild teasing to his tone. "The fanny pack, good idea! Does it inflate all the way around or just pull your waist up to the surface?" David indulges her silly idea with a grin. Finally, his caf cools off to the point he can drink it and only -sort of- burn the roof of his mouth, so he does. On both counts. He makes a pained face, a soft grunt and puts the caf down again. He waits for the LT to tell him it's fine to turn around again, tapping his fingers on the bar.
"You know what, good question. Suppose I'll have to test it, see if weight distributes evenly." She continues to play along, and in spite of being turned around, he'd hear the stirrings of laughter in her tone. "I mean, it's supposed to keep me from drowning and the last thing I need to do is have it tilt me into the water and drown me /anyway/ while it carries me upward."
She folds up the towel and sets it on the stool next to her. "Okay, I'm decent. ...I think. You can turn around now."
David turns around again to face Dawn. He smiles when he sees his jacket on the young lady. "Looks better on you than on me, doesn't it?" He -slowly- moves his hand to his mug again, keeping the smile when he realizes it's definitely cool enough to drink now. Almost cool enough to chug. He takes a sip, glancing at Dawn. "So what were you doing here in the first place?"
/Looks better on you than on me./
The fading glow on her cheeks returns, ever the expressive sort, and in spite of the state of her face, Dawn can't help but laugh. "I don't know," she says, easing her arms away from the counter and flapping them lightly; the pilot has longer arms as well. "You think if I do this fast enough, I'll be able to fly on my own?"
When asked, her smile turns somewhat sheepish. "Exploring. Rear Admiral Delede threw me into the work right away, I've been busy catching up on months of backlog, and then /someone/ decided to kidnap me in a magic starship ride to Nar Shaddaa in hopes of talking some sense into a retired, old, opportunistic gambler." She gives him an emphatic look, though the humor remains. "I haven't had a chance to get to know my new home, so here I am. Wasn't expecting a brick wall swimming when I came across this area." She takes a sip of her drink. "And there you were. If I didn't know any better, it's like you do this on purpose. Something embarrassing happens to me and you're just suddenly there. All you need now is a bag of snacks, claiming that you've been there an hour and the reason I didn't notice is that you're standing /so still/ you've become invisible."
David watches her flap around for a while, quiet but amused. Finally, he addresses it. "I.. don't think you'll fly like that. Shame, though." His eyes light up when she mentions the op to recruit Lando. "Magic starship ride, eh?" he asks, chuckling. "Did you head straight for the swimming pool, or were you in the gym before that?" He takes another sip of his caf. "I -wish- I had a bag of snacks just ready for a moment like that. I'd keep it handy for the tea or caf afterwards, then we'd both have something to eat as well."
"Oh, I don't work out. I just pretend I'll have the metabolism I have for the rest of my life," Dawn tells him with a cheeky grin, broad enough to push a dimple into visibility on her left cheek. "I did take a look at it though and nearly had an accident when I tried to lift a weight. ...don't ask me how heavy it was, I already embarrassed myself in front of you enough in the last two days."
But mention of something to eat has her grin widening. "Well, there's always the mess hall, with its various kinds of mystery meat and questionable vegetables," she tells him. "I think all I had was tea my first night here, while trying to pretend they're black bean noodles. Honestly that's probably half the reason I decided to explore the station today, see if there's decent places to eat. Or...delivery." She props her chin on one hand, giving him an angled look. "Caught on that I'm a bit of a tea slut, huh? And now you're thinking you should have a bag of popped corn or something so you can feed me after?"
Her expression turns downright /incorrigible/. "You really /are/ embracing this Gold Leader thing, aren't you? Looking out for your people."
David laughs at her calling herself a tea slut. "That doesn't fly unless you get different flavors every single time. Eventually you'll run out." He grins. "Why'd you think I like heading off station so much? For the pouring rain?" His grin only widens when she calls him Gold Leader again, standing up and posing with his fists on his hips. "Yeah, I'm a genuine man of the people."
"Ohhhh you'd be surprised," Dawn tells him gamely, eyes bright with mischief. "I have an entire /cache/ of tea in my bunk. I'd tell you the exact number, but if I did, you might be scandalized at what a loose tea woman I am at such a young age." For the pouring rain indeed, she laughs at the quip. "I suppose that's definitely an advantage of having your own ride, coming and going as you please. This might be a blessing in disguise for me, not being able to do that - I'd just eat my weight in cheesy nerfburgers and since I already said I don't work out, I'll just get fat. Won't be able to fit in these leggings anymore if I treated the galaxy as my own gourmet oyster."
His playful pose culls another laugh from her, lifting her hands, pantomiming a gesture of taking a picture of him looking like that. "All you need is a cape blowing dramatically behind you. Maybe Calrissian will loan you one. So where do you usually go when you go off base? Outside of assignments anyway."
"What if we did, though?" Dave asks, lowering his arms. "What if we took my ship, went to whichever planets we choose, and had dinner there? And if the planets are famous for their lunch meals, we'll go early!" He grins, looking up at the vastness of space right outside the viewport, clearly already picturing it. "Dave and Dawn Do Dinner. I can see it now, we'll be the culinary sensation on the Holonet. And on the Renegade, I guess."
Those evergreen eyes widen at the proposal, and she can't help what follows. Dawn tilts her head back and /laughs/. "I don't know how we got here, but I'm game," she tells him, sweeping her hand towards the view of the stars surrounding them. "No dish left uneaten, no source of protein left unpunished! It'll be the culinary holo-blog that'll make and break high class restaurants and humble eateries everywhere!"
The younger Antilles takes another sip of her tea, and her face brightens further. "We could make it /so/ gimmicky. We'd have to take on disguises if we dare eat at areas controlled by the Order. Use the corniest aliases - Dirk Hardpec and Anna Sassin! Beef Wellington and Lacey Tatas! Stars, the people who know us will never take us seriously ever again. It'd be fun though."
Now it's Dave's turn to laugh. "Lacey Tatas! I might've known someone going by that name, actually." The Naboo-born pilot has to wipe his face on his sleeve to keep tears from streaking down his face. "Lacey Tatas, professional tea slut!" He slowly stops laughing, able to form coherent sentences again. "It'd be great not to be taken seriously, you know? Everything's always Lieutenant this, Lieutenant that. I think we should at -least- have dinner on some far off planet. Just the once. No blogging." He winks.
She chokes in the middle of sipping her tea, pushing the mug away to brush her knuckles over her mouth. "What? You're kidding! /Really/? It has to be a stage name of some kind, there's no way!" Dawn leans over, burying her face into her palm. "That poor girl. Could you imagine the kind of life she's led until now, introducing herself to a new person only for said new person to look at her sideways? Stars, if I had a name like that I'd probably change it immediately."
But seeing David break out in stitches the way he does earns him a smile, and a tilt of her head, keen eyes gauging the nuances of his expression as he gives himself over to laughter. The work hasn't prevented him from indulging her own forays into the ridiculous, but she can't help but wonder how long it has been for him that he seizes opportunities like this whenever he can, lending more veracity to his earlier statements about having to develop into a more responsible person after his promotion.
"I don't think anyone would begrudge you to cut loose now and then," she tells him. "I mean, the job's stressful enough as it is, I'm sure even those at the top have their ways of depressurizing the valve and releasing some steam."
The dinner invitation has her perking up - the prospect of getting /away/ from the books sparks that fetterless imagination. She has spent most of her career on a ship. "Sure, but you /certain/ about the no-blogging?" she wonders. "I mean, you're pretty photogenic. You could have fans from all over, spanning across genders and /not/ just scantily clad women willing to dance for you. Who knows, you might end up meeting the future Mrs. Ironside from the bevy of women hungrily following your culinary exploits."
David smiles when Dawn perks up, enjoying the way their conversation goes from lighthearted to serious, then back around again to lighthearted. The mention of a future Mrs. Ironside comes right when he sips his caf, and he has to -immediately- turn his head to spit it all out over the floor again. "Heh. Wow.. future Mrs. Ironside, huh? Who says I haven't already met her?" David grins, challenging Dawn to say something. "Or that I don't already have a bevy of women following my exploits." Pure bluff, that. Wait, did she say he's photogenic? David runs a hand through his hair, fixing his side-part even if he has no idea whether it needs fixing. "How about you, the future Mr. Antilles. Or whatever his name will be."
"Oh, so you've /met/ the future Mrs. Ironside," Dawn remarks gleefully, clapping her hands together. "Proof positive that even in these war-torn times, Love, True Love, can blossom and flourish among the unsuspecting! Don't worry, Dave." All this said with such intense seriousness that the follow up is /bound/ to be a joke, and the young Antilles doesn't disappoint: "I won't tell General Organa you intend to propose."
But he's right about the bevy of women following his exploits. There's another laugh. "Well, that's honestly a little more believable," she tells him ruefully. "This kind of lifestyle opens a lot of people up to it. A man or woman in every port. I knew this guy back in my old outfit who had /both/, and the stories he would come back with after every shore leave. I mean, I /could/ live an entirely happy life without hearing about his exploits in a leopard-print thong and streaked with Zeltron body glitter, but I mean..."
/How about you?/
She flashes him a sheepish grin, glancing down at her tea. "Honestly, for all I know, I could've met him already and just had absolutely no idea. I don't tend to notice that kind of thing often. E's more right than he knows whenever he calls me 'schoolgirl'. I was always at the library back in my academy days, and once out of it, I was always by my former CO and his adjutant." Lifting her head, she winks at him. "Too many hours spent trying to figure out how to win against impossible odds, and not enough....uh....toga parties and stuff to meet any potential Mr. Antilleses."
David grins. "So no leopard-print thongs." He holds his hand up, pretending to strike something off a list on his palm. "No body-glitter.. or was that specifically Zeltron body-glitter?" He flashes Dawn a smile and a wink. "Maybe we'll go to Naboo. I'll take you to the finest restaurant in Theed. But after.." He pauses. "After we free the system from the First Order. You deserve the full experience as I recall it, without the pristine white patrols." He shrugs. "At least, that's how I think it is now. The same routes formerly patrolled by my friends and neighbors, now taken by Stormtroopers." He stops, before he gets -too- depressing. "And.. no toga-parties. Or was that a suggestion, Antilles?" He holds his hand up again, ready to strike something off the imaginary list, but he's looking over at her, waiting.
She has been to Naboo before, briefly, her mind taken up with hazy recollections of a family vacation in a time when peace had finally fallen in the Galaxy - or so they thought. But a glimpse of David's past has her pausing from her lighthearted interactions with him for the time being, eyes hungry for human connection falling on his well-formed profile next to her. She knew that, actually - most of the active roster's files are in her datapad, but it is a different experience entirely hearing it directly from the source. "I heard the Queen was killed a few months ago," she says quietly, a hand reaching out before she could stop herself, to rest light fingertips over his shoulder. "I can wait until then." Spoken as if a hammered-out promise, and not the byproduct of their jovial banter just moments before. A reassuring smile tilts the corners of her mouth upwards: "Whatever it takes, right?"
Swinging back to the mention of toga parties, Dawn laughs. "I've never /been/ to one, so I don't know! A studious girl like me didn't do much partying even back in the academy. Who knows, maybe I'll have fun dancing around spastically in nothing but a blanket."
David nods. "It was after Crait. We had been reduced to a single base on Nar Shaddaa. Hound Base. Hidden in the lower levels." He pauses briefly to drink his caf, noticing it's gone cold. He shrugs, and continues. "We went to Naboo for aid, we had hopes of establishing a base on a quiet planet, nobody would think to look for us on a notoriously peaceful world. The Queen shot us down, originally." David manages a soft smile at the memory. "Had to look out for her people. She was right, of course." He clears his throat with a cough. "So, a while later, the First Order had found Hound Base. We were adrift in space, all that was left of the Resistance on a few freighters. Mine included, you might've seen the medbay on the Guarlara. I had most of the medical staff on board, and the wounded they were treating. Anyway. We're out there, at a rendezvous point over Endor, and this huge frigate jumps out of hyperspace. The Renegade. Delivered by Rogue Squadron." He gives her a grin. "Your uncle Wedge, too. And on board, a full squadron of Naboo N-1 starfighters. Before we even got good and settled, the First Order had invaded Naboo and murdered the queen. They say it was Kylo Ren himself who did it."
When Dawn touches him, Dave visibly relaxes. "You mean you're not having fun in a blanket and a jacket right now?" he replies with a grin. "Maybe for the full experience I should ask for my jacket back?"
The story about the Renegade's bequeathment to the Resistance and the Queen's death is digested with the quiet, intense scrutiny of the young woman next to him; a consummate academic, and an avid consumer of information. There are files, certainly, that include all the classified details such an operation would entail, but the experience is noted, too, delivered by a man who had actually been there. Nothing passes her by, every tic in his expression remembered and while his own feelings on the matter are largely obfuscated by his shrug, the smile when he remembers the queen is there, held in quiet affection by a planet's faithful son.
"Well," she says, simply. "He'll get his." Regarding Kylo Ren. Taking another sip of her tea, she sighs. "I hope so, anyway."
The sudden walk-back about his jacket has her looking up at David with a start, and she playfully shrinks back away from him, arms coming around her to hug his too-large jacket against her person. "Well, not right now!" Dawn protests with a laugh. "I don't know how /thrilling/ it's going to be seeing what's underneath anyway. You're just gonna have to submit yourself to the fact that your precious jacket is going to smell like a girl for a couple of days!"
David smiles at Dawn. "He'll get his." he echoes before finally finishing his caf. "The jacket will not mind." he says, intentionally not using contractions in his words. "Plus, I could always grab another one." Does this man have a whole closet full of leather jackets? "I don't know about you.. but I'm -real- hungry. Are you dry enough for a change of clothes and a meal?"
"I'm starting to picture your closet looking very much like what Calrissian's might," Dawn remarks with a laugh. "Instead of a collection of capes, just full of leather jackets." But the confession about his present state of hunger has her glancing down. "I think so," she says, pushing the remains of her tea away and gingerly standing up from the stool. "I can stop by my bunk real quick - and this way you don't have to go jacketless."
She is true to her word, at least - once they get to her quarters, she ducks in for a quick change, and once she resurfaces, she hands his jacket back to him, neatly folded. She remains out of uniform - another pair of black leggings and a red sleeveless turtleneck, and she brings her /own/ jacket for this humble, but necessary quest for sustenance. Dawn doesn't bother drying her hair, left in its bind, the dark-brown strands left loose from it clings to her cheeks, sideswept bangs half-obscuring one crystal-green eye.
"No mystery meat, right?" she asks him as light steps follow him to wherever they need to go. "Or vegetables? Or...anything...? I mean, don't get me wrong, I /love/ a good mystery, but I prefer to actually recognize what I'm eating. I heard horror stories back in Nar Shaddaa about what they /actually/ put in the stuffed mussels in the Gold Saucer and...yeah. We shouldn't talk about it before we eat."
David laughs, pushing himself off the wall he'd been leaning against. "Dawn, Dawn.." he starts, approaching her until he's able to whisper in her ear. "How about nerf burgers and fries?" He grins, backing off before she can swat at him. If she was even planning to. "Maybe a drink after?" He pauses to consider that, then adds, "A drink made for humans? This time?" He grins, leading her away from her quarters and to the food.