(no subject)

[mr_gaeta]

The front door clanks open, sounding for an instant like it's much heavier (and much more metallic) than it appears. It's not very different from how it opened the last time Gaeta came to Milliways.

What is different, though: he's dressed in a full set of Fleet duty blues, lieutenant rank insignia pinned firmly to his collar and junior flight wings attached to his jacket.

(A second difference, if not as pointed a one: it was pretty rare he ever smiled like this while he was on New Caprica.)

Easing the door shut behind him, Gaeta glances around, lets out a long breath, and makes his way toward a free table.



[OOC: Mun is heading to bed, but this post is open until it scrolls!]

Comments

[wheatencrown]

Demeter looks up from her glass of wine and spots Gaeta and then his smile. Her own smile grows as she stands up and walks over to him,

"I don't believe that I've ever seen you smile so. It suits you wonderfully."

[mr_gaeta]

He turns as soon as he hears her voice; for a moment, the smile grows to an outright grin.

"I thought the outfit wasn't that bad either myself," he quips, spreading his arms.

[wheatencrown]

She reaches out to slightly straighten his uniform, not that it needs it and kisses him on the cheek,

"You look like yourself in a way I've never seen you look before."

[mr_gaeta]

"It has been a while," he agrees, tucking his hands behind his back to stand at parade rest. A touch of flustered uncertainty drifts through his posture, completely unintentionally, as she fusses over him.

(The last time anyone did that was six years ago, right before his graduation.)

"I'm still, ah, settling back in."

[wheatencrown]

"Tell me everything. I've never known where to start with any sort of military. When did you last eat?"

Demeter keeps beaming at him, he looks sure of of himself and its wonderful.

[mr_gaeta]

"A few hours ago. I have been eating," he says, in a gentler and more rueful cousin of the tone perfected by adolescents everywhere: yes, I've cleaned my room; yes, I've done my homework.

"Where should I start, um. Well, it's...obviously it's a newer development, and obviously I'm not just a contractor anymore."

To be honest, Gaeta isn't sure where to start, either.

(Or how much he should tell.)

[wheatencrown]

The Bar is currently colder than Demeter's home so she pulls him over to the couch and tucks her feet under her,

"Of course not. Are you doing what you did before or something different? Maybe you should start with when you left New Caprica."

[simon_doctor]

There's a doctor at a nearby table, drinking coffee (laced with a very little whiskey) and studying his datareader.

He hasn't noticed Gaeta's entrance yet.

[mr_gaeta]

Gaeta's about to settle in at a different table when he spots Simon. Changing his mind, he beckons to a waitrat and quickly places an order for some (whiskey-free) coffee of his own.

As soon as it returns with his order, he heads toward Simon's table -- carefully, with the deference of someone well aware he might be interrupting.

"Simon?"

[simon_doctor]

He glances up, and blinks, and smiles a little uncertainly. "Felix. Wan an."

[mr_gaeta]

"Hey."

Gaeta sketches a gesture toward Simon's datapad; he adds, quickly, "I didn't mean to bother you, I just, ah, wanted to say hello."

[simon_doctor]

"No, please," he says and gestures toward the other chair, "have a seat. I'm due a break anyway."

[mr_gaeta]

Gaeta relaxes into a smile as quick as the earlier addendum. "All right -- thank you," he says, unconsciously adding a little more weight than is perhaps needed.

(There's no perhaps about it. It's Simon, for frak's sake.)

"What is it you're working on?" he asks as he slides into the proffered chair and sets down his mug.

[simon_doctor]

If Simon catches the unconscious emphasis, he doesn't comment.

"Some personnel files for work," he says. "They're sending me on a business trip soon to evaluate a few potential new hires. Among other things."

[hawkeyed_riza]

[OOC: Pretty sure you're in bed by now, but: :D?]

Those duty blues aren't Amestrian -- the cut's wrong, the color's off, and the rank insignia's not on the shoulder-tabs where it should be -- but there's a certain similarity to military uniforms the world over. It catches her eye.

Hawkeye is, for once, not in blues herself. She thought she was heading out to take her dog for his evening walk, and you don't wear your uniform at home; that's part of what off-duty means, and what respect for the uniform means. (She wishes she were, a little -- being in Milliways has not stopped feeling like being in a danger zone yet, even though nothing's happened, and it feels more appropriate to be in duty dress for that -- but at least she's still got a gun.)

The man gets a glance that's on the calm side of interested. She'll wait to see if he's looking sociable before she greets him, though.

Hawkeye is friendly; outgoing, not as much.

[mr_gaeta]

Gaeta, by then, has settled in at a table with both hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. (He's contemplating a cigarette, but realizing that he left the current pack he's working through in his rack.

(One thing he does miss about civvies: they actually have pockets.)

He catches sight of the woman, and of the glance she's giving him; he offers a nod in reply.

[hawkeyed_riza]

Hawkeye returns it, the slight polite gesture of one stranger to another. (It must be said that even in a skirt and flats, there's something military in that impeccably straight-backed posture. Even though Hawkeye did have good posture before the military academy and parade grounds finished the job.)

She turns her steps towards his table -- not necessarily to join him, of course. One nod is hardly enough welcome for that. But standing by the door indefinitely feels both silly and conspicuous, and Hayate is making quiet let's-go-outside-boss whines; there's no reason to not carefully investigate the outside, and no reason she can't let her path carry her near the other soldier's table while she does.

(And if it makes her shoulders prickle to walk across the crowded room in this bizarre place -- it's only mild, easily ignored, and the wariness only barely shows.)

[mr_gaeta]

The military posture becomes all the more apparent when she starts walking; it snags Gaeta's attention a second time, and much more thoroughly than the first.

Whether she's ex-military or merely off-duty, he can't decide. Possibly the latter. Or, if it's the former, she must have very recently left the service.

Don't worry, it'll buff out soon enough, remarks a surprisingly bitter thought, and, startled by it, Gaeta shoves it down and away.

"Evening," he offers as she passes by his table.

[hawkeyed_riza]

"Evening," she answers readily, pausing.

Hayate halts with her, and cocks his head with doggy interest at Gaeta. Hello new human! Do you want to pet him? Do you have interesting smells?? (He doesn't approach, because he's well-trained and Hawkeye hasn't told him to stop heeling. But he's interested!)

[mr_gaeta]

If wool, metal, coffee, and cigarette smoke count as interesting, then yes! Yes, he does have interesting smells!

...if not, then Hayate is out of luck.

As a consolation prize, though, Gaeta does start to offer his hand to him, after a quick inquiring look of may I? directed to Riza.

[hawkeyed_riza]

All of these things count! And so, to be honest, does NEW HUMAN. HI NEW HUMAN.

...Hayate likes people, as long as they aren't shooting at his humans.

Hawkeye nods, with a very faint smile. "He's friendly," she says. And, to her dog, "Okay, Hayate.

Thus released, he trots happily forward. He's a small dog, and well-behaved enough to not try jumping up or anything, but he'll be very glad for all the ear-scritches he can cajole.

[nomorekaraoke]

Danger! Danger! Incoming hot stuff at two o'clock!

...which is to say Lorne really is a fan of uniforms.



...which is to say, again, that there's a green fellow watching a certain human very closely indeed. In fact, he gets a raised glass, should he look this way.

[mr_gaeta]

It's not deliberate when he does. It's just one of those idle passes around the bar after he's taken a seat with his coffee, absorbing the scenery, keeping watch on his surroundings.

Gaeta stops. Blinks.

And, mildly puzzled (and after the familiar, chiding mental iteration of you've seen stranger), he raises his mug in turn as a silent hello.

[nomorekaraoke]

Having toasted each other, Lorne takes a small sip of his hot pink drink, lowering his eyes in a way that might seem demure but is in fact nothing of the sort.

It's the kind of averting your eyes that you do when you're weighing your options.

Lorne's done weighing. Might as well trot the trot on over and introduce himself properly.

"Hi. Hope you don't think I'm taking too many liberties." He holds out his hand for a shake (it's big and green - what's not to love?). "I'm Lorne."

[mr_gaeta]

"No, it's, ah...you're not. It's fine."

If, perhaps, a little bit like being the metaphorical deer in the headlights, too bewildered to be anything other than unfailingly polite.

(...Not that Gaeta is anything other than unfailingly polite ninety-nine percent of the time.)

He clasps Lorne's hand in a firm, practiced shake. "Lieutenant Felix Gaeta. It's a pleasure."