La même histoire

"On vit au jour le jour Nos envies, nos amours On s’en va sans savoir On est toujours Dans la même histoire."

[calypso-felix]

  Was? [He’s disoriented, and it takes him a moment to realize who is speaking, despite the fact they have chosen to sit across from each other. Le hérisson, understandably prickly, without a doubt.] 

Oh. [He puts out his cigarette; what a foolhardy habit, he knows, but the stress calls for it.] No, no. Believe me, mademoiselle, I already have. It’s just a matter of waiting. 

How have you fared? 

[calypso-ariel]

[ She wonders at first if he's stupid, for forgetting her presence. But then it occurs to her that he may simply be trying to fray her nerves. Typical. ]

[ His action is not mimicked. She takes a long drawl of her own cigarette, if only to mock him in a subtle way. ] Then there is nothing you may do about it now, and pining over your stress will only worsen your state. [ What is this? Friendly advice? Not a chance. She's merely falling into her nurse ways. ]

I should be lying if I said I was fine. Recent events have put me on edge, I fear. [ She pauses. ] And how have you been?

[calypso-felix]

You may call it arbitrary, but I feel as if something terrible is happening aboard as we speak. 

[calypso-ariel]

Perhaps you should tell someone of this fear -- someone like our capitaine.

[calypso-porter]

  [While it is her duty to reprimand Ariel, the last words make her stomach churn, because what if that was not all that happened.

Goddamn instincts slapping Don right in her face.]

I know he’s rude. Trust me, I have had to supress the urge to slam his face into the wall everytime I see him. Your actions were not the most appropiate, [to say the very least.]

But what exactly happened?

[calypso-ariel]

Perhaps you should have. He deserves to be knocked down every once in a while.

[ The captain's anxiety is understood. After all, it is her ship that is under terse inspection and any normal person would react in such a way. 

But she can't help but feel as though there's more to Captain Porter's skittish behavior than she's letting on. ]

I have already told you. He came in as I was smoking, he was rude, I was rude. That was where it ended. Do you expect anything more? 

[calypso-mhai]

Aw, but I wanted to know.

Anyway, thank you. I commend you on your…bravery, [if it can be called that. Mhai finds the entire thing amusing —although, lately, she has been wanting to push the Admiral off the stairs. Funny. She didn’t care before.]

You doing okay, I trust?

[calypso-ariel]

You are too curious for your own good. 

Bravery? I merely said what everyone was thinking. [ It was more of act of  recklessness than one of courage, she thought, as it had landed her -- and the entirety of the crew -- in a very bad place. But, Ariel was never one to admit such worries and so she would play it off nonchalantly. ]

Of course. It takes more than whiny, fat men to bring me down.

[calypso-felix]

  Non, non, non, il n’est pas trop tard. [He wipes some of the sweat from his brow and sighs.]

Mademoiselle, I need you to tell me everything about what happened between you and the Admiral Monday. From the beginning. I cannot promise you patient confidentiality, but I can promise you my counsel, and a swift end to this with the right information. 

[calypso-ariel]

Oui, je crois qu'il est. [ She is disturbingly calm as she regards him, blinking languidly at his state of dishevelment. ]

Everything? Mon Dieu, you speak as if he had assaulted me. There was nothing grand that happened between the Admiral and I. He was bad company, that Admiral Tuesday or whatever his name is. He was rude and imposing and attempted to glorify his state of power. Naturally, being who I am, I reacted in a less than kind way. Though I realize that I might have been rude, I believe his overall actions to be unnecessary and childish. He is like a little boy.

[calypso-porter]

[Don rubs at the bridge of her nose, before she takes a deep breath, and looks at her straight in the eye.] 

You gonna tell me what happened girl. Cause I need to hear it from you. 

[calypso-ariel]

[ There's an enforced casualty she imposes upon herself; a relaxed stance and lackluster expression to mask the anxiety that buzzed unpleasantly around her bones. ]

He was rude --

and in turn, so was I. Truly, that was all that occurred between the Admiral and I. 

[calypso-mhai]

  You know, I don’t think I understood much.

But I agree on the pig part. 

[calypso-ariel]

It is best that I was not understood anyway. Some connards could have heard me and we would have been dealt a far worse. 

But I must commend you on your hearing skills. I thought I spoke fairly quietly.

[calypso-porter]

…You are motherfucking kidding me. 

[calypso-ariel]

[ Le whoops. ] 

Non, I do not believe this is a joke, Capitaine. If it is, it is a very poor one.

[calypso-felix]

Verdammt.

We’re so close. 

[calypso-ariel]

We were. 

[calypso-ariel]

Je dis que nous lançons le porc dans l'espace ouvert et le faire apparaître comme un accident.

[ She spoke in all seriousness; not a hint of amusement or jest flickering in the dead eyed gaze. ]

[calypso-ariel]

Mais il est malsain pour vous pousser, surtout si vous n’aimez pas votre travail. Pourquoi choisissez-vous de vous pousser? Pour vous, oui?

[Now he knew he was reaching, a little.] Mais avez-vous vraiment profiter de ce que vous produisez? Quelle partie de votre travail acharné a porté ses fruits?

[He shook his head and smiled.] This is silly. I am, er, waxing philosophically. Anyway, I know it is not in your nature, Mademoiselle, to keep your head down, but it would be best if you did. It would be a shame to see you go over as much as a bad habit.

I’d rather not vouch for you, but if you don’t take my advice, I will. There are plenty of psychiatric explanations for tobacco consumption.

Il n'y a rien de mal à pousser. C'est un défi et je surmonter. Ce n'est pas "malsain".

[ She huffed now, clearly growing irate. Her brow dipped deeply and her cheeks pulled down in a frown. She didn't appreciate him psycho-analyzing her, and yet she continues answering him, as opposed to merely shutting him down entirely.] 

Bien sûr que je fais. J'aime mon travail. Tout ce que j'ai jamais fait a été pour mon travail. 

[ Her eyes narrowed and her jaw tautened. ]  You do not know anything of my nature, Monsieur, please do not pretend as if you do. [ Ire unfurled in her chest like hot coils as she regarded him now, a firework with a short fuse. She never liked people assuming things about her -- regardless if they were right or not. It bothered her. It made her feel as if they had an upper hand on her. ] 

I do not require your help, even if I were to find myself in trouble. I am highly capable of looking after myself, thank you. 

[calypso-alan-blog]

He listened to her prattle on with a stone-cold look on his face; he only coughed once when the smoke from her cigarette twirled right into his face. Truth be told, writing a crew member off for smoking (especially during one of their breaks) didn’t carry much weight anymore—it was seen as less harmful than it was “charmingly old-fashioned,” and, besides, he knew hardly anyone who smoked regularly.

Writing someone off for a “disrespectful” and “flippant” attitude, however, was another matter entirely. I can see the stacks of accusatory paperwork before me as if they were here right now.

Once he found a stopping point in her little tirade, he began speaking, slowly but surely: “Well, you’ve got a point: a little nicotine never hurt anybody. I shouldn’t have been so…presumptuous.” He smiled, trying to mask the stings of rage he felt crawling up the back of his neck; against angry little warriors like her, composure was the strongest weapon in his artillery.

"You know, Ariel"—the rolled "r" did give him a little more bravado, he had to admit—"a little respect never hurt anyone either."

[calypso-ariel]

There was a sort of ill satisfaction she obtained upon viewing the Admiral's lack of amusement. An even sicker glee sparked in her chest when he cough -- though it was short lived when he wasn't set into a fit. She knew her actions were bold and reckless. Uncaring and perhaps borderline mad, but Ariel was never one to give under such oppression. She wouldn't willingly fall to the feet of anyone -- man, woman, child, human or not. 

Besides, she figured the Admiral was nothing but talk. Bark and no bite. Nothing but a little man (little in a metaphorical sense; in a literal sense, he was a giant compared to her) hiding behind his sharp words and chilling smiles. She was unaffected by such things. Neutral to their onslaught and attempt at intimidation. If anything, she found such behavior pathetic and piteous. 

"Non. You shouldn't have." She stated it simply. Monotonously. Clipping, even, in its plainness. Though she tried to maintain a mask of indifference, she couldn't help but allow her brow to furrow at his smile. There was something wholly not right -- maybe even unhinged -- in the way he smiled. It reminded her of a snake and a slimy feeling crawled the length of spine and settled in her gut upon viewing it.

"You know, Admiral," her tone was nothing short of mocking, teetering dangerously on the edge. "Respect, even a little bit of it, must be earned. It is not a right you have automatically." 

[calypso-alan-blog]

He should have realized what was going on here the moment the smell of tar had washed over him—it definitely wasn’t an unfamiliar smell to him, but it wasn’t one he’d expected to find on this ship. He found himself more dumbfounded than cross, but then he felt a small twinge of anger bite at him the moment he realized that he, too, could have sneaked in a couple cigarettes and no one would have noticed.

He stood before the vaguely familiar woman, his arms folded behind his back, his eyes flicking over her for a moment as he struggled to remember her name—Arielle? Ariel?—and how important he’d deemed her to the ship’s functionality. When she exhaled, surrounding them both in a cloud of loose smoke, he held up one hand and swatted some of the smoke out of his face, looking somewhat irritated.

She was curt with him, a trait which he admired—no, he despised. It showed nothing but a lack of respect. The disdainful look in her eyes did nothing to soothe his already growing irritation. He wasn’t quite sure how to respond to it, when, suddenly, he remembered what her occupation was.

He had a feeling he could gain some leverage over her. (That made him feel a little better.)

"I see. You know, Ms. Arielle—right? Arielle?—that’s a rather interesting habit for a nurse to have,” he said, taking a step forward as casually as possible then leaning towards her only very slightly. “You do realize I can write you up for smoking, don’t you?”

[calypso-ariel]

First, he disturbs her peace and quiet and then he has the gull, the nerve to call her Arielle? Bon Dieu! May the Lord give her the strength to not bite his head off or cast him into open space -- both of which, sounded like incredibly sound ideas. 

"Je m'appelle --" She had to physically stop herself, teeth clamping down on her bottom lip for only a moment. Her tone was less than cordial, edging heavily towards a more negative side of the spectrum. "My name is Ariel. You must roll your r. And I would prefer if you did not address me so informally, you and I are not acquainted, Monsieur Admiral." She smiled up at him with all the false geniality she could muster, taking in another breathe of tobacco before releasing it -- intentionally or not, it was unable to be discerned -- quite defiantly in a nice ploom onto his face. 

"I am French. It is a French thing to do. You will not take away my culture, even though you are of higher status will you? That would be very -- ah -- rude." A pert brow poised itself expectedly and a haughty look reached her features though it was soon to turn into something more threatening. "Ah, and why should you do that? I am harming no one. The air filters," with this she gestured loftily, the cigarette almost waving around in his face as if it were a taunt. "They are fine. They will filter out the smoke. "Besides," she then finished off the remainder of the cigarette, moving to dispose of it in a near-by trash bin. "An Admiral should not be so frivolous. It is not a respectable trait, vous savez."

Again came the smile, ever so sharp and ever so fake. She had been in his company for all of a few minutes, if not a few moments, and she already did not care for him. There was an unimpressed way in which she regarded him now. Despite title and formal stance and supposedly intimidating demeanor, all she saw was a child. A bratty, arrogant child who needed to be put in his place. 

[calypso-felix]

  Qu’est-ce qui vous fait penser qu’il est bon d’être stressé? 

[Then again, it probably wasn’t time to project his philosophy, especially in…trying times, speculative or not.] Kapitän Porter can handle herself. I have seen it before, and would not worry. 

You won’t look his way, but he might. [Felix wrinkled his nose, trying to find what would be helpful against what would get on her nerves.] If he does, I would suggest you stow away your cigarettes, Fräulein. 

[calypso-ariel]

Si vous êtes stressé, vous travaillez mieux. Vous êtes plus efficace. Mais si vous êtes paresseux, vous n'êtes pas efficace.

[ Not everyone overworks themselves as much as she, but they should. At least she believes they should, else wise they don't exactly deserve their places on the ship, capability or not. Ability can only go so far, but work will always pay off.]

If he looks my way, then I will prendre ses yeux. [There's almost a hint of a smile there but it's gone as quickly as it comes.] I am only kidding, of course, but if he attempts to take my cigarettes there will be -- ah -- problems. 

[thats-fucking-spectacular]

[calypso-alan-blog]

The first thing Alan noticed was how neat everything was. The glass on the walls was free of fingerprints; none of the lights that lined the hallways he walked down had burned out yet. It felt somewhat rewarding to see how nice everything looked, how decidedly well everything was going. At least I can give them a bonus for aesthetics, he’d mused.

He hadn’t expected much from this ragtag bunch at first, actually. Being the diligent (rather, careful) man he was, he’d read reports on every single one of them and had found himself routinely unimpressed. They were all young, many fresh out of the Academy. Although he sympathized mildly with their plight—he had, of course, been in their position once—he had sincerely doubted that any of them would possess the smarts or even the basic competence to run a ship as glorious as the USS Calypso.

And, yet, here he was, in the middle of deep space yet still standing on his own two feet. As he walked up and down tight hallways and inspected plaques nailed on sliding doors, he found himself feeling pretty confident about his surroundings. He was an admiral, after all, and an admiral with as impressive of a track record as his deserved to have to board only the finest of ships.

When he strode into an unfamiliar room and saw someone standing there, he felt something inside him twist. His least favorite part of this job had always been “getting to know” the crewmen—those he considered miles below him, figuratively speaking.

Nevertheless, he cleared his throat and advanced towards the person before him, adopting his most regal posture—a personal standard. “Hello. Have we met before?”

[calypso-ariel]

With the way everyone was acting, one would assume a person of great importance was in their midst. 

The crew skittered around, stiff-backed and tight-lipped. Much more cordial and refined as she had ever seen them before. Why, last week she was certain they were all fornicating like dogs -- and now? Now they were acting as if they had never done a wrongful act in all their lives. In all honesty, she thought it pathetic. Why should they try and act all right and proper? Yes, she understood the man boarding their ship was an Admiral. But was everything really necessary? 

Ariel had taken to an empty rec room far, far away from the ruckus and chaos, tucked away between the metal graters and slow churning engines. It was solitary -- quiet, and that was how she much preferred things. There was nothing for her to do in the Medbay, anyway, as everyone made sure to appear unscathed and as healthy as a peach (that was the proper expression, right? Peu importe. It didn't matter to her.) so she was left with little to nothing to do -- except smoke. 

Ah, what a horribly sweet vice it was, too. Deceptive, in a way in which it calmed and soothed her, when she knew well it was doing nothing but tarnishing her from the inside out. Ah, well. It was a vice well worth the pain it should bring her later on.

She had been in a trance, of sorts, lazily dallying through her thoughts as she gazed no where in particular. It was not often that she was given the chance to simply do nothing and a small part of her reveled in it. Every so often she would take in and exhale a small cloud of tobacco, but other than that, it was as if she were a statue.

That was, until, there came the ever family sound of a door swishing open. On instinct her eyes rolled; her peace was disturbed and a small spike of annoyance unfurled in her chest. A dismissive comment was ready to clip off the tip of her tongue (in her funny accent, no less, which would probably make her less threatening than she wished) when she turned and --

Juste sa chance.

It would have been the man they were all practically ordered to impress. There was a long drawling blink of her eye as she inhaled on her cigarette. "Bonjour." She finally replied, leisurely blowing out the smoke but never taking her eyes off the Admiral before her; though her eyes did seem to dull and droop marginally -- disinterest and distaste clear in their depths. "Ah -- non. I do not believe we have. I cannot see how we would have, either, as you are not part of this crew and I do not generally associate with people not of this crew, unless it is my family -- which you are also not apart of." 

[optimus-prime-rib]

Hotness of the day: Mélanie Laurent