On the other side of the room the game of Katlet and Rodent was being played.
His name was Brandell, a pilot formerly of the GALACTICA. Wilda had made a special effort yo look up his military history. There wasn’t a lot. He seemed to be quite reserved about his past, but she did find one useful piece of information – he only noticed women who could match him, whether it be drinking, sports or flying. Quite the egotist in every sense of the word.
She seated herself in an empty chair across the table from him and put her elbow on the table, hand in the air. A silent challenge.
He was reclining in the chair, rather sprawled was a more accurate term. Smiling over the brim of his mug she just shook his head.
“Go back to the kitchen, little girl. Arm wrestling is a man’s game.”
“What’s wrong. Afraid you’ll lose?”
“I wouldn’t want to hurt someone as delicate as you. I’d hate to make you cry.”
The copper haired woman grinned.
“You know I was going to say the same about you. The other Colonies know how squishy soft you Capricans are. All those fine beds and all that rich, fattening food. You’ve had it pretty good on board the Galactica the past few months shadowing the ATLANTIA around, catering to President Adar’s every whim. Party after party your commander was invited to, and his crew didn’t lack for refreshments from what I hear.”
“Well you heard wrong, little girl.”
“Oh really? So your Strike Commander didn’t rotate the squadrons out for a little R&R after the initial announcement about the armistice was announced? You didn’t have a little celebration dance with Commander Adama’s daughter at the President’s reception party on the way to Cimtar? Oh. I suppose that wasn’t you who participated in that high stakes Pyramid game on the Atlantia where you got your pants beaten off of you by those Gemons?”
Wilda smiled. “Oh, I hear things. I hear many things. Interesting and embarrassing things about what goes on in storage rooms off of the President’s private quarters between his daughter who is also a squadron leader and a certain Warrior…”
Brandell’s grin disappeared and a hard, suspicious look narrowed his dark eyes.
“Where did you get that information?”
He cast a death glare at his friends seated around the table, all of whom looked serious and shook their heads to let him know not one of them had said a word.
“Like I said. I hear things.”
“That wrong hearing can get you into a whole lot of trouble. Besides, it’s not like you can just message her and ask, now can you?”
Wilda sat back in her chair. This was going to be easier than she thought.
“No,” she admitted. “She’s dead along with her father and her shipmates. Too bad, I hear she was worth three of you. And you know something. Come to think of it. You ARE right. I don’t really want to play this game with you after all. You’d throw the game just to let some little girl win, and then you send me away with a smack on my rear while you bragged to your cronies about how magnanimous you were being by throwing me a bone so to speak.”
She rose from her chair. “Congratulations. You’ve just become boring. I’m off to hunt bigger game. Thanks for reminding me just what big losers you Capricans are after all.”
She shoots. She scores! Wilda gave the men at the table a strut of her hips as she started to walk away.
“Wait!”
A leasurely look back over her shoulder revealed that the man had now sat up straight in his chair.
“Ok. One game. After that you go to the food prep and get me a sandwich. I’ll be hungry.”
“Oh joy!” she exclaimed melodramatically.
Reclaiming her seat she asked “Can we play by Sagittaran rules?”
“What does that mean?” one of Brandell’s friends asked. Another nudged him and grinned.
“Stupid, it means when she loses they… you know… have a little personal time.”
“Ohhhh.”
The woman laughed a genuinely wicked laugh. “Not hardly.”
“Fine! Fine. Sagittaran rules. After all, how complicated can it be?”
Wilda reached over and patted his hand reassuringly.
“Oh, don’t worry baby. I’ll keep it simple for you.”
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branchandroot
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Date: 2014-11-21 04:34 am (UTC)His name was Brandell, a pilot formerly of the GALACTICA. Wilda had made a special effort yo look up his military history. There wasn’t a lot. He seemed to be quite reserved about his past, but she did find one useful piece of information – he only noticed women who could match him, whether it be drinking, sports or flying. Quite the egotist in every sense of the word.
She seated herself in an empty chair across the table from him and put her elbow on the table, hand in the air. A silent challenge.
He was reclining in the chair, rather sprawled was a more accurate term. Smiling over the brim of his mug she just shook his head.
“Go back to the kitchen, little girl. Arm wrestling is a man’s game.”
“What’s wrong. Afraid you’ll lose?”
“I wouldn’t want to hurt someone as delicate as you. I’d hate to make you cry.”
The copper haired woman grinned.
“You know I was going to say the same about you. The other Colonies know how squishy soft you Capricans are. All those fine beds and all that rich, fattening food. You’ve had it pretty good on board the Galactica the past few months shadowing the ATLANTIA around, catering to President Adar’s every whim. Party after party your commander was invited to, and his crew didn’t lack for refreshments from what I hear.”
“Well you heard wrong, little girl.”
“Oh really? So your Strike Commander didn’t rotate the squadrons out for a little R&R after the initial announcement about the armistice was announced? You didn’t have a little celebration dance with Commander Adama’s daughter at the President’s reception party on the way to Cimtar? Oh. I suppose that wasn’t you who participated in that high stakes Pyramid game on the Atlantia where you got your pants beaten off of you by those Gemons?”
Wilda smiled. “Oh, I hear things. I hear many things. Interesting and embarrassing things about what goes on in storage rooms off of the President’s private quarters between his daughter who is also a squadron leader and a certain Warrior…”
Brandell’s grin disappeared and a hard, suspicious look narrowed his dark eyes.
“Where did you get that information?”
He cast a death glare at his friends seated around the table, all of whom looked serious and shook their heads to let him know not one of them had said a word.
“Like I said. I hear things.”
“That wrong hearing can get you into a whole lot of trouble. Besides, it’s not like you can just message her and ask, now can you?”
Wilda sat back in her chair. This was going to be easier than she thought.
“No,” she admitted. “She’s dead along with her father and her shipmates. Too bad, I hear she was worth three of you. And you know something. Come to think of it. You ARE right. I don’t really want to play this game with you after all. You’d throw the game just to let some little girl win, and then you send me away with a smack on my rear while you bragged to your cronies about how magnanimous you were being by throwing me a bone so to speak.”
She rose from her chair. “Congratulations. You’ve just become boring. I’m off to hunt bigger game. Thanks for reminding me just what big losers you Capricans are after all.”
She shoots. She scores! Wilda gave the men at the table a strut of her hips as she started to walk away.
“Wait!”
A leasurely look back over her shoulder revealed that the man had now sat up straight in his chair.
“Ok. One game. After that you go to the food prep and get me a sandwich. I’ll be hungry.”
“Oh joy!” she exclaimed melodramatically.
Reclaiming her seat she asked “Can we play by Sagittaran rules?”
“What does that mean?” one of Brandell’s friends asked. Another nudged him and grinned.
“Stupid, it means when she loses they… you know… have a little personal time.”
“Ohhhh.”
The woman laughed a genuinely wicked laugh. “Not hardly.”
“Fine! Fine. Sagittaran rules. After all, how complicated can it be?”
Wilda reached over and patted his hand reassuringly.
“Oh, don’t worry baby. I’ll keep it simple for you.”