New Mexico / June, 1958 / 02:24

[bingo_faced]

Nighttime.

The desert cooled greatly at night, especially nights as clear as this one. Lieutenant (J.G.) Al "Bingo" Calavicci wouldn't know the difference. Half the bottles lay strewn in the dirt while the other half were placed precisely, a practical lineup on the white edge line of the road. Off the road, in the dirt, Al's candy apple red

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[bingo_faced]

So she would play ball. Al smirked and crossed his arms, lifting his chin in her direction. "Changes are, if you really are telling the truth -- and I don't believe you are, not yet -- then all I need to do is wait here with you and someone's gonna be along." He offered his thought with a trace of cockiness as he crossed his arms in front of him. "Because, ma'am, the United States government is not the type of organization to allow one of their experimental airplanes or the pilot in the hotseat to go unchecked." As if to illustrate his point, Bingo turned and looked for signs of life other than theirs in the vast quiet of the desert.

When he turned back to her, he was already in search of another cigarette. His hands betrayed a little more than he'd have liked, the tell-tale nervous shake coming through more clearly with the lighter and flame. What if this really were a rather serious situation involving an enemy spy plane? Should that be the case, then Calavicci was in for a battery of questioning, and while this woman seemed like a pistol, he wasn't sure she was worth the questioning and paperwork he'd have to fill out.

Al took a long drag and then groaned at himself for giving in. "Look, Captain, if the roles were reversed here, what would you expect? I'm not lookin' to ruin anyone's life, but there are strange things, and stranger things, and this is even worse than that." Why yes, he was known for ranting and raving, especially with the aid of his hands.

[anekanta]

So now he was trying to call her out? After the night she'd had, she really didn't need to go round and round with some idiot in the godsdamned desert. She waved him off flippantly, placing her empty bottle with its tumbled brethren.

"Right, well, can't take that chance, can you?" She nodded toward his car. "Why don't you scamper off toward wherever it is you're really going. I'll wait here for my ride on my own." She folded her arms against the chill and the pain in her arm and turned away from him and back into the dessert. Kara figured she'd make a show of investigating the wreckage before returning to road, because apparently, she had a long walk ahead of her.

[bingo_faced]

If there was one thing in the whole of the world that could drive Al absolutely bonkers, it was a moody woman. Unfortunately, they were also one of his biggest weaknesses. Feeling a complete and utter jerk, the young pilot pressed his palm to his forehead, the glowing ember of the cigarette dangerously close to his semi-unruly mop. "Ah, I'm sorry," he informed Thrace, and it was certainly genuine enough. "Look, I'll, uh... I'll take you wherever you need to go, all right?" Bingo's hand dropped and he gestured around them as if she might choose their direction right then and there. "Or-- or I'll send someone back to get you. Whatever you need," he offered. In retrospect, it hadn't been very human of him to question and accuse her when she'd obviously just been through quite an ordeal.

As if it excused his behavior (it didn't,) or was the truth (it wasn't,) Al finished, "It's the beer." He poured out the bottle he'd just recently opened.

[anekanta]

Oh, great, he was following her - she'd never had walking away work for her before, and it was just her luck it'd be a success the first time when she didn't want it to.

She waved him off, barely affording him a glance over her shoulder. "I'll be fine. You might want to make yourself scarce, huh?" She doubted it'd do her any good, though, and at any rate, she really didn't want to be left alone in the desert.

[bingo_faced]

"Nah, c'mon," he urged her. Bingo snuffed out his cigarette and the desert seemed all the darker for it. Overhead, wisps of clouds remained as a trace, telling of the moodiness of New Mexico during even the warmer months. "We don't even hafta go anywhere. Just come and sit down. You've probably gotten pretty tossed around on your way down and now you're trekking through the scrub brush and dust because I couldn't keep my mug shut." Geez, just beg her to come around, why don't you, Bingo? he mentally chided.

What was it he wanted from her? Company? Al often didn't think company was worth so much trouble, but times had gotten tougher since he'd been reassigned. He was the same cocky Bingo, but he shared space with a whole mess of people just as cocky as he was. Oh, Al, if only your troubles were novel.

He stopped, not willing to go too far from the Corvette without knowing exactly where the outcome of his reasoning would lead them.

[anekanta]

Kara felt rather than heard him stop behind her, and she mostly wanted to keep going. She figured she could track a bit further on down the road through the 'scrub brush and dust' and be all the better for it. Still, there was part of her that was loathe to be all on her own.

The fact was, she had been pretty shaken up - even before her unceremonious landing on some place she'd never heard of, she'd had something of a shock. In fact, she wasn't even sure if she was really even alive or not - for all she knew, this was some version of Hell, and Calavicci another menacing avatar trying to manipulate her (though he was neither very menacing nor manipulative).

Either way, at least he was there and she wasn't wandering through the desert by herself. She was exhausted, and though she'd never want to admit it, she was afraid of passing out and falling prey to whatever denizens of the New Mexico night that might fall upon her.

So she turned back to Calavicci, and even in her pique, she still had to resist the urge to grin - the man looked nearly supplicant. So maybe he wasn't exactly Pyriphlegethon's ferryman after all - could be he really was just a hapless military man beset upon by Kara and her troubles. In light of those problems, she couldn't afford him much sympathy, but at least she started walking back toward him.

Keeping her gaze deliberately dark and her stance entirely closed-off, she said, "Fine. Will you quit with the questions?" She might have sounded hostile, but she was asking in earnest - there were honestly things she just couldn't bring herself to discuss, and inventing cover was becoming a huge strain on her already tired mind.

[bingo_faced]

"No questions," he agreed, nodding his head distractedly. Oh, Bingo, what are you getting yourself into? The young man let out a quiet sigh of relief, hoping it would help to even out his nerves over the duration of their company. He didn't want to even think about how he might have felt if he'd really left her out there alone -- it likely would have haunted him back to find her before he could get out of the state.

Feeling safer the nearer they were to the car, Calavicci pushed through the dark toward his beloved car, intent on the thought that it provided a buffer between him and his new companion. Something of a breathing, burning memorial, the bright cherry speedster provided a kind of sick company (and the alcohol another.) Al didn't care. He needed her, that car.

Set adrift in his thoughts not for the first time of the evening, Bingo commiserated with himself. Pity was new, self-pity even newer. It felt wretched, and he'd drown it well enough in the beer and liquor before she'd shown up. Thankfully, she seemed a worthwhile distraction from all of his self-induced misery leaving Al to feel a bit lighter and more like himself.

He was just to the road again when he turned back to look at her. "Since I can't ask questions, hopefully statements will do. If I can help, you'll tell me. I can help if you need it." And he was certainly one for keeping his word.

[anekanta]

A large portion of Kara's life had been devoted to just the opposite of what Calavicci was offering - she hated asking for help. Sometimes, though, life was about overcoming what scared you - but just as often, it was about stubbornly ignoring those fears. Kara hadn't quite decided which side of that fine line she wanted to walk, so she just turned and took a step back toward the road.

"I think I need to sit," she said at last, forcing a bit of steel into her shaky voice. Her knee was throbbing after her little stroll back - further evidence she'd do better not to keep getting on the man's bad side. She needed help right now.

Hobbling (and hating herself for it), she made for the car, biting back a groan of agony. "Bring me another bottle," she gritted out - it might be worse for her in the long-run to get hammered, she figured she'd earned it.

[bingo_faced]

Al opened the passenger door for Kara and then went around the the trunk to gather up some supplies. He had a spare sweater which would serve a dual purpose, both as a transport for the remaining beer, but also as a way for Thrace to chase away the inevitable and lasting chill of the New Mexican desert.

"You want this?" He asked as he dumped the bottles in on the driver's seat. Realizing his mistake, he corrected, "You want this." Hey, she never said he wasn't allowed to be a bit of a smartass. The Captain acted like the type to take it and not be too offended, anyway. "And this," he finished, offering a beer with one hand and the sweater with the other.

[anekanta]

Kara rolled her eyes though she was glad he was playing along. She was even happier to have a seat, and she eased herself into the passenger-side, careful of her knee. Accepting both the beer and the sweater, she arranged herself until she was warmer and taking a satisfying pull from the longneck. Kara'd have liked another smoke, but she knew she could wait - after all, she'd gone without for a long time as it was.

Surveying the unfamiliar stars through the windscreen leant her some perspective - she was really, really lost. She had no idea if there was even a morning forthcoming; for all she knew, it'd be nighttime in the desert for another six hours or another six months.

Heaving a sigh, she took another drink before going to work on her knee. She could feel that it was tender, but it was't swollen - a good sign that it at least wasn't torn. Still it ached and probing it with her fingers revealed more and more pain. She'd need another dozen bottles just to dull it, she thought (though Kara was known for her ability to overestimate, especially when it came to liquor).

Leaning up, she sought to distract herself from the pain. She studied the steering column, the familiat gear shift, the dangling key ring. Compulsion made her reach for it as she might a familiar's dogtags; soldiers were often known for wearing the tags bearing names of friends and lovers in the service. She guessed it meant nothing it at all the man only had a pair of bottle openers depending from a handfull of keys, but it somehow made her feel a little sorry for him.

She glanced up and caught his eye. "Where's home?" she asked, hoping to do a bit more information-gathering disguised as friendly interest.

[bingo_faced]

"I'm... in between places," he replied readily, though he obviously wasn't certain. Al moved the bottles to make room for himself and then sat in the driver's seat, half in and half out. With his leg on the pavement, Bingo relaxed back in the bucket seat and settled for who knew how long. If he told her the truth, he probably would have said he didn't have a home, but since she was expecting answers, he filled them in. "Suppose the nearest I've got is 'Earth,' and that might not be for much longer," he joked, dry and lacking true mirth.

"Anyway, if I were the type to choose a place -- and trust me, ma'am, I am not -- I would get myself a little plot of land around here. Somewhere quiet but not too far from the casinos." The young pilot shook his head and fiddled at his keys as they hung from the ignition.

He was curious. Bingo wanted to ask back, but their arrangement didn't much allow for that. Besides, he thought it was at least a little sportsman like to give it a try. Learning without questioning took more than a little thought and concentration. Instead of asking, he guessed, "If I had to guess, I'd say you were from the West Coast." She looked a bit like the blondes he'd seen on the boardwalk in Santa Barbara.

[anekanta]

Earth? This couldn't have gone better if she'd actually just begun to interrogate him. Part of her was afraid to believe it could be true, and the rest was beginning to think she was just hallucinating. Either way, the combination of 'Earth,' 'casino,' and 'coast' was building quite a paradise in her mind, so she was happy to stay awhile.

Unsure of how to negotiate Calavicci's 'guess,' she simply nodded. "Yes - the west coast." She was frakked if he wanted any more details, so she hoped he could just keep agreeing with him. At least that denoted some sort of body of water - Kara liked the water well enough, so she supposed that was fine.

She leaned back into the seat and slumped against the door, studying him in profile. Kara knew squirelly when she saw it. He was almost as evasive as she was, and that was fine by her - the more he didn't want to give up about himself, the less he'd wonder about her.

Still, the silent desert night was oppressive and the need to know more about the place, be it fantasy or not, was overwhelming. "You'd live here, though? Other than a casino, what else is there?"

[bingo_faced]

Al's face lit as she confirmed his suspicions about her origin. He tried his hardest not to immediately imagine her in a bikini, skating away with his attention along the boardwalk of his mind. Feeling the (ever present) need for a cigarette, the man leaned toward the road so he could fish the half-empty soft pack from his side pocket. "A whole lotta nothin'," which was probably why it appealed to him so strongly. That's very emo of you, Al.

He didn't bother asking, just handed her a cigarette and his lighter coupled in one hand. "Oh, well, I suppose I should mention there are probably some cowboys and Indians. And some rattlesnakes. But, other than that, not much else." Suited him just fine. Retrieving a pack of matched from the console, Calavicci lit his cigarette and gestures with it, waving his smoke at the windscreen. "But not everywhere in New Mexico is like this."

And here he was, jawing away like they'd known each other for ages. "Though, if you're looking for more than just casinos, Vegas is the place to be." He whistled, apparently agreeing with himself. "Reno's not bad either, but you can't beat a handful of singles in a place like Vegas." Pardon him, he's thinking back to the last time he'd gone about shoving money at scantily clad women. Maybe he had time for a detour...

[anekanta]

Kara took the cigarette, trying not to look disappointed in the news that there wasn't a vibrant, bustling city just over the next (nonexistent) rise. She supposed she could use that in her favor, though - at least with Calavicci's unwitting help, perhaps she could build a passable cover on the way to... wherever. So far, 'missing pilot on a top-secret flight' wasn't so solid. She could be Kara Thrace of 'the West Coast' - whatever that was.

"You like to gamble?" she asked, willfully ignorant of the bent of his thoughts. She lit the cigarette and looked at him with the benefit of the light with genuine interest. So long as she could figure out the rules to some basic card game, perhaps she could also win a little scratch; cash would be a necessity soon enough as it was.

[bingo_faced]

"Like to win," he replied, only just popping back out the other side of his reply of some lustful night. "Like to waste my money 'cause I sure as hell ain't spending it on anything else. She's paid off, I haven't kept a place of my own in years." It was a decent use of cold, hard cash, wasn't it? No? No, probably not. Calavicci smirked and tilted his head to look at her. "Can always make more."

This was where he decided he could finally relax a little. Taking up his keys and a bottle of beer, the pilot was forced to work the top off without burning himself or the car with the lit cigarette. Top popped, he took two quick sips of beer and then placed the bottle down on the pavement next to the car. "You play." It was hard to keep his statement from sounding like a question.

[anekanta]

Kara leaned back, enjoying the open-air and the view. She felt a little more at ease instantly, and she couldn't help a small, weary smile as she watched smoke curl up into the night sky. "Yes, I play," she responded to his non-question. There were plenty of peculiar things about her day thus-far, but the easiest one to field was not being known by reputation from the first moment.

She took a pull from her bottle and settled it against her sore knee. Kara was without a plan as to how she was going to take care of herself here, and she doubted hustling triad would get her very far, and she could hardly just wander onto an air force base and pretend she belonged there.

She turned and looked at him once more. "The next town - is there somewhere I can make a call? I'll need to make a report as to my whereabouts." That sounded plausible enough, and though any air force worth a damn would be able to track a major investment like a secret plane, Kara knew all about blinking off radar. She was pretty much GalacticaGalactica.