MOAR Procrastination. BIGGAR Procrastination.
He he . . . I have 25 pages worth of work due Thursday. I have zero pages written. So, I'm going to procrastinate a little more, because that makes sense.
The first TEN people to comment in this post get to request a drabble/ficlet of any pairing/character of their choosing from me. In return, they have to post this in their journal.Since I've ( Read more... )
The first TEN people to comment in this post get to request a drabble/ficlet of any pairing/character of their choosing from me. In return, they have to post this in their journal.Since I've ( Read more... )
Louis Hoshi lay sprawled on a narrow cot-one of several that had been crammed into the bunkroom in a desperate attempt to accommodate all the extra officers. He was lucky to have it, he knew. Across the room, a young couple tried to sleep in a standard billet along with their two toddlers. In a storage closet down the hall, nonessential personnel camped out on the deck with only the bedrolls from Marine survival training. There were much worse berths than a spare cot a few inches too short, or that was what he kept telling himself.
He hadn’t quite convinced himself.
“Hey, Hoshi, how are you holding up?”
Louis would recognize that inhumanly cheery voice anywhere. The mattress creaked slightly as Dualla plopped herself on the end of his bed like a pestering little sister. Louis cracked one eyelid to glare at her, but there was no real heat behind it. His voice was morose. “You used my ship as a battering ram.”
The younger Lieutenant quirked a smile. “And a very pretty one, at that.”
Louis groaned and pulled a pillow over his face. “Don’t make me hurt you, sir.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. Especially since it’s not ‘sir,’ anymore; over here I’m just a senior grade lieutenant, the same as you.” Louis didn’t respond. His relationship with his former XO had been . . . rocky, at best, but they had developed a rapport over the last four months. Right now, though, he just wanted to be alone.
Dee would have none of that. “Come on, Hoshi, I want to show you something.”
“I’m fine here, thanks.”
The teasing smile was back. “Well . . . okay. See, I was going to tell you that the Admiral’s found quarters for myself and Major Adama. I was going to suggest that since that vacates a bunk in locker B, some enterprising young officer could come and claim it. But, I see you’re perfectly comfortable where you are. Enjoy your sleep.” She patted the top of his foot, where it stuck out off the end of the cot and turned to go.
Hoshi swallowed his pride. “Dualla.” She turned, one eyebrow arched. “Did you change the sheets?” He took the proffered hand and let her haul him out of bed. He didn’t have any packing to do. All his worldly possessions had gone down with the Pegasus; there hadn’t been time to unload it. He stuffed his feet into boots, slung his only uniform jacket over his shoulder, and made a mental note to visit the quartermaster.
Dee led the way, threading through corridors that were still packed with civilians.
Locker B was just a few doors down. Dualla pushed the hatch open and led him into a bunkroom that was just as crowded, but with one conspicuously open bunk. “There she be.”
Hoshi approached the billet cautiously. He sniffed the pillow, checked under the sheets. Behind him, Dee made an exasperated sound. Finally, he sat on the mattress, smirking slightly. “It’s not a Battlestar, but I’ll take it as a down payment.”
Dee rolled her eyes. “Hoshi, you’re something else.” She sat beside him, walled in by the buzz of conversation on all sides. “She was a good ship.”
“The best in the fleet.”
“She had one hell of a last battle.”
“Yeah.”
“You understand why we did it, right? We had to get the people off of New Caprica. Galactica couldn’t have done it on her own.”
“’Course.” His voice was hollow. “Survival of the human race and all that good stuff.”
“It’s all about the people.” She stared into space silently for a moment, then her face brightened as if an idea had just struck her. “Come with me, Lieutenant.”
“Where?”
“Civilian quarters. A friend of mine has been having a bad day. Maybe you can help me cheer him up.”
Hoshi sighed and stood, dumping his jacket on the bunk. “Sure.” Despite himself, he felt the beginnings of a smile growing. Sometimes it was just easier not to argue with her.
Fin
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Poor Louis. They used his home as a projectile weapon. ♥ I love Dee coming to his side trying to make him feel better. And I see what you did there! I see where they're going! :) This makes me all happy inside. ILU.
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Glad you see where they're going! She's a sneaky little matchmaker . . . (resists the urge to break into song)
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I still think Battlestar Galactia: The Musical would be amazing. But what do I know?
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Yes, my Hoshi's working again . . . a little. I've made a point of writing a little every day--even if it's just a sentence or two--so there is slight progress which should turn into major progress in short order.
. . . They could do what Buffy did--just randomly burst into song for an episode and then forget it ever happened!
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Yay progress! I wish I could say as much for Truth on Our Side. I need self-control or something. I keep starting all these one-shots that are interfering with my work on that, and then not even the one-shots get finished. Oh, my ADD. D:
Dead!Kara: "Every single night, the same arangement, I go out and fight the fight. Still I always feel this strange estrangement. Nothing here is real, nothing here is right."
We don't even have to rewrite anything! It works as it is! :)
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Great stuff! :)
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