It's Luau Time

[fikgirl]

Who: Faith Lehane
When: Day 38, Night: The Luau
Where: Camp Crash II
Invited: Everyone
Status: Complete (action moved to another thread

Comments

Re: [Stephen]

[lost_mckay]

"Now I know why they skipped over this half of the century as far as dancing was concerned. Almost makes me miss Earhart's." Susan had to raise her voice to be heard. Now, oddly enough, swing and jazz was more her style than the music playing, but she made due... particularly as the melody changed into something a little softer. With ease, one hand found his shoulder, the other went for his hand as the sway began... nothing stuffy, mind, nor particularly romantic in her moves, in following the step... but they were friends, and there was a comfortable familiarity in both her manner and mien.

"Okay Stephen... you were the one known for cutting the rug until all hours. There is no way I could even begin to compete." She glanced along the sidelines, briefly checking the gathered, taking in presences and absences before returning her attention to the chief medico. "This isn't what I'd pick for leave," Susan's tones were dry, "but for everything that's happened, I suppose it could be worse." She paused before she finished, an 'innocent' smile playing at the corners of her lips, "I could be dancing with Garibaldi."

[Stephen]

[cbeckett_md]

Stephen grinned at Susan, "If you were dancing with Michael you'd be doing more hopping then dancing. The man may be light on his feet in a fight or when chasing crooks but get him on the dance floor and he's got two right feet. I'd say left, but that's his primary side." Of course it is more fun to pick on Michael when he's actually around to hear it. It's a bit of an exageration, but compare him to Stephen on the dance floor and it isn't far off.

Stephen sent Susan into a spin, and then pulled her back in, his grin widening now, "At least you know when you are beaten Susan." Yeah, he knows he could get in trouble for that, but what's life without a little bit of trouble?

[Ivanova]

[lost_mckay]

Stephen was easy on his feet; it's something Susan knew after working with the man for only a few months. How many times had they been at Earhart's at the same time? Official functions that required some sort of... festivities? She had drawn the line, however, when Jeff had insisted on that comparitive religion thing with the aliens...

Still, that meant that he was very easy to anticipate, as far as his leading was concerned, anyway. As the music moved, and their conversation took the more... challenging of tones, Susan was spun, and she followed, looking very much as if she was some dancer from the Bolshoi.

But there's where it ended.

The moment she recovered from her spin and the 'trap', she smiled, and it was one that held a great deal of promise, though possibly not quite what the good doctor had intended. She moved ever so slightly before bringing a foot out, high enough that there was no way Stephen could possibly have stepped over or avoided, and swept, being sure it was a tight maneuver such that it wouldn't affect anyone else in close quarters.

The point? Bring the man down!

"That's me... always give up when there's no hope..." That was offered lightly, with a spark in her eye; Nothing mean there, or malice. It was all in fun, really, but the commander made damned sure she was the one who walked off the dance floor once the move was completed... and Stephen... in the sand.

[Marcus]

[tweets]

A little 'oh' of surprise formed on Marcus' bearded face as he watched Susan deliberately dump Stephen on the floor.

In fact, it was some heavy measure of her current state of mind and Marcus decided that discretion was the better part of valour.

He stepped from the bushes, still out of her sight, and moved to the now-empty log at the fire, sitting as if he'd been there all along, the bottle of good Russian Vodka snuggled between his feet, chilled and ready for drinking.

As she approached, he looked up and cast a smile in her direction, but secretly hoped that his peace-offering wouldn't prejudice her towards violence.

[Ivanova]

[lost_mckay]

Susan straightened her sarong, flattened hands taking care of whatever bump or wrinkle that may have cropped up, and looked back at the 'damage' she'd 'wreaked', a pleased smile on her face. Nobody'd been hurt, nothing disrupted too badly, and she stepped her way back over to the fire. As she got closer, she spotted Marcus settled in, looking all the world as if he'd been there the entire time. Her brows rose, her amused expression remained, and she found a spot beside him to better watch the festivities. Well, to better watch and... for other, more private reasons.

Sam was dancing with Miho, and ... the others. Susan was happy that the detective found distraction from her; and Miho seemed like a good sort, and she wished the pair the best. She couldn't help but watch as the more 'gentle' music held sway, the 'couples' out and enjoying the moment. For her part, she was done. A little more drinking, then some of that pig that they'd been roasting all day, some salad, fruit, and conversation would be perfect.

"Welcome to the party." She knew he wasn't there the entire evening. She'd been looking around the gathered all evening, and she sure as hell would have noticed the Ranger... if he wanted to be seen. Her tones turned softly wry, "I could give you the play by play, but that would hurt me." Not for jealousy, certainly, nor for personal reasons. Susan saw Faith and Daniel move off... Daniel was about to go where everyone had gone before. Of course, when faced with options (after reading that journal), there really were none for a man like him. All she could hope for Daniel was that the pair remained alone...

"I figure that we'll start carving the pig soon." After everyone has had the effects of hard drink in their system with no food? Deliberate, certainly, at least on her part. She hasn't yet really started any of her own hard drinking, but she was waiting for the meal before she became serious about it.

[Marcus]

[tweets]

Marcus looked up, chewing thoughtfully on his lip. He was still having trouble processing exactly what had happened last night, but in his heart he couldn't be happier.

To cover his momentary lapse of discretion, he smiled, then held up the chilled bottle of vodka. "I discovered something that I thought might help keep the wolves at bay."

[Ivanova]

[lost_mckay]

Nah... not a momentary lapse of discretion, at least as far as Susan was concerned. The way she saw it, Marcus was far from 'normal', and somewhere along the line, the universe decreed that she would forever be, well, not burdened, but... subjected? subjected to his idiosyncracies. It was a task that she has come to terms with some time ago, but never really accepted or admitted. Now, however, with the music, the dancing, the besting of one Dr. Stephen Franklin (though it was understood that revenge would be plotted for revenge having been taken-- ad infinitum), and a taste of the drink, she was, for the moment, happy. Well, for all those reasons and one very private one.

She'd rediscovered her empty cup, and the bottle was now elsewhere, with her blessings. That left her bereft of drink, if only for the moment. She'd expected some acknoweldgement, a bit of observation of the gathered, but...

Susan's brows raised as she looked first at Marcus, then at the bottle of... is that...??

Not fair!

Her expression lit up immediately after she'd truly realized what it was that the Ranger held in his hand. A soft laugh of appreciation, coupled with a genuine smile came as she reached for the bottle. "How did you-- Where did you--" Two questions, neither of them completed, but she figured that he was smart enough to know where they were leading. Instead of a third question, however, all she could really articulate well was "Thank you." Once that was done, however, her smile turned more... mischievious once again. "You do know--" You'll have to share this with me... The unspoken finishing of the sentence. He couldn't claim duty; not this time.

[Stephen]

[cbeckett_md]

Stephen was no match for a Russian bent on revenge, or even on a practical joke. One minute the good doctor was on his feet, keeping with the beat, and the next minute he was flat on his back and his drink cup was rolling across the ground, "Oh now Susan, that's just wrong. You spilled my drink."

Of course the good doctor seemed to take it all with good humour since shortly after speaking he ended up laughing his butt off. He called after Susan's retreating back, "You'll never get a good dance partner with moves like that Susan. Remind me never to do the waltz with you. I'd probably break my neck."