[Sam] Volleyball!
Who: Dean, Sam, Scott, Molly, Isabel, Tara, Willow, Aeryn, John Crichton
When: Day 36, morning, immediately after [Willow]All Around the Campfire...
Where: Camp Crash II
Invited: Anyone already at the camp
Status: Complete
OOC: The teams:
Jets
Dean (shorts)
Scott (swimming trunks)
Tara (green "Xanatos Enterprises" T-shirt, shorts, hair tied back)
John Crichton (swimming trunks)
George (khaki shorts, light gray t-shirt*)
Isabel
Sharks
Sam (shorts)
NPC Ripley (her usual snakeskin outfit)
Aeryn (black leather leggings, white vest shirt)
Willow ("My other car is a broom" T-shirt, shorts)
Molly ("Santa uses child labor" T-shirt, cut-off shorts)
Ami (shorts, cami-shirt)
* Additional T-shirt detail: light gray with those lines for marking how tall someone is in a mug shot, with the legend "You'll wish you hadn't read this when the police ask what I looked like."
Additional menfolk detail: This might not come into play, but I figure I'll throw the details out there. Of the men playing Scott's the least muscular. Due to all of the physical labor on the island he's gotten pretty toned, so that goes to show how pumped up the rest of the guys are.
Also, Scott's tanned. Sam's and Dean's farmer's tans are starting to even out. I'm guessing that Crichton is space pilot white. Hee.
If anyone else wants in, holler!
Ripley's eyes had glazed over as Scott explained the rules to her. "Okay?" he concluded. In Sam's opinion the psychic had kept it pretty concise.
Ripley studied the overinflated basketball that was the closest thing they had to a volleyball. "Yeah. One person serves. Keep the ball in the air on your side of the net. Get the other team to let it hit the ground on their side. Don't puncture the ball with your nails."
Scott chuckled. "That's right. And don't touch the net."
"Okay," Ripley shrugged. She lobbed the ball to Sam, who was in the far right corner on their -- the Sharks' -- side. They'd won the coin toss, so he'd start the game.
Sam bounced the "volleyball" off of his fist, trying to decide if he should serve overhand or under. As he did he hummed the rumble song from "West Side Story."
Dean sighed dramatically. "Sammy, you're such a dork."
Sam rolled his eyes at him. "Hey, I didn't name the teams. And who recognized the song? Huh? Huh?" That earned him a round of chuckles and a half-exasperated glare from Dean.
"Any day now, Sam," George prompted.
"Right. Zero, zero," Sam called as he swung his arm back. He opted for an underhand serve; the ball was much heavier than a volleyball. It sailed over the net, looking like it would stay in bounds.
When: Day 36, morning, immediately after [Willow]All Around the Campfire...
Where: Camp Crash II
Invited: Anyone already at the camp
Status: Complete
OOC: The teams:
Jets
Dean (shorts)
Scott (swimming trunks)
Tara (green "Xanatos Enterprises" T-shirt, shorts, hair tied back)
John Crichton (swimming trunks)
George (khaki shorts, light gray t-shirt*)
Isabel
Sharks
Sam (shorts)
NPC Ripley (her usual snakeskin outfit)
Aeryn (black leather leggings, white vest shirt)
Willow ("My other car is a broom" T-shirt, shorts)
Molly ("Santa uses child labor" T-shirt, cut-off shorts)
Ami (shorts, cami-shirt)
* Additional T-shirt detail: light gray with those lines for marking how tall someone is in a mug shot, with the legend "You'll wish you hadn't read this when the police ask what I looked like."
Additional menfolk detail: This might not come into play, but I figure I'll throw the details out there. Of the men playing Scott's the least muscular. Due to all of the physical labor on the island he's gotten pretty toned, so that goes to show how pumped up the rest of the guys are.
Also, Scott's tanned. Sam's and Dean's farmer's tans are starting to even out. I'm guessing that Crichton is space pilot white. Hee.
If anyone else wants in, holler!
Ripley's eyes had glazed over as Scott explained the rules to her. "Okay?" he concluded. In Sam's opinion the psychic had kept it pretty concise.
Ripley studied the overinflated basketball that was the closest thing they had to a volleyball. "Yeah. One person serves. Keep the ball in the air on your side of the net. Get the other team to let it hit the ground on their side. Don't puncture the ball with your nails."
Scott chuckled. "That's right. And don't touch the net."
"Okay," Ripley shrugged. She lobbed the ball to Sam, who was in the far right corner on their -- the Sharks' -- side. They'd won the coin toss, so he'd start the game.
Sam bounced the "volleyball" off of his fist, trying to decide if he should serve overhand or under. As he did he hummed the rumble song from "West Side Story."
Dean sighed dramatically. "Sammy, you're such a dork."
Sam rolled his eyes at him. "Hey, I didn't name the teams. And who recognized the song? Huh? Huh?" That earned him a round of chuckles and a half-exasperated glare from Dean.
"Any day now, Sam," George prompted.
"Right. Zero, zero," Sam called as he swung his arm back. He opted for an underhand serve; the ball was much heavier than a volleyball. It sailed over the net, looking like it would stay in bounds.