With the Captain off camp and Emma distracted by the sheer quantity of building work and repairs that are needed around camp Ric is... well he is bending the rules, not breaking, merely manipulating them to suit his needs. Really there's no-one actually enforcing the curfew and the non-mutant soldiers around the camp are clearly still reeling from
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"Full of shit huh? Why you say that eh?" The Mexican hint to his accent starts to ease in, the alcohol encouraging his lazy way of speaking. It's something Ric gets teased for, the soldiers all calling him Gonzalez when he passes them by. Not that Ric minds, he's always managed to strike up conversations with those who work around the bases at which the team are deployed. The boy isn't a fool (much), it's always important to build up a strong rapport and sense of friendship with the people who watch your back.
"Come on Mac, play another round. We can make the game more fun an' go for the strip poker? Or maybe a card game of your choice hmm? I'll even give you a pack of my winnings to sweeten the deal." Ric likes Mac, she's brash, loud and fun but she also comes across as a woman who knows what she wants and how the hell to get it. Not to mention the Captain obviously has a lot of time for her. Ric has spotted the Captain slinking off into the garage when Ric is out having a crafty late night smoke.
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Tossing the wings from the freezer to the ovens, getting away with it because Chef didn't mind Mac's amazingly spicy glazed wings one little bit, Mac stuck her head in the freezer for a few minutes to clear her head a little. She wasn't close to being as drunk as she could be. But she wasn't far off it. It wasn't like she'd actually been taking care of herself since she woke up in the med centre with bruised and torn wrists and a headache the size of Nebraska.
"Fuck this," leaving the timer on the wings, Mac wandered back over to the table, sitting in her seat and nudging Ric. "Gimme some of your pot, I'll spot you back later."
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Though the smell of those chicken wings is soon permeating the air and making Ric's mouth water like crazy. Seems to be having the same effect of most of the soldiers and even the Head Chef, who keeps sending non-subtle glances towards the kitchen. "You give me some of what you are cooking and I'll call us quits alright?"
Ric takes the freshly dealt hand and arranges his cards, glancing up around the table.
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A few pieces of greasy chicken would do everyone good though. Waiting for the timer, Mac fussed around in the kitchen with the sauce for the wings, shoving it in a dish and then in the microwave, "Yo, dimples, put me in with the rest." She probably lost more hands than she won, but Mac ended up sticking in with almost all of the rounds anyway.
With the timer dinging and the wings out, Mac split the chicken up into basket platters and slathered the sauce over them all. Taking out some for each table, Mac popped two on her own table, knowing that Chef would cut off hands if he didn't get any. Taking another swig of bourbon, she nudged Ric's shoulder with her elbow.
"Dig in, it's my speciality."
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The smell of the chicken wings pervades the mess hall and all the guys are looking longingly towards the kitchen and Mac as she dishes out the baskets of food. Ric doesn't wait to be told twice and grabs one, devouring it with loud moans of pleasure and sucking the sauce off of his fingers.
"I would totally fuck you if I didn't have Martini." The words are slightly muffled by the mouthful of chicken but the sentiment remains the same. Boy those wings taste good and if the way the Chef is eating a whole basket to himself is anything to go by he agrees too. Tossing his chips in Ric meets the latest bet and settles back in his chair, lighting up one of his stash of cigarettes and blowing smoke rings into the air.
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Chef just rolls his eyes, because he's had to listen to the stuff Mac comes back from Spokane bitching about. Or that one time, when she went to Seattle. "So we'll all just sit here and thank the Lord for Martini, shall we?"
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Ric is so used to hearing how feminine and girly he is, especially with his hissy fits and strops but Ric has always worn his heart on his sleeve. And been very very loud and expressive about his feelings. Not his fault that people just assume he's a drama queen.
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Eyes were averted, and Mac just stayed draped over Ric as he sulked. "I'm sure everyone loves you for your fabulous Mexican ways, hot stuff." She didn't make a point on being mean, but Mac usually said things that came across the wrong way. Making it up was usually just as easy though.
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"You're just jealous that you'll never get to try out this Mexican." Ric might just have patted the curve of Mac's ass for good measure too. He held up a packet of cigarettes though a moment later and tilted them towards the doors. "Smoke?"
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