[ one thing about the danaë is that there isn't much ambiguity about where to meet up: when you say grab a drink, you know exactly where to go, since there's a grand total of one (1) bar to hit up. bellamy hasn't actually tried the on-ship drinks yet (too many memories of being poisoned by a wonky algae crop, too much uncertainty that some of that distilled alien liquor will even work right), but fuck it, there's a first time for everything. so he eventually camps out at a table by the viewscreen, with a clear view of the rest of the mess hall and its entrance, and settles in for a wait. it's pretty quiet hour, without a lot of people around: he glances up whenever someone wanders in, but they tend to just head straight to the food dispensers instead.
should've gotten a physical description, he realises. and with a name like dutch, maybe he was expecting something else: some burly ex-soldier accustomed to fighting aliens. some swaggering spacer with broad shoulders.
instead, once he sees the woman that enters the hall and makes a beeline straight for the bar, he does a slight double-take— ]
[ dutch has no idea what to expect, either. they probably should have exchanged descriptions or pictures or whatever —but it's fine, she just takes her sweet time in getting to the bar, figuring that she'll approach whoever looks like they're waiting for someone else. turns out that she doesn't have to: he aproaches her first.
that works, too. ]
Yeah. Bellamy?
[ she's not burly and she's never been a soldier, her shoulders aren't broad —but there's plenty of swagger in the way she walks, although it's softened somewhat by the sway of her hips.
she lets her gaze linger on him for a moment, giving him a slow once-over, lips curling upward. that it's half-way between flirtatious and challenging is as much a defensive mechanism as it is genuine. ]
[ despite coming from space, bellamy isn't used to holovids or more complicated communication networks; he's more accustomed to picking up the radio than actually receiving a photo. but at least they've located each other, and he moves closer to lean against the counter beside her, by the liquid dispensers. ]
Yep, in the flesh. It's actually my first time hitting up the bar here, too. Glad to hear they have one, though.
[ he's struck by dutch's movements when she sidles in. it's a kind of fluid, predatory grace that he's seen in grounders, mostly: fighters, warriors, dancers. that appraising look and twist of her lips in return makes his skin prickle with unexpected self-consciousness, self-awareness. it's such a small thing, but it's still a sudden reminder of easier times: it feels like a literal eon since he's gotten to do something as simple as check out a new pretty face and vice versa. once upon a time, bellamy used to tear his way through the camp like a fox in the henhouse, falling into bed with whoever wanted to warm his tent that evening. now, it's been... god, who knows how long. he's not used to it anymore.
he's still good enough at sounding casual, though, his voice loose and conversational as he nods towards the dispensers: ]
So, tell me this: are we one hundred percent sure the liquor here is compatible and won't kill us?
[ dutch was taught three things, growing up: how to marry into royalty, how to dance, and how to kill. hers is the fluid grace of someone equally adept at dancing and at fighting, although the truth is and always will be that she's done a lot more fighting and killing than she has dancing.
there's a moment when she almost expects him to freeze up under her gaze —but he doesn't. he nods, instead, voice loose and casual enough, and her lips quirk up another notch. it isn't approval, but it isn't not. ]
Are we sure? No.
[ but dutch has been here maybe a day; he best believe that she's tried to get decent alcohol from the dispensers and he best believe that the stuff that's in bottles behind the bar is definitely better, no matter how it burns going down. so instead of going to the dispenser, she leans over the bar and fishes for a bottle and two glasses, pouring them each a drink.
[ he doesn't sound chiding, just— wearily resigned. life feels like it's gone a long, long way from 'whatever the hell we want.' but bellamy watches, bemused, as dutch leans right over the bar and grabs the drinks for them. he lifts the glass after she slides it to him, tilting it back-and-forth, eyeing the strange bright translucence of the liquid. he remembers moonshine run off from old engines, cooked up from vegetation on the ground, or made from algae back on the ark. strong enough that it was practically blinding. ]
Least we can serve ourselves instead of needing to argue with a robot bartender or the ship AI or something. Alright. Bottoms up.
[ he clinks the glass against hers — hopefully they've got toasts, wherever she's from — and doesn't hesitate before taking the jump and taking a deep drain of his drink.
and it slams into him like a truck, with a burn that sears and warms on its way down. and. it's good. for one, it's actually a real bottle and real vintage (even if an alien one) and not the cheap, half-toxic concoctions he's had most of his life. marveling: ]
[ it's something to get used to. hey, at least the first text he got didn't contain the words "anal astronaut" because that is definitely something that happened to dutch. ]
that sounds like a problem unless you're the nerd type who likes that sort of thing
If nothing else these communication issues have made me a lot of new friends. Many of which have now seen me naked in one way or another, but I'm not mad about it.
What about you? Any embarrassing details floating around where they shouldn't be?
[ It is weird, but he's kind of getting used to it. The trick to it is not to think about it too much, which he's... not great at, but at least he's got plenty to focus on instead of going in circles on that one. ]
[ Of course Poe was going to make good on the promises he made before he went out there. And while there's still plenty to do on the flip side once the dust finally settles, obviously he was going to check in over the comms and make sure that his pilots were back safe, getting back to Dutch in person is something he bumps to the top of that priority list as soon as he can manage it.
Things are still precarious, they're stuck in a bad spot and they can't afford to let their guard down just yet, but hopefully the hardest part is over. They'll have more assessments and plenty of repairs to do with what supplies they've got on board but they'll get to that.
And once he does find her, whether that's on the flight deck or in a corridor or wherever else, he's going to pull her into a heated kiss before anything else, fueled by lingering adrenaline and relief and feelings that he hasn't put a name to. ]
[ the battle's not over, the war's not won yet-- except the battle is winding down and there's no actual war as far as dutch can tell, just a bunch of hotheads thinking the danaë's an easy target. there's something that feels almost like pride curling in dutch's stomach at having proven them wrong.
it's not over yet, but it's over enough and when she spots poe, her pace picks up. so does his-- and then he's pulling her into a kiss, all adrenaline and sweat and relief, and dutch sinks her hands in his hair and kisses him back with all she's got, pouring her own adrenaline into the kiss, that sense of almost-pride, the exhaustion and relief and rush of it all, too. ]
[ It's far from the first time Poe's swept her into a kiss, or that she's pulled herself into him, her fingers sliding through curls damp from sweat or a recent shower, both of them feeling the rush that comes along with it. It's not even the first time he's had so many other feelings about it, things that went beyond the tangible, but this one feels different somehow. And he could come up with a dozen different excuses as to why, but he's not thinking about why he's wrapping his arms around her and kissing her again after the barest of pauses for a breath, and not barreling right through to the usual next step that involves eager, hungry touches and tugging at clothes.
Not that he doesn't want to, this just feels right, holding her like this, as long as she'll let him even when his mouth does slip away from hers and his face is pressed against the side of her neck. Just letting the solid warmth and scent of her completely drown out everything else for a few seconds.
It had been a long fight out there, knowing that they were fighting on the ship too, and that he couldn't be in two places at once, he had to stay where he was most effective. Not that he didn't trust her to take care of things on her end, she's damn good at that. Still. ]
I hope you're not going to try to get out of that date you promised me.
Who said anything about a date? [ but despite the words, her tone is warm and she isn't moving away from where his face presses against the side of her neck. in fact, one of her hands slides to the back of his neck, firm and solid, holding him there.
they're both holding on. remembering that it isn't all battles, isn't all fighting and war.
("you've gotten soft", khlyen's voice tells her at the back of her head. in turn, dutch tells it to fuck off.) ]
[ Poe's not quite ready to let go of her yet, and he does tip his head slightly to trail a few scattered kisses against her neck before he's pulling back slightly, giving her some space if she wants to instigate some kind of composure here. Personally he's thinking he would be fine going without that for a little while, before they dive right back into all the problems that need to be dealt with in the aftermath. ]
I'm not going to let you off that easy.
[ There's a familiar gleam in his eyes, though that warmth has only grown ever since he met her and this happened. It's still there even when his expression sobers. ]
I'm good. Maybe a little tired. [ 'Maybe.' He also might be a little singed and a little bloody, but it's nothing to worry about. ] You?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
@ the bar
should've gotten a physical description, he realises. and with a name like dutch, maybe he was expecting something else: some burly ex-soldier accustomed to fighting aliens. some swaggering spacer with broad shoulders.
instead, once he sees the woman that enters the hall and makes a beeline straight for the bar, he does a slight double-take— ]
Uh, hey. You Dutch?
no subject
that works, too. ]
Yeah. Bellamy?
[ she's not burly and she's never been a soldier, her shoulders aren't broad —but there's plenty of swagger in the way she walks, although it's softened somewhat by the sway of her hips.
she lets her gaze linger on him for a moment, giving him a slow once-over, lips curling upward. that it's half-way between flirtatious and challenging is as much a defensive mechanism as it is genuine. ]
no subject
Yep, in the flesh. It's actually my first time hitting up the bar here, too. Glad to hear they have one, though.
[ he's struck by dutch's movements when she sidles in. it's a kind of fluid, predatory grace that he's seen in grounders, mostly: fighters, warriors, dancers. that appraising look and twist of her lips in return makes his skin prickle with unexpected self-consciousness, self-awareness. it's such a small thing, but it's still a sudden reminder of easier times: it feels like a literal eon since he's gotten to do something as simple as check out a new pretty face and vice versa. once upon a time, bellamy used to tear his way through the camp like a fox in the henhouse, falling into bed with whoever wanted to warm his tent that evening. now, it's been... god, who knows how long. he's not used to it anymore.
he's still good enough at sounding casual, though, his voice loose and conversational as he nods towards the dispensers: ]
So, tell me this: are we one hundred percent sure the liquor here is compatible and won't kill us?
no subject
there's a moment when she almost expects him to freeze up under her gaze —but he doesn't. he nods, instead, voice loose and casual enough, and her lips quirk up another notch. it isn't approval, but it isn't not. ]
Are we sure? No.
[ but dutch has been here maybe a day; he best believe that she's tried to get decent alcohol from the dispensers and he best believe that the stuff that's in bottles behind the bar is definitely better, no matter how it burns going down. so instead of going to the dispenser, she leans over the bar and fishes for a bottle and two glasses, pouring them each a drink.
she pushes one toward him. ]
Live a little.
no subject
[ he doesn't sound chiding, just— wearily resigned. life feels like it's gone a long, long way from 'whatever the hell we want.' but bellamy watches, bemused, as dutch leans right over the bar and grabs the drinks for them. he lifts the glass after she slides it to him, tilting it back-and-forth, eyeing the strange bright translucence of the liquid. he remembers moonshine run off from old engines, cooked up from vegetation on the ground, or made from algae back on the ark. strong enough that it was practically blinding. ]
Least we can serve ourselves instead of needing to argue with a robot bartender or the ship AI or something. Alright. Bottoms up.
[ he clinks the glass against hers — hopefully they've got toasts, wherever she's from — and doesn't hesitate before taking the jump and taking a deep drain of his drink.
and it slams into him like a truck, with a burn that sears and warms on its way down. and. it's good. for one, it's actually a real bottle and real vintage (even if an alien one) and not the cheap, half-toxic concoctions he's had most of his life. marveling: ]
Shit— Somebody had good taste.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
& closed, or yours to wrap!
misc; misfire
[ --fffsst, audio ] root navigation of this thing.
[ sudden clanking noise ] Shit. [ boop, no more audio. ]
Operator. Command prompt. Menu. Enter.
👀👀👀💯
honestly, the sort of dumb nerdy shit that johnny's be trying ]
how's that working out for you?
no subject
But hey: progress, a response. ]
It's great, actually, I'm collecting so much data it's coming out of my eyes.
no subject
that sounds like a problem
unless you're the nerd type who likes that sort of thing
no subject
I'm a nerd aficionado. Why, you're just not curious about anything? Or did I connect to a local?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
voice.
no subject
Sure.
no subject
no subject
[ she's not a fan of the dreams, but she has been dreaming, so clearly she's been sleeping. ]
Are you?
[ this is not dutch checking in on him in return!! this is dutch prodding back. that's it. ]
no subject
[ 🙃 ]
Used to it, at least. Not sleeping, I mean, not whatever else this shit is.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
text; un: flyboy
What about you? Any embarrassing details floating around where they shouldn't be?
no subject
nothing embarrassing about nudity
[ well, she's seen the other him naked. but that's neither here nor there. moving on ]
if there were, would i tell you?
no subject
[ How terrible, right? ]
You could. Probably depends on how personal it is.
no subject
and if i said i want to compare?
[ would that work as a pick-up line, or is that making it weird?
no comment on the latter ]
no subject
[ It is weird, but he's kind of getting used to it. The trick to it is not to think about it too much, which he's... not great at, but at least he's got plenty to focus on instead of going in circles on that one. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
action | after the battle
Things are still precarious, they're stuck in a bad spot and they can't afford to let their guard down just yet, but hopefully the hardest part is over. They'll have more assessments and plenty of repairs to do with what supplies they've got on board but they'll get to that.
And once he does find her, whether that's on the flight deck or in a corridor or wherever else, he's going to pull her into a heated kiss before anything else, fueled by lingering adrenaline and relief and feelings that he hasn't put a name to. ]
no subject
it's not over yet, but it's over enough and when she spots poe, her pace picks up. so does his-- and then he's pulling her into a kiss, all adrenaline and sweat and relief, and dutch sinks her hands in his hair and kisses him back with all she's got, pouring her own adrenaline into the kiss, that sense of almost-pride, the exhaustion and relief and rush of it all, too. ]
no subject
Not that he doesn't want to, this just feels right, holding her like this, as long as she'll let him even when his mouth does slip away from hers and his face is pressed against the side of her neck. Just letting the solid warmth and scent of her completely drown out everything else for a few seconds.
It had been a long fight out there, knowing that they were fighting on the ship too, and that he couldn't be in two places at once, he had to stay where he was most effective. Not that he didn't trust her to take care of things on her end, she's damn good at that. Still. ]
I hope you're not going to try to get out of that date you promised me.
no subject
they're both holding on. remembering that it isn't all battles, isn't all fighting and war.
("you've gotten soft", khlyen's voice tells her at the back of her head. in turn, dutch tells it to fuck off.) ]
All right?
no subject
I'm not going to let you off that easy.
[ There's a familiar gleam in his eyes, though that warmth has only grown ever since he met her and this happened. It's still there even when his expression sobers. ]
I'm good. Maybe a little tired. [ 'Maybe.' He also might be a little singed and a little bloody, but it's nothing to worry about. ] You?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)