Kat tossed a toothbrush onto the ante pile and sat back. "Your play, Hot Dog."
He reached a hand back and rummaged in his bag. He paused, then rummaged again, more frantically. "Frak." More rummaging.
"You have anything to bet, or are you out?" Flat Top was checking the clock on the wall. He had CAP in 30 minutes, and was cutting it close enough without this kind of delay.
"No, no. I'm..." He stopped. Wonder was painted across his face. "Can I bet a secret?"
"The color of your underwear is not a secret and I don't want to know the percentage increase in the number of chicks who will sleep with you since you got your wings. I'm still never going to be one of them." Kat snickered at Racetrack's bored tone and nodded in agreement.
"No, this one is good. Two of 'em, even. One about Starbuck, the other about the CAG."
Eyebrows shot up around the table. Everyone know the secret about the CAG and Starbuck, but aside from that, secrets on the Galactica were an endangered species that was very close to extinction. The few left were jealously guarded.
"Alright, fine. Two secrets, added to the pile. Let's get a move on, Racetrack." Flattop tossed in a pair of unworn socks with an expression that clearly said those two secrets had better be worth the loss of warm feet.
Racetrack followed quickly and they laid out their hands.
"Wooo! Full colors, baby. Read it and weep." Kat raked in her winnings. "I'm feeling generous today, Hot Dog. Go ahead and tell everyone these secrets." She knew they wouldn't stay secret for long anyways.
"Alright, first secret." Hot Dog picked up cards and started reshuffling them. "Starbuck can gargle the name of every kind of liquor ever produced on Tauron, in alphabetical order." He looked around the table. Kat was not the only one unimpressed. "Hand to the Gods! I heard her do it in the head. She made a bet with Apollo that she could, and she did!"
That was more interesting. That she'd done it on a bet with Apollo. "Okay," Kat prompted. "Now, the CAG. Out with it."
"She won, so he had to honestly answer one question for her." He paused for drama.
"Hot Dog...." Kat packed as much threat in those two words as she could. Flat top was perched on the edge of his chair, ready to run as soon as the words were out of Hot Dog's mouth, but not willing to move until then.
Knowing that he'd dragged it out as long as possible, he gave the rest of the secret in a single breath. "She asked how he got his callsign, and he said it was partly because he'd been pre-law in college, and partly," his eyes glittered with glee, "because he'd refused to sleep with his flight instructor on the grounds that it was unethical, and she figured that if she could worship his body, she could at least tease him about it."
Flattop's eyes bugged out for a second before he bolted. Racetrack tossed back the last of her drink. Kat shook her head and raked up the rest of her winnings. "Frakking Apollo," she said.
"Another hand?" Hot Dog looked between the two remaining pilots.
"Are you kidding? Those have got to be your best secrets, and your bag of tricks is empty." Racetrack eyed the limp bag hanging from the back of his chair and waved as Kat walked away without another word.
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timeasmymeasure
The Naming of A CAG
Date: 2011-04-05 04:20 am (UTC)He reached a hand back and rummaged in his bag. He paused, then rummaged again, more frantically. "Frak." More rummaging.
"You have anything to bet, or are you out?" Flat Top was checking the clock on the wall. He had CAP in 30 minutes, and was cutting it close enough without this kind of delay.
"No, no. I'm..." He stopped. Wonder was painted across his face. "Can I bet a secret?"
"The color of your underwear is not a secret and I don't want to know the percentage increase in the number of chicks who will sleep with you since you got your wings. I'm still never going to be one of them." Kat snickered at Racetrack's bored tone and nodded in agreement.
"No, this one is good. Two of 'em, even. One about Starbuck, the other about the CAG."
Eyebrows shot up around the table. Everyone know the secret about the CAG and Starbuck, but aside from that, secrets on the Galactica were an endangered species that was very close to extinction. The few left were jealously guarded.
"Alright, fine. Two secrets, added to the pile. Let's get a move on, Racetrack." Flattop tossed in a pair of unworn socks with an expression that clearly said those two secrets had better be worth the loss of warm feet.
Racetrack followed quickly and they laid out their hands.
"Wooo! Full colors, baby. Read it and weep." Kat raked in her winnings. "I'm feeling generous today, Hot Dog. Go ahead and tell everyone these secrets." She knew they wouldn't stay secret for long anyways.
"Alright, first secret." Hot Dog picked up cards and started reshuffling them. "Starbuck can gargle the name of every kind of liquor ever produced on Tauron, in alphabetical order." He looked around the table. Kat was not the only one unimpressed. "Hand to the Gods! I heard her do it in the head. She made a bet with Apollo that she could, and she did!"
That was more interesting. That she'd done it on a bet with Apollo. "Okay," Kat prompted. "Now, the CAG. Out with it."
"She won, so he had to honestly answer one question for her." He paused for drama.
"Hot Dog...." Kat packed as much threat in those two words as she could. Flat top was perched on the edge of his chair, ready to run as soon as the words were out of Hot Dog's mouth, but not willing to move until then.
Knowing that he'd dragged it out as long as possible, he gave the rest of the secret in a single breath. "She asked how he got his callsign, and he said it was partly because he'd been pre-law in college, and partly," his eyes glittered with glee, "because he'd refused to sleep with his flight instructor on the grounds that it was unethical, and she figured that if she could worship his body, she could at least tease him about it."
Flattop's eyes bugged out for a second before he bolted. Racetrack tossed back the last of her drink. Kat shook her head and raked up the rest of her winnings. "Frakking Apollo," she said.
"Another hand?" Hot Dog looked between the two remaining pilots.
"Are you kidding? Those have got to be your best secrets, and your bag of tricks is empty." Racetrack eyed the limp bag hanging from the back of his chair and waved as Kat walked away without another word.