Log:Black Squadron: Take Jess to the Beach

Black squad enjoys mandatory fun time at the beach

OOC Date: December 22, 2020
Location: Silver Sea Beach, Hanna City, Chandrila
Participants: Black Squadron, Ektor, Bors Thul, Jessika Pava, Poe Dameron

A black flag marked the spot in the waning hours of a warm evening. A canvas of orange and purple hue cloud the sky, and streaks of gold mark the routes ships take to reach the void. A distant, yet nonthreatening storm of heat lightning hang off the coast by about twenty miles with frequent flashes as the system's star sets, and the night life at the beach is conceived.

Their spot, the one marked by the flag, is a canvas covered location on the beach with a single table, a grill, cooler with drek to cook, and a burning fire in a designated pit that crackles JUST loud enough to be heard over the chorus of tide waves washing in. People began to segue to dark shapes walking the beach, shrouding this location into a false sense of privacy, but it felt nice all the same.

Ektor takes a meandering path over the sand toward that designated 'mandatory fun' zone. His uneven, wandering gait could be due to his lump, the uneven sand, a prior state of inebriation, laziness, or any combination thereof. A bottle already hands from his fingers, as the squadron's resident bomber drawls, "Whatever that smell is, I gotta have some," with a crooked grin. He's in trunks, with a lousy little Czerka holdout pistol sticking out the back of his waistband, and a garish shirt, hanging open in front.

Floppy hat? Check. Glareshades? Check. Modest, but oggle-worthy bikini top? Check. Sarong? Check. Jessika Pava arrives to her own proverbial party late and in style, fingers wrapped around the neck of a bottle of brandy she'd purchased a few days ago in preparation for this impromptu mission being led by General Poe Dameron. Black Squadron isn't deployed to some secret installation or out into the dark of space this time, though, and she's not in some frumpy flightsuit with some drek-eating pirate trying to shoot her into smithereens with their outdated X-Wing. This time, it's bare feet, little clothing, and warm sand next to a beach. "Ektor, do you see this?" Jessika asks it as she approaches the blatantly-armed, probably drunk bomber pilot.

"Do you see where we are? Do you smell that smell? Notice the absence of trash. Take in the wafting scent of poisonous coals that will make everything taste better. Enjoy the sight of booze not concocted out of a rusted barrel and an old boot. This.. is a beach."

Arriving in robes, first and foremost, Bors is straight of spine, correct in posture, and set with his ever present grin to go with the gold monocle tucked at his eye. Cowled, caped, robed, in full attire for the House of Thul upon his appearance at the gathering spot. Behind him a porter in banner house colors walks, carrying a parcel strapped to his back and only aiding the man in looking quite hoit. Very toit even as well.

"Good day, Lords and Lady! I am gladdened that I might find myself appointed to stand with my compatriots of duty as comrade as well!" his porter moving to withdraw the components of a collapsible beach chair, towel... Manka fur beach blanket... The whole nine yards. "Anyone care for a little something from New Alderaan?" motioning to a basket that could only contain nibblies also brought out by the porter.

"Good, the gang's all here," Poe issues, stepping from the confines of the dining fly that's been strung up between two palm trees. The canvas lightly fills with the coastal breeze then deflates again with soft noises, but that's not the sound that dominates in those moments that follow. It's the clicking of a lighter before a WOOOOOOOSH of flames elevate skyward and Poe is just dexterous enough to avoid catching himself aflame. One crisis averted. He quickly fumbles for the control of the grill top and folds it into place to contain the heat of the fueled charcoal now.

Poe is barefoot, wearing rich guy shorts and a short-sleeved button up shirt in a spring-like light blue. His hair was untamed and messy, and his face hosted the shadow of a forming beard. Like Ektor, Poe was paranoid enough to carry too, a DL-44 clipped to his lower back and upon his belt; the tail of his shirt was hung up on the pistol grip.

Poe turned on some music but kept it low. "What did you bring from New Alderaan?"

When Poe regarded the others, he gave Jess a short stare and upnodded, but said nothing more than that. Ektor got an endearing slap to the shoulder and Bors was offered a handshake.

Ektor turns his eye and dumb smile on Jessika when the Major asks if he 'sees this'. "Oh, I see it. Nice view, yeah?" He was seeing the modest but ogle-worthy bikini. He sniffs the air when prompted, peers at the fancy booze when directed, and answers defensively, "Hey, that boot was *barely* even used. But yeah. Sure, this.." a lazy gesture at the idyllic scenery around them. "I guess it ain't too bad." Then there's, "Buh-Bors! As long as 'a little something from New Alderaan' ain't what's under your robe, yeah?" he cracks with a chuckle. And then Poe. "Heeeeey," he grins, offering the CO a bottle of Tion's third finest rust-and-boot-brewed swill.

Lifting her right hand up, Jessika's fingers seize the right stem of her glareshades so she can lower the large, eye-hiding lenses to glance at Poe Dameron over the top of them. "How much accelerant did you add to that?" It's in that technical-know-how kind of 'do you know what you're doing?' tone that she asks Poe, wondering if the man thought for two seconds about how much he needed rather than just dousing the fuel source some, hesitating, and then dousing it twice as long just for effect. Sometimes she thinks if she'd let him anywhere near the booster rocket that he'd used at D'Qar, he'd have blown himself up putting way too much fuel into it. She fixes the glareshades with her middle fingertip bracing against the nose bridge and pushing them back into place.

Luckily for Ektor, Jessika's attention is on Poe and not what Ektor is remarking is a nice view, because when she turns her attention back to him it's for the briefest of seconds. "Ektor, anything worn once is too used when it comes to boots." He remarks it's 'not bad', and Jessika stares at him blankly for a moment. The floppy hat and the glareshades really mute the effect of the look when her eyebrows and everything else can't be seen. There's an aura about her, though. Something that projects a sixth-sense kind of feeling. And then her gaze arrives at Bors Thul. "No. No no. No no no." She doesn't even laugh at Ektor's well-delivered pun. "Whatever this is, it stops. Send your servant away. Take off eighty-five percent of whatever that is. You're at the beach, not a to-do with the galaxy's finest. And lose the monocle! You want a sunburn on your eyelids?"

The handshake is accepted, but further Bors moves to turn the motion into a one armed hug while shaking Poe's hand, "Nay and fie to formality we hold no court and stand as companions, not commander and charge, M'lord Dameron!" if he hadn't been shrugged off there is even a heavy pat to the back before he steps away. The flare of the grill? Unnoticed. Assumed to be the correct thing. Cooking his own food? What is that? That's for the House Staff while he attends court matters by Bail!

"Nay, naught so tawdry, Ektor. Lest those who were of such inclination as finding that particular part of form to their liking our small and close fellowship here today might be flooded by my potential admirers." a gesture to the porter who brings the basket over. A carefully wrapped package set at the grill. "That is a bit of wild nerf, hunted by myself with some difficulty - but butchered by a proper hand. Slain this morning, prepared and brought hence." several small platters removed next showing various pastries. "Tarts and confections that may be enjoyable in mix with drink and sup."

Jessika's demands, they loft his brows "My bannerman shall make exit once all is prepared. Fear thee not my self shall be displayed - far to hot a place for this form of dress at length." still grinning while the porter sets to task and moves to Bors, the man's arms opening for the robes to be removed, cape, cowl, opened and drawn away to show so immensely gauzy and fancifully material crafted board shorts of dusky charcoal, red banded and beset with golden geometric patterns.

"Happy, now, oh unattainable star?"

Weathered with greetings alike, Poe seems amiable and amused all the same with the banter back and forth. Even the hoity toity Lord of the bunch gets a raised brow at the reveal of expensive nerf steaks. Well that put Poe's burgers to shame, but let's be honest; it was probably for the best! "This looks great," Poe says, mirroring a common phrase from the late Snap who often said the same thing, sometimes in varying degrees of sarcasm. Poe's tone lacked that.

"Well, let's get drinks poured.. and Xer are you any good at the grill-- don't worry, /Jess/, I only put enough accelerant as needed.." To show evidence of this, he opened the top of the grill to reveal an inferno of flames that immediately climbed out at a dull roar. Poe promptly closed it. "..see." His eyes shoot to the others. Xer could handle it? Yeah, Xer could handle it.

"Good stuff, Bors...and thanks." Poe says to the porter, preparing their area. "I figure with the tempo lately, we needed some time to kick back and just be.. us."

"I can handle the DREK outta that, yeah? Where's the rest of the accelerant?" Ektor answers Poe with a totally trustworthy smile. He adds a hoot and wolf whistle when Bors disrobes, admitting, "No lie, Buh-Bors? I got no idea what you just said, but you said it *good*, yeah?" A swift of fine booze and he starts toward the inferno grill.

It's a good thing she's wearing the glareshades, because if she wasn't, the force with which she rolls her eyes at Lord Bors Thul might have caused them to roll right out into the sand to take a trip around the planet. "I changed my mind, you can keep all that on." She waves dismissively at him before turning to Poe, who does his best to convince her that he only put as much as was necessary. Maybe it's the measured way he meets her gaze or the steadiness of his tone, but aside from a slight creasing of her eyes at the corners as she really, really studies him, she says nothing else about Poe's claims. Even when the grill lid is removed and the flames are so intense that she can feel the heat roiling off of it from where she is. In the end, she believes him.

"Here, I brought this," Jessika thrusts it out in offer, bottle label on display. Some fruity sort of brandy, and exactly the kind of thing she'll want to drink probably more than anyone else, since hard, bitter, eye-watering liquor is not her kind of fare. He asks Ektor to take care of the grill and then Ektor's talking about accelerant and Jessika wonders which one of them is going to the emergency room tonight and if she needs to have a doctor on call just in case. "Ektor, it's for cooking food, not blowing us up." Bottle of brandy handed over, Jessika reaches down to the knot at her hip to deprive herself of the sarong, leaving herself clad only in the bikini and showing off what all the climbing in and out of an X-Wing does for her athletic legs. There's a few quick flicks of the fabric itself, as if that'll help spread it out more, and then Jessika is applying it to the sand. While there's still some sun left, she's going to take advantage of it. Dropping the floppy hat to the sand, Jessika sits herself on the sarong and then reclines back to stretch out. "All missions should be like this. The whole galaxy would be at peace already."

"Nay Jessika. You have made your demand, Nay! Thy request and now thine eyes shall sup upon all that you do not wish to." Bors moves to a manka fur set out by the porter before the bannerman's exit to some other part of the beach until called for again, leaving a glass in Bors's hand while the noble gives Ektor his brightest grin,

"My lord Ektor that you are so brazen in your honesty that you would be found utterly mired in the nature of my speech and how it befuddles never fails to be a delight, I mean this honestly and without reproach or jibe. Truly." winking and... He still has the monocle in

Someone has to class this place up, with the Inferno Twins and Miss Showin' Off To Half of Chandrilla. Really. Must he -always- do the heavy lifting?

Poe set to drinks while the others got settled, and he paused only to point out the accelerant to Xer. "Over there, pal."

Three glasses were set out, and Poe added ice to his. Poe used the bottle Xer brought him of Whiskey for the two of them, then filled Jessika's glass of the Jogan fruit brandy. He passed the whiskey to Xer, the brandy to Jess: "Here," he says to her, to get her attention.

The bottle of expensive brandy is brought to Bors, and Poe fills his glass for him. "There we go.." He says and sets the expensive brandy aside. He lifts his own glass of whiskey, the ice tapping the glass when he drank.

Poe didn't seem to have a care in the world. So much so, he just dropped down into the sand, slow at first to favor his bad leg (the one Terex had blasted on Taris). "Ugh," He manages, mainly from the pain from transitioning down into the sand. "Dunno Jess, just seems too..." He trailed off, ending the observation with a drink. He wouldn't say it though. This was what they'd fought for, right? Poe glances back at Xer, then over to Bors.

"You forgot the pause, Buh-Bors," Ektor informs the nobleman. "You said 'my Lord Ektor', when the way errybody else says it is 'my LORD, Ektor'. Usually with 'what's wrong with you?', yeah? And a look. The Jess look,' he clarifies, as he swagger-limps toward the grill and picks up the two-pronged skewer for steaks in one hand and the burger flipper in the other hand to flip and twirl them like a holo-star gunfighter. He fumbles the flourish a bit, but doesn't drop them in the sand. So, probably the best way that was going to turn out. He sticks the skewer in a steak to free up a hand for the whiskey. "Here's to us, and them like us, yeah?" A merry swallow of the alcohol and he mutters, "Let's start with the good stuff..." Being Ektor, he of course thinks the burgers are the 'good stuff's.

Jessika rouses from her stretched out position on the sargon, right knee bent and jutted up into the air, when Poe's 'here' beckons for her attention. Slipping her elbow underneath her, she sits up and stretches her other arm out to take the glass of fruity brandy. "Thanks," sounds slightly hollow into the depression of the glass itelf, echoing off the crystalline clear walls and against the tilted, amber liquid. She takes a healthy drink from it, then glances towards Poe once he's settled. "What, too nice?" She cranes her head backwards and around, looking towards Ektor and the grill upside down rather than trying to turn herself around to do it. "No special seasoning for me, Ektor. I don't want spice with my food, please."

Glass taken and lifted in toast to all three, Bors swallow is sized for the quartet of them and not just himself. Drinking their health while he sinks down onto the fur, legs crossed and hand resting on his knee. "Nay lord Ektor, I spoke true. A man who puts himself above others and risks life and flesh in quest to put evil to its heels an caste it back to shadow. Lord." looking pointedly to Ektor, then Poe and at last to Jessika, "Lord, and Lady." smiling all the brighter. He comments not on the seasoning, he is not the chef - it is not his place to dictate to the man who cooks for him on such an occasion. Or perhaps he's really, truly, insanely trusting.

"We fight so that those who cannot are granted their chance to have this, M'lord. Feel no trepidation or even out of sorts. You may be from a city, or even farm country I ask forgiveness that I have been so remiss as not to ask after your pasts. Of either of you. Whether you tell or say fie to me for my pestering questions. I have been rude. But be not disquieted, Poe. You recline in the fruits of your labors, like ours, that have left our hearts and souls marked forever after. Mother grant strength to still feel compassion and receive it. Father the patience to be able to look upon it each night and sleep peacefully."

"No, it's not that." Poe says, a touch of melancholy. "Just seems empty. You go into a fight knowing you have your friends beside you. Surviving it, and returning to a place like this; a place they deserved to find it absent them. It almost hurts more than the reason we went to fight in the first place." Poe sounded bitter, but his mind was heavy with the cost of the war and the faces tied to each action.

He buried the sad tune to the rattle of ice and whiskey, tilting his glass up to numb the pain of the memories and find solace in the constant beat of the ocean's heart. The waves were nice. Poe rose back up with a grunt, having to pause after attaining a knee to 'stand on'. More effort honed his rise to both feet and he stretched. Poe was too young to be too old for something.

"Refills anyone?" He poured one for Xer, because Poe figured the pirate needed one already.

"No lie? I just like blowing drek up," Ektor answers Bors with a lazy shrug and an easy grin. Jessika's objection of not wanting spice on her burger wins a laugh and deadpan answer, "You're only saying that cause you ain't never had it yet. The Kessel Special, I call it." The inferno grill is opened with another roaring gout of flames. A half dozen patties are deposited without Ektor's hair or shirt combusting. But only barely. "They'll be done in a couple minutes." More accelerant. More flames. "Make that one minute. Say, can somebody-" he was about to ask for a refill, buy Poe has him covered. "Thanks, Pretty Boy."

Raising her head and angling it towards Poe, Jessika doesn't respond for a few long moments. "The best thing we can do is enjoy these moments. We may not feel comfortable enjoying them. We may not even want to enjoy them. Not enjoying them is letting down those that fought for us to be here." Jessika finally does crane herself half around from her leaned position to look at Bors. "I dare you to say one sentence that sounds like what I'm saying and not what they taught you in those fancy schools. Say 'I enjoy being here with you guys.'" Gauntlet thrown down, Jessika turns her attention towards Ektor. "This may surprise you, but I've had spice with food before, and I can say that I totally didn't like it." She expects he'll just go on to say that she's never had HIS kind of spice seasoning. Rather than head that off at the pass, she simply takes another drink of the brandy in hand.

A sniff to Jessika now when she casts her challenge at him. Brow raised but the monocle remaining firmly pinched before his eye, Bors shrugs and states, simply enough, "I find being here with you all enjoyable." lifting his glass and finishing off the last of it before the glass is rested where it can be refilled.

"Personally I take all I can of leisure. To not enjoy what is saved and protected is to be akin to miser counting credit chits behind a desk and casting curses onto any who would be given to joy."

"I guess," Poe answers Jess, not truly convinced out of his mindset. He seemed to shift gears though, putting idle hands to work to refill. "No problem, buddy," Poe answered Xer. Jessika's glass was seen to, then Lord Thul's. By the end of this circuit, Poe took a spot on the bench, finding it easier to sit there opposed to the long drop to the sand.

While the others returned to their banter, he turned his dark gaze to the night stars as evening took form from dusk. The slow moving lights in the sky were no doubt the orbiting fleet. Poe's vision blurred slightly due to the intake of whiskey. The sound of Xer's cooking managed to pull him back to the moment, and he turns his head to watch the flames rise and listen to the meat sizzle.

"You had glitterstim on a burger, before?" Ektor looks to Jess with smiling surprise. Yes, Ektor, the HIGHLY ILLEGAL drug is what she meant by spice. "Well rekk me, didn't figure you for the type. Arright, then." Burgers flipped and extracted, "I got a half dozen up. Who wants a double, yeah?" Bors' effort to speak plainly gets a crooked grin and congratulation, while he 'whispers' (clearly audible) to Jess, "Now make him say 'drek'."

"Not on a burger," Jessika replies, perhaps more solemn than she needs to be in replying, and maybe a little too quiet. "The POINT REMAINS, EKTOR," Jessika raises her voice, just to be sure he does hear that one. Poe refills her glass. Jessika takes another drink of it. She rises from the sarong after that, balancing the drink in one hand and other used to dust what particulates have gathered against her skin in the process. "See, I knew you could do it, Bors. Precise, to the point." She knife hands in his direction. "We need more of that." Sand shifts and kicks underneath her feet on the way to where the grill is set up, intent on getting one of the prepared burgers before they were all devoured. "What are the chances I get something under burnt to a crisp?" She jibes at Ektor, clearly not serious and more poking fun at his prolific use of the accelerant to make fire as much as fire can be made.

"We are as yet in a combat situation, Oh Lady of Scathing Eye." Bors tuts and lifts his drink in toast to her, "While my tongue is clipped whilst engaging the foeman with my every focus and intent to bring glory and honor to the names of my comrades, I shant be chained. My meaning is plain, my words properly honeyed. It is your palate that suffers. I should ere be of inclination that thou has raised such ire to my words that it be born of an inability to articulate with such eloquence in articulation. Bound as thou art in martial effusion." giving Jessika a sweet smile before he wets his lips with his drink.

"My lord Ektor, I trust you fully, but request no substance of narcotic, barbiturate or other form be used upon my sup. Please."

And so it started, the supper for the evening. A mixture of burgers, and nerf steaks, pastries, and other delectable things that were bound to be the topic of the early morning PT (for those required to wake and participate). Black Squad's evening went unhindered, the crackling of a fire pit and clanking of glasses as drinks were had, and joy found in the team's presence, fancy words or no. They could be all noble and drek, too.