(2015-11-06) Guns, Beards and Lists
Guns, Beards and Lists
Summary: It's all over the place
Date: 11.6.2015
Related: Related Logs (Say None if there aren't any; don't leave blank. You have to use full URLs, like http://mushname.wikidot.com/logtitle)

SGA Club House

This large building dominates the center of the complex. It serves several purposes. First and for most it is a gathering spot where the apartment residents can socialize and gather for various reasons. There is a large sitting area, with sofas and chairs surrouding a large marble coffee table. They all sit within a comfortable distance of a large fireplace which has a large flatscreen TV hanging above it. Adjacent to that is a small kitchette area, separated by a marble topped bar with barstools sitting in front of it.

On the other side of the large gathering area is a small office area, accessed by a windowed door where the manager and apartment staff did there business for the day. There is also another windowed door that leads to a small fitness room with the usual workout machines as well as some nautilus machines and free weights.

It's late enough in the evening that the sun has went to bed but not so late that people have turned in for the evening. As far as days go it wasn't a bad one, no rain and pleasantly cool. The drones have yet to make an appearance and no hostiles were seen either. Things aren't going bad for the survivors in their new place so far.

Sitting on the floor around the large coffee table are Piper and the children, the latter of which are already showing signs of sleepiness as they color quietly, a nice wind down routine before bedtime for them.

Dixie is standing guard at the moment, rifle over her shoulder, and hand resting on her pistol holster. She seems relaxed but at the same time, a coiled up spring ready to bounce into action at any moment. Bob did declare it as a drop off point with guards, and Dixie was one who was drawn up for look after internal security, so here she is in person. Sure, Piper and her brood may be taking time off, but she's there keeping an watchful eye and a close ear on everything outside.

Quinton's been gone most of the day. He was seen in the morning, but after that bye took off. There's been no official declaration that people can't go off alone, so he does. Now he finally returns, a bottle of bleach in each hand and a back pack stuffed. Dixie gets a smile as he passes her to go in with his catch, "Hey Darla." He seems to be getting a little better with names. The first letter seems to be match up more than not lately. Today the poet managed to slip on a sweater vest over his long sleeved shirt. He almost looks the part of a poet, if he only didn't have a gun strapped to him. Piper and her gaggle get a grin as he walks towards the counter. "Evening."

Terry's duty shift wasn't due to start for some time, so he figured he'd burn some time weight-training, having spent a good chunk of time leading up to now cleaning his weapons. The weather being what it is, he's dressed appropriately — sneakers, sweatpants, shirt, sweatshirt, sweatband. Currently, he's working up a good sweat, and staving off the chill of fall, by working the rack of free-weights in the fitness room. As folks pass his field of vision, he offers a quick wave, not missing a beat with his workout.

A crayon is retrieved from where it fell on the floor and set back on the table. Piper has been trying very hard in the past two weeks to get over her very rational fear of people trying to communicate verbally in mixed company. Most times it is a big miss, today though must be a good day though. At the arrival and greeting on Quinton she gives a slight wave "Hey." she says in her soft, silvery tone of voice. It's not much, but even one syllable with this many people around is better than she has ever done.

"Make certain the chamber of your weapon is clear upon entering," Dixie offers up helpfully to Quinton, as she draws upon her Corporal voice. "I ain't got time for UDs or people walking about with rounds in their chambers. Unwanted noise at night carries further than in the day. If you ain't a cocksure hero, and ain't running around with chambered rounds, have a good day and stay safe." She does offer Quinton a friendly smile and a nod as he passes, then it's leaning against the wall again. "Porkchop, it ain't Darla. It's Dixie. Think the flag from 'Bamy." Terry gets a nod, and that's about it, especially when she notes him working out.. "Congratulations Porkchop, you've had your name revoked. You're now Mutton. Terrance, I don't care if you formerly outranked me, you're now Porkchop, especially if you do not believe you're getting enough of a workout surviving already."

Quinton blinks, just giving Dixie an odd look. He does not do anything to his gun, that makes no sense to him. The odd looks turns to a frown, "Maybe I'll try harder if you started using my name." Or anything other that those awful nicknames. It's like he's stuck in JarHead or Full Metal Jacket. Without any of the good drama. As he sets the two jugs of bleach down Piper gets another smile at the greeting. And then the backpack comes off and he's unpacking a bunch of shoes(Boots and sneakers).

"Copy that, Darla." Terry responds, almost absentmindedly, switching from free-weights to the nearby heavy-bag. He begins to unload on it with a good variety of punches and kicks. Only now does he really begin to sweat, and once that happens he backs off of the heavy-bag and drops to the floor for some (wait for it..) mountain-climbers.

The interaction between Dixie and Quinton is watched and her amusement clear as nicknames are changed, she laughs when Terry perpetuates the conversation. When the poet sticks up for himself Piper gives him a discreet thumbs up. Tapping Caro she hands Quinn off to the oldest girl and gets to her feet, not the struggle is used to be and moves to help put the scavenged items Quinton is unpacking away.

Dixie doesn't seem to worry about Terry's comment about all. "Hope you ain't going to ask for more food, especially if slugging around with an anti-material rifle ain't working for you, Porkchop," she offers back to the law enforcement officer. She trails after Quinton, and shakes her head. "Quinton, you've got half a brain in your head," she offers. "I'm just trying to get some order going, Mutton. If you hear it, then I think it'll be repeated." The braiding and the flower in her hair must be affecting her brain, as she offers a friendly nudge with her shoulder in passing, even though she's moving to collect a bottle of water for herself.

"If there's food, and it's being offered, I won't say 'no', but I can be self-sufficient." Terry responds, not losing his stride, and trying not to come off as rude. He hops to his feet, and heads for the nearby weight rack to grab a set of kettlebells. More exercise! Feel the burn! "And the M82A1 isn't my only weapon. Got my little buddy 'Walther'…"

Is that a compliment? Quinton's pretty sure Dixie can't say something nice without lacing it with something mean. He stops, the shoes out and a bag of pasta in his hand. "We're not military. I can't reload in time to do anything useful." The man's shaggy hair sways as he shakes his head, "If you want to make things safer…teach people how to shoot better. Be safer with loaded weapons. Not walking around with something useless." In his opinion, anyway. Either way, he doesn't make an indication he's going to unload his gun. His expression goes to a slightly confused one at the nudge, the tension in his posture easing some. What's with her today?!? Piper gets a questing look, almost like he's asking her what's up.

Brows furrow as Piper puts the bleach bottles with the rest of the cleaning supplies in the office that has been cleared out for use a storage area for supplies. There is a brief study of Dixie and her body language, she is pretty sure that the woman isn't being purposefully offensive and that what she says is out of concern for the group and nothing more. Taking the items from Quinton she gives him a reassuring grin and her gaze roves the trio, "At ease." she says to them all, using the military phrasing since the more military minded in the room would be more prone to following that than any other words she could offer.

"Mutton, the few times I taught you, I never taught you to keep your weapon unloaded. I'm talking about keeping your chamber clear," Dixie replies to Quinton. "You keep a round out of your chamber, then if you have a bad spring, you ain't going to be UDing into my lovely floors or your foot." It seems she practices what she preaches, as when useless is brought up, she drawers her pistol, removes the magazine and shows there is no round chambered, she slips the magazine into her pocket as she gets a bottle of water and she keeps the empty weapon in hand. "Useless? You know what a weapon without ammunition is right? It's a club. It's still dangerous and still useful, though. Guess I'll have to show how to do a tactical reload one day." She's just about to start verbally lashing Terry, until Piper speaks those magical words. She looks confused at first, and it seems that the other woman has her whole undivided attention.

Quinton's eyebrow raises. He doesn't look impressed, but maybe got more to do with the army aspect than anything. "Yes, well….when the aliens show up close enough to hit them with a club, then it will be useful." A second bag of pasta is set down, and he empties out the rest of his backpack quickly. 3 more bottles of cleaner and a griddle pan. Kinda strange haul today. He must have been in a house. His jaw tightens at Piper's words, but it's hard to say if it's in annoyance or humor that she got Dixie to stop.

Terry returns to his workout — pushups, now. Down… up. One. Down.. up. Two… He's not going for any sort of speed record. Four sets, fifty reps per. Once he gets through the first hundred, he finishes the second hundred in reverse-pushup form, enjoying the burn and catching a bit of a "runner's high." Oh yeah!

"Just…" Piper is struggling for words now, the concentrated attention from Dixie unnerving her enough to short circuit the connection of brain and mouth, "stop." all she wanted was to keep the conversation from becoming an argument, not be stared at with intensity. And then aliens and throwing weapons at them is brought up and she pales, taking a lot more interest in putting the stuff away than is really necessary for the task.

Dixie is quiet for a few moments, ignoring all things as she waits for Piper to speak. Yup, she's military, the other woman had all her attention. "Just trying to give an edge," she comments, as she turns sharply on the ball of her foot and she moves towards the door. "Trying to stop more people getting killed." She seems annoyed and upset, as she slips to take up position outside.

Quinton just watches Dixie storm off. Honestly, that's all he's trying to do too, keep more people from getting killed. He'll try talking to her later, when she calms down. For now he just sighs, rubbing his face. The man really needs to shave. He finally looks over at Piper, "You ok?" That was a lot of words, he's assuming that's what's get her all flustered now. Terry's doing his own thing, so Quin leaves him to it.

All the stuff is already organized, neat and tidy so once everything is put away, Piper really can't stand there and pretend to be working at it. Taking a breath she turns to look at Quinton thoughtfully. Smoothing escaping locks of hair from her face she nods "Ok." she replies. She's not, not okay, so it's mostly an honest answer on her part. She gives a subtle wave in the direction of Dixie and whispers "Sorry." that she had to go all frustratingly military on him.

Quinton sighs, a hand going up in a 'what can you do?' kinda movement. "She doesn't like me…always picking…." He lets his eyes drop to the things he gathered today, a hand resting briefly on a bag of pasta. Pasta would be good, he's hungry. "Instead of building people up, it's always about tearing down. I just…I don't get it." that may be a little harsh, but he's frustrated. A soft snarky laugh, "Guess I'm not military material."

Piper hmmms at his words, giving a shrug of her shoulders "Maybe." she isn't sure what Dixie's deal is, only that the other woman is hell bent on surviving. "Military thing?" she conjectures, joining the camp was her first experience with anything slightly military so she only has a few short months of experience to draw on. She does grin at his comment though, "Good." they have enough of those around already, she prefers him just like he is.

Quinton shrugs back, "maybe." Another rub of his chin, the beard seems to be bother him today. The idea of him in the3 military gets another smirk, "I'm not.." He glances over at Terry, "a push up kinda guy."

Well they are in agreement as far as Dixie is concerned, neither of them will probably never understand the military types that seem to have taken more control now that Sonny has died. Piper gives the man a smirk and reaches over to poke gently at his bicep "No." she says in mock disbelief. "You hungry?" she probably already knows the answer to that one, she doesn't recall him being around for supper.

Quinton scoffs lightly, "You should have seen me before." He's right buff now, compared to before the first wave. Ah, privileged life. Pale yes dart over to the cab nit with food, "No…I'm ok." He knows he missed dinner. Not that they've been having all that much. Maybe he should ntry his hand at hunting…that seems to be the bigger need.

"…interesting." Piper frowns slightly the first part of the sentence lost "Would've," she gets out as she tries again. She was a totally different person then so who knows how that would have gone. A nod is given, she believes him when he says it, and since none of them are starving doesn't press the matter. Instead she heads back over to the seating area and takes the newish born from Caro, and begins to walk around with him to lull him to sleep.

Quinton chuckles, shaking his head, "It's ok." Maybe he misunderstands her, "I doubt you'd have even noticed me." Or ever been anywhere he would have been. Maybe. As for food, he has some crackers he can snack on later. Hoarding has it's privileges. He just watches her walk the baby, and then lets his eyes slip to the other children. They're so much tougher than anyone else here, really. A hand goes through his hair and then to his beard again.

She glances from the babe in her arms to Quinton, her pupils doing that blown out thing again in the dim candlelight, "Probably not." it shames her to admit that. There are a lot of people here she wouldn't have given the time of day to in her previous life "It's weird." well this whole thing is weird. "If it's…" there is a gesture made to his face and hair and she moves her fingers in a itching/scratching kind of motion, "cut it." just because they are dealing with alien apocalypse doesn't mean grooming should go out the window.

Quinton gets it. She's almost a decade younger than him, and honestly out of his league. He does get that. He pauses, his hand still on his chin, "Yeah…I was thinking for the cold weather, but…I guess it's not necessary now." And he thinks he kinda looks weird with it. Makes him look even older. "I think I have a razor somewhere." Even with just moving, he still has a ton of crap.

There is a pause in her pacing as Piper studies his face a moment and then gives a shake of her head "It isn't no, but a van dyke," her tone is hesitant, as if she isn't sure that's the correct name for the picture in her head "would be appealing." she is just throwing that out as a suggestion. She has little room to talk when it comes to hair maintenance. She is the one that is in serious need of a haircut. She then continues her pacing, glancing at the children as she passes by them. "Found any candles?" she asks as she glances around to see a few have sputtered out.

So much for shaking the hipster look. Quinton's head tilts, "Yeah? …really look the part of a poet then.."it's not a horrible idea though. He smiles watching her pace. There's something calming about it. "No…found just about everything else…no candles though. We really need to figure out how to make them…"

"Yes." Piper is quite sure of this, she doesn't explain though that clean-shaven and sweaters equals Mr. Rogers, but adding the facial hair fixes that issue. She doesn't want to offend him, even accidently "Why not?" she replies instead. Back and forth she goes, the baby is asleep but she keeps the pacing up. Restless, she gave Kayla a break and has had the kids all day so hasn't left the complex today. "And other things." besides finding a book on the subject she wouldn't know where to start with that.

Quinton snorts, but is amused, "Not many slam readings to go too…" He absently rubs his chin again, but this is more thought than anything. Quin has no idea either. He never learned anything useful, it feels like. When is knowing French going to help them? "Yeah…we should…maybe make a list of things to learn. Maybe the library has some how-to books." Hopefully.

She nods, but bites her lip on her immediate response to his comment but after a moment does say something "Tie people up…captive audience." Piper is joking of course. At the suggestion she takes a colored pencil from the coffee table and a piece of paper and heads to the bar, gesturing for Quinton to join her "Candlemaking." she says as she juggles infant and writing.

Quinton laughs, finally. Not loud enough to wake the baby, but loud for him. "Yeah…I'm sure people would love that." Music is different, even if he sucks, they usually kinda like it. But his poetry? it would be Kayla and Piper…and maybe Harmony. "I don't think we have enough rope." It takes him a moment to realize that she's actually taking his suggestion, "Oh…yeah. I can write…or hold him, if you want." no need for her to juggle.

The laughter has her smiling, he doesn't do enough of it, none of them do really, but especially him. "Rope making," she adds that to the list, as a joke? Since she has been holding baby Quinn all day, she takes the second part of the suggestion, and gently passes off the infant, giving her arm a shake after the weight is removed. He's starting to chub out, like healthy, well-fed infants do.

Quinton's eyes widen slightly. He asked, but the baby almost seems a surprise, "Hello little man…" He laughs again, softer at her joke. But he then seriously adds, "Soap. Laundry detergent." Eventually they're going to run out.

The sleeping infant blinks sleepily up at his new handler when he is transferred from one set of arms to the other, and for a few moments looks like he may start wailing, but the words and the laughter forestall it. Piper writes that down and adds sewing and weaving to the list as well, in a much neater script than the other two words "What else? Tanning?"

Quinton his olds his breath, unsure what to do if the babe starts crying. Luck is with him though, and his namesake closes his eyes. Quin the elder starts swaying, imitating what he's seen Piper and Bea do. Tanning? What-oh! He nods, "Yeah…we get enough deer…that could be useful." He hates to add this, "Someone that can make arrows and bows…any weapons, really."

If Piper notices the mild panic(?) start to set in she says and does nothing about it. That's written and at his mention she bites her lip thoughtfully, "Dixie and Terry know guns," she starts out saying, "but not bows and arrows." except to shoot them, not make them. They have both seen Terry and his bow making skills…abysmal. Another thing for the list, "Should have watched more Little House." because that show was way accurate.

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