legionworld | FOOD FIGHT

Entry tags:

FOOD FIGHT

Who| Anyone who wants in
What| FOOD FIIIGHT
Where| The Mess Hall
When| A few days after "Resistance is Futile" and "An Eye For An Eye"
Warnings/Notes| Nope. Just some good clean fun

The last missions had been rough, but all missions were pretty rough anymore. Still, there was an extra bit of horribleness in seeing innocent people transformed into monsters, especially when it happened to teammates. A few had faced even more trauma while trying to put said teammates down, before it was known that the zombies could regenerate or that a cure was possible.

So the Mess Hall is tense and quiet in the days after the missions. Nobody's being very social, the native Legionnaires are quiet, even the staff are quiet when they're usually pretty chatty in the Mess. Everyone's caught in a groove of that sluggish post-crisis emotional exhaustion.

But then the donut hits. It goes in a soaring arc through the air and hits its target in the face, frosting first.

Everything freezes and stares wide-eyed, trying to figure out who threw it. The tension ratchets up a notch.

Then it breaks.

Someone takes advantage of the moment to do something they've dreamed of emulating from every kid or teen comedy they've ever seen, and screams:

"FOOOOD FIIIIGHT!"

It isn't long before tofurkey rains from the air like a plague. Noodles whip across the room in handfuls. Various rainbow colored puddings and deserts soon become dangerous artillery. Even the staff, who'd spent all that time making the food, gets in on it, taking advantage of the moment to do something wild they never dreamed they'd be able to do - throw mashed potatoes at the faces of the people they serve every day.

The Legion hasn't had an easy time of things over this last year or so, and it hasn't been getting any easier. But they have this moment, on the other side of yet another mission they survived, after yet more villains they've beaten. And right now, the worst they all have to worry about is getting soy whipped cream in their hair.

[ooc: Feel free to make whatever threads you want, with your characters doing whatever they want.]

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When McGillis puts it that way, Gaelio suddenly finds his chosen name to be more satisfying. He would've been easy to spot on the field, too; on the other hand, he doubts he would have recognized Siegrune from first glance. How fortunate that the food fight occurred (ugh).

"That's more trouble than it's worth, if you ask me . . . but I see what you mean." Doing things the good old-fashioned way—hadn't he fussed about something similar a while back? "I might as well start with you. Have you heard of anyone else from Gjallarhorn?"

He almost asks for Ein by name, but McGillis would probably have brought that subject up on his own if that were the case.

"I can't say that I have," he admits, though that was mostly because... he just didn't think to look. Why would he have? It wasn't like there was anyone he particularly needed (or wanted) to see. In fact, he would have vastly preferred to be here alone. And the idea that someone like Gaelio might be here, while plausible, was the last thing on his mind... There wasn't anyone else whose presence would cause problems for him, he thought, but maybe this was something he should look into anyway. After all, if Gaelio could be here from the past, who was to say that someone couldn't be here from his future? He had always been careful in his actions, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

"Perhaps we should consider asking around. Once you look a little more presentable, that is." Again, he teases. (And he's distinctly aware that this isn't all an act, even if it should be, even if he was meant to be over this. He shouldn't get so caught up in these feelings, this nostalgia... but a little part of him does.) He puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry. If anyone else is here, we'll find them."

He reassures him, if only because he knows there aren't many people Gaelio would be so concerned about. (And rightfully so.) He may not give a name, but he already knows.

The food residue on his shoulder notwithstanding, Gaelio takes in the comforting touch of McGillis' sure grip (though his features crinkle at the reminder of his current presentation). He hopes that, if anyone else is around, it's someone he'd be glad to see.

"It's not that I'm worried," he waves his arms to emphasize, "but now that you mention it, anyone could be here." Even Almiria, he thinks, as lousy as that would be: She's hardly suited for this kind of environment. "Personally, I'd prefer that it just be the two of us."

His next breath comes and goes with audible mirth. "When I last saw you, you were on vacation. Yet here you are now, on business as usual. Is there a more dedicated workaholic in this world?"

He smiles a sort of self-deprecating smile as he retracts his hand. It's no surprise that Gaelio's last memory of him is something like that—if it had been anything else, anything more "recent," this would probably be a very different conversation. But McGillis remembers what he means, even though it's been a long time since then. After all, they called it a vacation, but... Well, Gaelio's not exactly wrong. He rarely took vacations without good reason.

"I can hardly hope to gain a full understanding of things here if I'm not," he says, not-so-subtly brushing off the comment that 'dates' his friend. The fact that there is a time difference between them isn't so horrible, but the sorts of questions it could lead to were a different story. He'd rather avoid it, at least for now. "Of course, my original thought was that I'd have to do this alone."

Gaelio being here was more like a wrench in his (very vague) plans, but once again, it's easy to fall back into these old habits and expectations. He figures Gaelio probably wouldn't mind too much if he relied on him a little bit. Quite the opposite, in fact.

(The real irony, though, is that the reason McGillis worked so hard in the first place was something that was not exactly relevant here... Regarding the long term, he was already at a bit of a loss as a result, and that's not something he's used to.)

Classic McGillis. He neither takes pride nor feels shame in admitting his extreme work ethic. The consistency brings a small smile to Gaelio's face.

"Would it have made a difference? Don't forget that I'm here."

As competent as McGillis is, Gaelio reckons that the reminder wouldn't hurt, especially now that their titles hold no value, forcing them to start from the bottom of the ladder. His dear friend tends to get carried away—an old habit that he foresees growing only stronger this far from home.

But first, to look presentable. They must be drawing closer to their quarters now. Gaelio is more than ready to jump inside and get cleaned up before he tackles McGillis' suggestion of seeking out familiar names.

"Let's follow your suggestion and ask around. Is there anything else that you want to know?"

"Oh, I'm sure I couldn't, even if I tried," he says with a smirk.

Their encounter today may have been a coincidence, but Gaelio had never been one to just leave him alone. It had been annoying at first, and then confusing, but in the end, this was one of the things that he'd liked so much about him.

(But that was the problem, wasn't it?)

Teasing aside...

"I think that should do for now, although I suppose it couldn't hurt to get more acquainted with where everything is here on Legion World."

That was easy enough, though. Two birds with one stone and all. And then, after that, he could figure out what he was going to do about— all of this.

"Right, so a tour's in order. After all, Legion World seems quite vast."

He nods, showing his approval. If this were a Gjallarhorn fleet, Gaelio would have no trouble finding his way around; unfortunately, it isn't. But fortunately, he won't have to walk around on his own. A little chit chat with McGillis about inane matters along the way sounds appealing after a long day of exposition.

Gaelio simpers.

"I'm not so sure on the name, though."

Ah... Such a frivolous conversation. Even things like this, which were such a typical part of working with Gaelio before, were so uncommon in his life now.

"'Legion World'? I agree." While Gaelio goes to get cleaned up, McGillis will do the same, even if it's just to dab a little water on his shirt from the sink. "Seems a bit too 'on the nose' to me."

It was so easy for him... To be able to act like that, so casual and carefree, even despite the situation they were in. But McGillis didn't begrudge Gaelio for this. Rather, he begrudged himself, because— well, he knew how he was. He had not wanted to be comfortable here. He had not wanted this to be easy, and with him here, it would be. While for most, a friend at their side at a time like this would probably be the best thing they could ask for, for McGillis, it was cause for worry, the same old fear that he would lose sight of himself if things were too easy, too comfortable. The comfort and support that most would find in this was the last thing he wanted.

It's funny how quickly things can change in a matter of a few minutes, and under such ridiculous circumstances as a food fight. This morning, none of this had even been a concern. Even though this was supposed to be a team, he'd never planned on indulging in anything beyond professional relationships. He simply refused to deal with such trivial interactions anymore.

They use the kitchenette in Gaelio's assigned quarters, the sink water running soothingly over his bare hands. His soiled gloves rest on the counter, set aside to be cleaned at another juncture. Gaelio brushes off the excess water from his hands, then bows his head to run his wet fingers through his hair.

"Exactly. Shouldn't a ship this big have a more symbolic name?" he says, though his tone is light and indication that he doesn't think too much of the topic. It's something to fill in the silence while they do a minimal wash-up. "Though it's still a little hard to believe that a ship could be so massive. Nothing back home compares."

Once his hair has been sufficiently worked through, and his face splashed with some more clean water, Gaelio peels away from the sink to head to the bedroom.

"I'm going to change. Make yourself at home."

"Certainly."

There's only so much he can do about the stain on his own shirt in the meantime. (It'd probably be more efficient to follow Gaelio's example and just change, but it's a small enough thing that it's not worth the fuss.) All that's left to do, then, is wait, though he doesn't expect Gaelio to take very long.

If it had been anyone else, McGillis would've taken advantage of the opportunity and looked around, seeing what he could learn about this person from a few quick surface glances. But he already knew Gaelio very well, and their conversation had already revealed to him anything he might have wondered about. And besides, they were both new enough that Gaelio's place hardly looked any different from his own. There would be little of interest in such a place even if it was someone he'd just met.

So even though he agrees to make himself comfortable, he... doesn't. He waits patiently where Gaelio left him instead, maybe glancing at the communications device if he's gone too long, but that's about it. There was no need to get comfortable if they were just going to be leaving again, anyway.

It's... weird. How normal all of this feels. It's like a dream.

Not one to dawdle on an important task such as this, Gaelio emerges from the bedroom within minutes. (Legion's fashion, if it can be called that, is certainly unique.) Clad in a fresh attire, he approaches McGillis in the midst of securing his shirt and looks up, his lips canting at what might as well be a statue.

"You're still over there? You could've sat down. We're going to be up and walking for a while."

A part of Gaelio is not surprised, however. The crew quarters are a far cry from home, and McGillis must be raring to see to their day. For that reason, Gaelio bypasses the couch to join McGillis at the kitchenette.

"Are you changing? If not, we can start on the tasks at hand."

"I'm alright, thank you," he smiles. So considerate. Only Gaelio would be that concerned over whether or not he wanted to change or was relaxed enough. "And don't worry about me. You know I don't tire easily. Besides, I think you ought to get comfortable here first, don't you agree?"

It was nothing at all like home, and because of their recent arrival, it wasn't exactly lived in, either. (Though for McGillis, that would just be an excuse. Where did he feel at home, really?) He's teasing Gaelio more than anything, though.

"If you're ready, we can leave now, but I'm in no rush, if you wanted to stay for a bit."

He did want to see to things, but he opts to return the thoughtfulness in kind. And anyway, from the sounds of things, it's not like they were going anywhere anytime soon.

No, he thinks, McGillis doesn't seem capable of feeling tired. But what's his is his (to a point), and Gaelio doesn't necessarily find himself agreeing in spite of his glancing at the couch. (They'll be family soon, after all.)

Then he grins.

"What's there to stay for? This place isn't even lived in." The crew quarters are boring. With that said, Gaelio heads for the door. "If you're not changing, it's about time that we got started."

"Of course."

He's fine with that. It might even be preferable, though it's difficult to call it that considering the overall situation. Perhaps it's simply easier this way, focusing on things that need to get done, as opposed to the increasing awareness that this probably— isn't the worst thing that's happened to him in a long time. Sigh.

"Where would you like to stop first?" he asks, following him through the room and out of it, pushing those thoughts from his mind. "Was there anywhere in particular that you wanted to see?"

The door closes behind them, signaling the start of their little quest. Already, Gaelio is reminded of what had brought them here in the first place.

"As long as we avoid the mess hall, anywhere sounds good." On second thought, that would have been the most ideal place to start, but Gaelio doesn't fancy himself going anywhere near that disaster pit for another couple hours. He furrows his brow. "That limits our choices. Where else on this ship would people cross paths the most often?"

He wouldn't know. What was that waypoint called—the hub?

"The threshold hub, perhaps," he suggests, tugging on a particular strand of hair thoughtfully. "I imagine we might also find people milling about the observation deck, but I would think the former a better choice if we want to speak with people who are more familiar with this time and place."

People comfortable enough with the idea of traveling to different worlds have probably been here for a while, if they aren't native to this universe all together. ...well, that, or they're just crazy. Either way, that's his thinking—it definitely seemed like the next best bet if they wanted to talk to at least semi-knowledgeable people around here.

Edited 2017-11-09 04:29 (UTC)

Just the place he was thinking about. Good things always come of McGillis' playing with that strand of hair.

"Then the threshold hub is where we're headed. Depending on how that goes, we can save the observation deck for later."

The walking continues. One would hope that Gaelio, who starts off in one direction, remembers the way from his introductory briefing. If not, at least he's got a reliable friend next to him.

"How long before we're sent on a mission? What do you think?"

For now, McGillis follows. Either Gaelio's got the right idea so far, or McGillis doesn't remember the way, either. But it's fine, regardless—after all, getting to know their way around was part of the plan.

"My, eager to get to work, are we?" he teases, briefly, but continues with a more serious answer. "I'm wondering that myself. Considering the scope of things, I imagine it won't be too long before we're given a job. It sounds like there's a lot of work to be done around here. On the other hand, we are rather new. Short of an emergency, they may not be so willing to shove us out onto the field almost immediately."

And understandably so. He supposes there's no guarantee that they'd focus on training new Legionnaires first, but it hardly seemed beneficial to toss a bunch of people into the fray when they may-or-may-not know what they're doing.

"You're probably right," he says—and he is quite eager to get to work, though it's the one would rather be performing within Gjallarhorn. But they're here, and they'll just have to take baby steps.

"We're supposed to attend daily lessons." Gaelio snorts at the thought. "I'd say we're a little too old to be going back to school, but the circumstances are unusual."

This time, he doesn't have to tail McGillis for attention. It doesn't really feel like they're regressing when he puts it that way in his head.

"Indeed," McGillis agrees, slightly amused. "I highly doubt we'll be the only adults involved, if that helps. Personally, I'll accept 'unusual' if it means more preparation for the situation at hand."

He was confident enough in himself that, even without the training, he could probably manage—he'd figure something out. But still, it didn't hurt to be prepared. The more familiar they were with everything, the easier all this would be to deal with.

It would be interesting to see how Gaelio took to all of this, though. McGillis was unflappable, while Gaelio was... something else. But that had never been a problem for him, either.

"Strange though it may be, I'm certain things will be fine. I don't feel even a bit out of place with you here."

As long as McGillis is here, everything will be fine—probably too smooth sailing, what with that work ethic in overdrive.

Incidentally, Gaelio's expecting the majority of attendees to be adults. Would an organization like this one actively recruit children? Who knows?

"That doesn't mean you should overdo it," he says in a teasing tone. "But it's too bad. It looks like we won't be piloting any suits while we're here."

Not that that's an unusual occurrence, given that his position tends to call more for auditing than piloting. But considering that he's been deploying rather frequently as of late, the loss is all the more apparent. He wonders if Kimaris would have made work as a superhero easier.

"It is rather unfortunate, I agree. I imagine it would make things a lot easier if we could."

They wouldn't have to learn entirely new abilities and techniques, and they would be able to more efficiently make use of the talents they already knew they had, as opposed to trying to hone newer ones... Alas, even if similar technology existed, it would still probably be different enough that they'd have to "relearn" it in order to use it. (And that was to say nothing of the Alaya-Vijnana, which was a far more complicated issue, but that was more his problem than Gaelio's.) Either way, it was definitely a shame. Perhaps they had potential with these new abilities, but it still felt like their "true" potential was being wasted.

"There's no telling how long we'll be here, so try not to get rusty."

(Not that it's going to matter... But you know...)

Hopefully, it won't be that long.

"Of course. There's no way I'd let myself go. I've got a space rat or two to catch once I'm back," he says, and it's a paradox in that it tumbles out of his lips and reminds him of it at the same time.

Not to mention that he refuses to let Ein fight Tekkadan alone. But it brings Gaelio back to the dilemma of mastering a new ability that he's reluctant to call upon, even when it could potentially expedite his return; compared to the exhilaration of piloting a mobile suit, the possibility of engaging in blasphemous conduct leaves a poor taste in his mouth.

It's a strange feeling, how someone can say something that is perfectly natural for them to say and yet still make them feel so... distant. Well, maybe it's not that strange, given that this whole thing is strange. This entire conversation shouldn't even be possible, after all, so maybe it was also only natural for it to feel this way... Or maybe the real reason was because, for the first time, McGillis is feeling more than just the distance he put between them himself.

It's a new thing, but a lot of this is. For now, he supposes he'll just have to get used to it. He replies encouragingly.

"Good. I'll be counting on you, Gaelio."

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FOOD FIGHT

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