Who Doktah, Metan, Pamberna, Russall
What Naked people. In baths. Butting heads. There's bad language and raunchy talk.
When Winter, Turn 2711
Where Bathing Cavern, Fort Weyr


Fort Weyr - Bathing Cavern
A high, domed ceiling stretches far overhead, voices echoing in the distance. Warm, moist air fills the room, coming from the variety of pools scattered about. Vines have been planted in baskets and grow up the walls, thriving in the soft artificial light provided by glows placed at random intervals about the room.

Content warning: There's some pretty risque stuff and strong language towards the end of this log. Reader beware!

It's evening at Fort. Not a particularly popular time for bathing. This is why Doktah makes it her habit to bathe during such times. Being a slightly (ahem) socially awkward sort, she prefers the lack of crowds. Being here as much for the nice steamy heat as actualy bathing, she has undressed and is just sort of lounging at the side of an empty pool right now, dangling her legs into the water to keep warm. She keeps trying to rub steam off her glasses.

Metan's been out doing things that have left him rather smudged with soot and dirt. He strides into the cavern with the intent of tidying himself up and whistles a tune as he moves. He has to give a pause to look at Doktah and then he moves on, shifting his whistle to a hum as he shucks off his own clothing.

Doktah is in no position to judge others for being smudgy and sooty. Her work frequently leaves her with horrible black grease all over her hands and face. At least she seems to have cleaned up now. Stirred from her lounging she glances at the unfamiliar man looking at her, watching with mild curiosity for a moment.

"Well, I suppose I have to say hello, as it's awkward not to," Metan says by way of greeting when his eyes meet with Doktah's. He's tucked his clothes in a neat pile and eases into the bath with a content sigh. He dunks himself under and pushes back to the surface with a grin as his hand brushes his hair out of his eyes. "We can chat, but I imagine you've come this time to avoid people, yeah?" His smile is crooked as he lounges in the warm waters. "And here I've come to ruin it."

It's evening, and the baths are largely empty. Metan has just climbed into a pool. Doktah is soaking her feet in said pool, undressed but not yet fully immersed in the water. "It's fine." She replies to Metan, sounding fairly unconcerned as she makes another futile attempt to clean her glasses. "I do that for the benefit of others, not myself."

"I knew a guy who wore glasses. He typically took them off in the bath," Metan's tone is intrigued as he moves to the side to grab his soap. "'Why Fight It'? I think I remember him saying." A nod is given towards Doktah's struggle with the steam on her glasses. "But, maybe he was less dependent on them than you may be." He scrubs his hair, lathering a film of bubbles over the brown strands. "Wouldn't know myself."

Evening means coming-off-duty time for one shift of guards, and Russall would look to be amongst them as he struts into the caverns, mud-spattered uniform and fresh soon-to-be bruises marked red on his cheeks. As the guard picks a spot to begin to undress - by happenstance, near to those occupied pools - the bruising marks become obvious on more of his body as layers are shed and dumped by this side. Up he gets, buck naked and seemingly proud to be so, and he slips into a pool near Doktah. "Glasses can be a pain in the arse," he comments, having overheard the conversation.

"I don't see very well without my glasses." Doktah explains. Not that it seems like she can see very well with them on at the moment, what with all the steam. She sighs, giving in and removing them, folding them and setting them aside. She looks a little self-conscious for a moment. Naked? Fine. Without glasses? Embarassing. Especially when another unfamiliar voice is commenting. "Indeed." She agrees, idly kicking her feet in the pool. "But they are a necessity for me."

"Do what works for you," Metan drawls as he offers a flippant two-fingered salute towards Russall. He pause any further thought-sharing by dunking under the water to rinse the suds from his hair. He surfaces and blows his nose out between his thumb and forefinger. Russall has no qualms with his nakedness, Doktah's possibly operating blind, and Metan's fully comfortable with clearing his nasal passages in front of them. He doesns't fuss with further scrubbing as he eases himself against the wall, an arm tossing out over the ledge to balance himself on. He's amused, as is indicated by his crooked smile, but he doesn't comment any further.

Pamberna is lurking unnoticeably… Well, as unnoticeably as a heavy-set blond woman can. Maybe she's looking for some juicy gossip… Or maybe she's actually avoiding someone. A squeak is uttered as she ducks around the corner into the bathing caverns, looking furtively out into the hallway to see if she was spotted. Abruptly, she flattens herself against the interior wall just as an older woman, well dressed, stalks past. "PAMBE!" is incredibly audible, and the blond woman doesn't flinch, trying to make herself invisible. After a few minutes of silence, the blond woman lets out a large "Phew!", and takes in her surroundings. Hmmmmmm. People. Naked people.

"Then that sucks for you," Russall says to Doktah - not entirely unkindly, but with a hint of sympathy as he looks over at the girl. He starts to soapsand himself up, wincing slightly as he hits those red marks, which are clearly sore. Metan's nose-clearing doesn't even get a wince from him, though he does scope out the younger guy as he lounges so comfortably. "Don't think I recognise either of you two," the guard says, looking back to Doktah with a curious half-smirk, then again to Metan. "Are you new to the caverns?" The 'PAMBE!' gets his attention, as any holler would a guard, and he sits up straight as his head whips around to see what could be causing it. That it's a chick, hiding out, piques his interest. "Not the best place to hide, blondie."

"That's what I'm doing." Doktah replies to Metan. With a squitn in Russall's direction, she prepares to continue. "I…" Then there's shouting and such. That's too much to ignore! Back to the glasses. Totally not just an excuse to get those back on. She gets them clean enough to peer at the blonde girl who seems to be at the center of all this confusion, blinking at her. "… Did you need some help?" She asks, very unsure about what's going on.

Metan's easy-going and his smile doesn't waiver even at the hollering and the appearance of another person. He glances to Russall and shrugs one shoulder as he flicks his fingers through the water. "I'm here for a spell. Have some marks I need to make up before I move on." He squints at the marks he notices on Russall's face. "You make money fighting?" he queries, looking almost… hopeful. He tilts his head over his shoulder and up to get a better glance at Doktah and 'blondie'. "If you need a hand, you can hire this one." He grins, lifting a hand out of the water to make a fist of and wink.

Pamberna glowers at Russal haughtily. "You're not my supervisor," she snaps, meandering towards the populated bathing pool. She's eyeing the occupants of the bathing pool thoughtfully, and she shakes her head at Doktah, her attention immediately shifting to Metan. Marks? Her attention shifts back to Mr. Not Her Supervisor. "There's someplace to fight around here for marks?" Color her interested, if wary.

Russall smirks at Metan. "Only when the marks're right… but never in uniform." He jerks his head over to where he's left his muddy kit in a disorganised heap. "Why, you fancy a round sometime?" Finished soapsanding by now, he dips himself chin-deep to let it all wash away, letting his attention drift to Pamberna. He even goes so far as to shift his position in the bath, getting himself closer to Metan - they clearly have a good, manly topic to discuss - and enabling him to better watch what the ladies are doing. "Not your supervisor, but I know my bare arse isn't enough to tell you I'm a Sergeant of Fort, so I'm your superior." Or so he thinks. Hopes? Whatever. "Maybe there is. Maybe there isn't." A place to fight for marks, that is.

"… People fight for money at Fort Weyr?" The confusion continues. Doktah seems to almost always operate at a low level of confusion, though. "… The culture here is very curious. I do not understand it at all." She finally slips and submerges herself in the pool, at least up to her waist. Hot water will soak away the confusion.

"It's a fair enough way to earn a good set of marks," Metan answers Doktah with that crooked smile and a lifted brow. He's calculating in the gaze he directs back to Russall. Sizing the other man up - the 'Sergeant' - but in a friendly-sort of way. "Of course I'd fancy a round," he answers as the other man eases closer. "If it'll fill my purse up faster and gets me on the road again, all the better." He rubs at his face with his hand, slicking sweat and water down from his forehead, slucing it off with any remaining water droplets. Pamberna gets another glance as he queries, "You fight for marks?" He doesn't seem of the opinion that Doktah might as he gives her a brief glance before he grins at Russall. "You guys fight your women too?"

PHRASING, BOOM. So, so much phrasing. Pamberna seems to make up her mind, suddenly, stripping with absolutely no compunctions. Yeah, she's fluffy. She does at least turn her back while she undresses - although, she's still got to get in the water, so it's not like that helps. Ranged across her entire back is some serious ink, a handful of tally marks and what looks like some kind of poem take up the entire canvas of her not insubstantial back. She lowers herself into the hot water, letting out a long sigh, looking completely unconcerned if there is any adverse reaction to her… Generous proportions. She scoffs at Russall, condescendingly, as she lets her legs float in the water. "I'm not looking for /girly/ stuff. Your stuff sounds… Amateur." She snorts derisively to emphasize her point, then glances sidelong at Metan, then Doktah. "Hey, I'm new to these parts, so I ain't no you guys." And then she grins, almost sly. "And no, I don't fight for marks. I win for marks." She looks around. "Who do I have to screw to get a drink around this place?!"

Russall shakes his head at Doktah, raising a finger to his lips. "Not in Fort Weyr. The Weyrwoman'd shut it down pretty quick, I reckon. But there's places nearby to Fort Weyr." He gives her a knowing smirk, before asking a rhetorical: "But I wonder if Th'ero would endorse it?" Metan gets a nonchalant shrug. "If you think you can take me on." A little pot he'd set by the side of the pool is picked up, the lid unscrewed, and the scent of the pungent ointment inside may be detected by the others nearby. Russ dips his fingers into it and begins applying it to the bruises on his arms. "We've got women in the guard," he replies to Metan's question. "Though that's generally more sparring, until one's got a longstaff and a grudge." Could that be the source of his bruising? "There's sometimes women in the Renegades or whoever else we're called in against." He shrugs. "I don't go looking to fight them, though." Pamberna, though, gets a look that suggest he may be willing to make an exception. "Fort's Guard is far from amateur, and if you're so new, you'll do well to halt your insults." He glowers, halted in his ointment-daubing. "We don't serve drinks in the baths. Get out and get your own."

Doktah is a curious sort. Very, very curious. And Pamberna's screaming and ink glimpsed through semi-steamy glasses bring out more of that curiosity. She slides over and tries to peer at Pamberna in a way that will likely be interpreted as rude. "You have marks on your back." She points out the obvious. "Do you mark each one for people you've beaten in these money battles?" Clearly, Doktah is a master sleuth. When Russall makes his comment on Pamberna's request, she frowns and ponders for a moment. Then she looks to Metan. "… If I ask nice, will you get us drinks? My friend Roo says that if I ask nice, men will do things for me." So subtle.

Metan hides a guffaw rather poorly by turning it into a cough smothered against his fist at Pamberna's demand of a drink. Russall's rebuttal has Metan clearing his throat more than once in an attempt to smother out any laughter that'd rather surface. He rubs at the back of his neck as his eyes drift towards the ceiling, finally able to still his initial reactions. He angles his gaze towards Russall with a shake of his head. "I've fought at those fights you're mentioning. The ones they hold off a few klicks from here. People bet poor, pay is piss, it's not worth it." The topic of staff-fighting women and Renegades earns a thoughtful rejoinder as Metan mentions, "I'm rather fond of seeing a woman kick a man's ass." Metan doesn't even stall the laugh that bursts forth at Doktah's 'money battles'. "I'd heard that living in a Weyr like this one could be worthwhile. You all have really nailed that point home for me. I'm Metan, by the way." Names- one might as well share theirs when everyone's lounging naked together, shouting at one another, and preparing to battle each other. He says to Russall before Pambe can reply to Doktah, "It could be fun to dice out a few rounds together. Though I'll be the first to admit you'll likely kick my ass."

Pamberna eyes Russall for a long moment, her face indistinguishable. She leans towards him, challengingly. "Bring it." She at least lowers her voice, which is prudent. She shifts moods suddenly, kicking back against the pool wall and reaching out towards her clothes. She pulls a flask out from the pile, flipping open the cap to take a long swig. "Guess I'll have to, if you're going to be like that." She waves the flask at Doktah, offeringly like, which brings her back to the Captain Obvious observation. She's silent for a moment, and she looks a bit remorseful. "No." She says distantly. "Not people I've beaten, exactly." Woah there, Darky McDark Angst. But she shifts the subject yet again, looking to Metan and grinning wolfishly. "If ya want me to, I'd go easy on ya."

"Sounds like your friend Roo may be delusional," Russall replies to Doktah with a shrug. "Men're only going to do that if it's a pathway to what's in your pants, toots." He doesn't react when Metan has no response to the request. "There's no drinking in the baths. Not unless it's from a skin… or a flask." The latter is added when Pambe pulls out hers. "Faranth knows we don't need broken glass and shit in here, cutting our junk up and whatever." And speaking of junk, he does nothing to hide his as he hoists himself up onto the edge of the pool so he can apply ointment to the bruises on his stomach and thighs. No shame here, folks. "Well met, Metan. Sergeant," yes, he's proud of his title, "Russall." Blue-grey eyes flicker between Pamberna and Metan, and he shakes his head. "Not here, kids. Not naked. It'd end up awkward when I have to arrest you.""

Doktah pouts at Metan a little, then frowns down at her reflection in the water. "… Roo was wrong. I knew it. People never listen to me." Apparently someone declining to fetch her drinks at her whim warrants a pity party. She looks back to Pamberna. "… Are they people you've slept with?" It actually doesn't sound like she means that as an insult. More like just a random curiosity. When Russall chides the other two, she looks to him and frowns. "… I'd watch them fight naked. It sounds educational." She accepts the flash from Pamberna and takes a swig of whatever it is.

"Awkward only if said fighting didn't end in a manner that'd make you want to run- or watch?" Metan asks around a laugh as he tilts his head up and to the side to glance where Russall's pulled himself out. He's following suit, only he's not lingering to show off his bits to anyone. He snatches up a towel and tosses it around his hips. "Your friend Roo probably is in love with you," he finally answers Doktah. He doesn't even bother to hide his laughter as he adds around it, "Educational. In so many ways. Ha-hah!" He doesn't seem to be making any moves on Pambe, figurative-naked-wrestling and all. He grabs another towel to scrub at his hair.

OMG PHRASING, Y'ALL. Doktah is addressed first, mournfully. "Don't I just wish." And then she looks between the boys and Doktah, wondering when this conversation took quite this turn. "I don't know that I've ever fought naked," she says thoughtfully. "Sploosh, though." Belatedly, she realizes that there were names proferred. "Pamberna, for what it's worth." And since Doktah's handing her flask back, she takes another deep draw off of it, finished with a gutteral "ahhhhhhhh."

Russall snorts in amusement at Doktah. "Girly, you're just a bubbly pie, aren't you?" Whatever that means, he at least seems to find her more palatable than the buxom big-mouthed blonde beside her. Metan's comment, though, elicits a guffaw - one that clearly hurts Russ's bruised bits as he hunches a little while laughing. "Shit, Met," yeah dude, nicknamed already, "I've probably seen weirder than you banging blondie over there." So… watch? Would that be his choice? Who knows. "I think I prefer blondie," Russall responds to the offering of Pamberna's name. He's done with rubbing himself up with ointment, and he's clean, so Russ stands up and stretches, grunting in satisfaction as his joints click. "It's been your pleasure, ladies, I'm sure." They did get to look at him in all his glory this whole time, after all. "Metan. Drop by the barracks sometime. Girls." He gives them a jaunty salute, then saunters over to the pile of towels to wrap one around his waist. That's all he wears as he steps out of the baths, bundled uniform in one hand and boots hanging by laces in the other.

Doktah gives Metan the side-eye as she leans back against the rim of the bath. "… I'm, like, ninety nine percent certain you're wrong. Last time I slept with her, she said she hated me." Yep, no issues whatsoever there. Doktah breezes away from that potentially fraught topic without concern. "Oh. Right. Names. I'm Doktah. I'm with the Techcraft. I make machines. Heating and air conditioning, mostly." She eyes the flask in her hand until Pamberna snatches it back. She pouts, possibly disappointed. "So, the marks are…?" Not leaving this subject so quickly, it seems like. Doktah is nosy! She looks up at Russall, blinking in confusion at his analogy about her. "… I'm highly caloric and easily consumed?" She asks, just a little worried. Sadly, the man is gone before he can provide clarification. "Ummm…"

"Sex with people who hate you, damn," Metan whistles at that, tossing the towel around his neck as his arms fold in front of him. "That's rough, Doktah. Wouldn't recommend doing that often, y'know. Sex is better with people that you, y'know, love or at least they love you, you have fun," he shrugs, flips a hand out in front of him and wrinkles his nose up. "But hate? Nah. That's when fists should come out." He muses at that idea, glancing between the two women. "Could be fun to watch." He's grinning again, moving for his own clothes. "I've got to go and feed my creatures. I hope to see you both again. Perhaps with clothes on but if you're naked…," he's too cheeky in his smile, "I won't complain." He pulls on the same dirty clothes he came in with. Maybe he has only one pair? He doesn't linger any further.

Pamberna eyes Russall's retreating back, slit-eyed. "Damn, yo, I just totally lost face," she grouses crankily. But there's lots of sex talk going on, and Pambe looks warily hopeful, yet tries to play it cool. "I mean, y'know, being in a Weyr could be good, and stuff." She sees Doktah's mournful face and offers the flask back, then looks after Metan's retreating back. All the dicks are leaving - and the Toms and Harrys, too. She eyes Doktah for a long moment. "Sex with people you hate…?" She's obviously curious.

Doktah takes the flask, enjoying a very nice long swig from it before she bothers replying to Pamberna. "You did?" She asks, pausing to try to wipe her glasses again to confirm that, yes, the men have fled from the awkward and bizarre conversation. "Hmm. The weyr is… weyrlike." Whatever that means. She shrugs her shoulders and leans against the rim of the bath, trying to eye back at Pamberna through foggy lenses. "I didn't realize she hated me when we started the sex." She elaborates, as if that will explain everything.

Pamberna nods, still grumpy about it. "Yeah, that dick. I need to catch that Metan guy later, if he knows where they fight. I'll show him." She holds up her hands and inspects her scarred knuckles. She's listening to Doktah, really, then holds her hand out to get the flask back. "Sex is good, hating isn't. Why'd she have you if she hated you, though? I mean, more than once."

Doktah eyes the knuckles in question for a moment. "Uhm. Well. I'd help, but I don't fight. So I don't think I could help. Unless beating someone who never fights would help you regain face? But… even then, that doesn't sound like something I'd like to do." She hands the flask back. "I don't know. I don't understand people." She says with a heavy sigh.

Pamberna snorts, but she does offer Doktah a friendly smile. "Thanks for offering, but no. The only thing that will help me regain my cred is whoopin' his ass to the Red Star and back. Cocky ass-shit." She scowls at the exit after the retreating Sargeant. Then she snaps back to the present, and pauses to take a big swig off her flask. "Sorry about that. But at least she's in your past now, right? So there's lot more people to have sex with." Just saying.

"Oh. Well. Good luck with that." Doktah actually seems to mean that seriously. Or does she? Her delivery is so flat that it is sometimes hard to tell. She shrugs at the advice given. "Maybe. I haven't encountered anyone yet. Hopefully." She shuts her eyes, then opens them back up wide. "Wait. Was that you offering? I sometimes don't get innuendo. I'd probably do it." She says, now eyeing Pamberna in a possibly worrying evaluating sort of way.

Pamberna finishes another swig with a sputter, possibly trying not to laugh, and also caught a little off guard. "No, no, I wasn't offering - though, can't say I'm not tempted, my vagine's getting a little dusty." She takes another swig off the flask, rattling it around to test its fullness. "Although, I get too many more of these Green Istans in me and I'll probably be down for anything!"

"Green Istans? Is that what they call them? They're good." Doktah remarks, looking at her fingers for a moment. "… I'm getting pruney." She shrugs and pulls herself out of the bathwater. "I don't know if I'm medically trained to deal with dusty genitals, but if you're just talking about sex, I can do that. I'm in the journeyman's hall, fourth door down on the right." Was she serious? Her constantly flat tone makes it so hard to tell. "Nice meeting you, Pamberna." And with that, she's off to dry.

Pamberna looks like she might be considering it, although she merely waves her hand in farewell as she sinks deeper in the bath, looking thoughtful. She takes another sip off the flask. In the distance, "PAMBE!" can be heard from time to time, echoing around the Caverns as Pambe is searched for, even as she pointedly ignores the summons.

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