Brotherhood Of Cigarettes

Engine room

HMS Viperous-----> > > > > THE GREATEST GENERATION < < <


In this cramped space are the guts of the ship: its diesel engines, generators, and pump control. A few small light-bulbs screwed to the walls light up the room, revealing a mess of twisting metal pipes, huge rumbling machinery, and snaking electrical wires. When the engines are on and at full power, the noise in here is staggering, a ceaseless diesel roar that makes normal speech difficult.

Claire offers Renteria a quiet salute, a smile, but quickly returns her focus to what McIntyre is doing. She taps the panel over his shoulder instructively.

McIntyre sits by the comm and waits for his orders, "This can't be good." he mutters softly, "I vote we blast it out of the water."

The engine room is next on the sweep of areas that Renteria's been doing, keeping tabs on the triage teams scattered throughout the ship. He gives an absent nod of greeting - not agreement - to McIntyre before eyes flicker over Claire, and at the medical cross she wears. "Midshipman. You must have slipped on before we left. What is your name?" His voice is naturally soft-spoken, and carries a definite accent.

"Midshipman Claire Ryan," replies the Irish woman, settling her eyes on Renteria. "Sir," she says, dipping her head respectfully after saluting him. "Trained nurse, volunteering from Ireland." She glances around the cramped room, and dabs at her forehead again, making sure she's presentable at least. Her fingers move to twist her apron quietly. "What's been happening up top?"

(From HMS Viperous-Command bridge) Foster comms, "13 thousand yards, Aye. She'll overtake us soon enough."

McIntyre looks at Claire, 'Ryan, man the station please." He then stands, "I want to check on something." He looks at Renteria, "Stay close, we may need your help."

McIntyre walks back into the engineering room. He takes a moment to look around before asking, "I'm back, ordinance is secure. I thought I saw some left alone earlier. What is the current status?"

Claire smiles at McIntyre. "Awaiting further instruction. Simply waiting," she says, crossing one leg over the other as she looks around the small room, taking inventory of positions.

McIntyre says, "Ryan, remember me to give you part of my rum ration later." He then takees a step closer, "Well, fook, seems like we are still in a holding patern. I wonder if I could manage to score a hit on it."

Claire smiles at McIntyre. "Thank you sir, and I'll take you up on it, don't you worry." The willowy woman doesn't look it but certainly rum and she are no stranger. She hms quietly and says, "You could go peek up on deck and see if you think. I am not sure, Sir. I am here to serve."

Matthew has arrived.
Matthew arrives from the Forward to Aft Magazine.

Matthew walks in, stumbling a little as the seas cause him to fall over, flat on his face.

Claire looks with alarm at Matthew. "Gracious are you all right?" she asks. He fell in the right room, two medical personnel available.

Matthew nods and gets up. "I'm ok, even if I was hurt, I can treat myself, I'm one of the ships doctors."

Claire ahs and smiles. "Forgive me then sir. I had not realized. Midshipman Ryan. Claire Ryan." Her Irish accent is not as heavy as it could be, but very firmly there.

Renteria turns around as Matthew comes falling on his face, raising an eyebrow as the man goes thudding.

Matthew nods at Claire. "Warrant Officer Burke, Matt Burke." He says in a thick Irish accent. He grins at Renteria. "I'm not always this clumsy..these damn seas are to choppy.."

McIntyre looks up as Matthew arrives, "Fook, whats your damage?" He pauses as he hears warrant officer, "Are you new to the sea then?" His voice is one of a highlander to be sure. He looks at Renteria, "Which reminds me…I'll be getting some parts for your cleaner soon."

Claire quietly observes, for now. On her hand, she twists the ring she wears, just thoughtful. She sneaks a smile at each of them though, either amused or simply friendly. Close quarters, might's well all get along and all that.

Renteria is surrounded by barely understandable accents. At least he's slowly becoming used to McIntyre's. He nods once to the Scotsman and smiles, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Oh good. We all know how important this is, to keep things clean." Then he looks back at Claire and Matthew, still looking a bit dubious about the latter. "Your first time on boat then, Mr. Burke?"

McIntyre looks at Claire, "You don't smoke cigars do you?" He asks as he then turns to Renteria, "Aye, clean." He lets of a small sound that could be a chuckle, "Clean enough to eat steel." He then turns to Matthew, "It's in your head." He points to his ears. "Vertigo."

Claire's lips curl in a true smile now, and she shakes her head. "No. No cigars. A cigarette can win my heart, but a cigar, mmm, no, Sir." She nods to Matthew. "It passes. You just dinnae get used to the feel of the ship beneath your feet yet. But you will."

"Yes, you will. Just stay away from rails until you do," Renteria suggests, wryly. He shoots a smirk at McIntyre, then absently at the hatch as cigarettes are mentioned. Hmm, cigarettes. "Scotsman, when is your relief coming?"

McIntyre rummages around his uniform finding a pack of cigarettes. He tosses the dry and clean pack over to Claire, "For good service, Ryan." He then turns to Renteria and says, "Fook if I know. I'm just was told to show up here." He frowns, "I'm not on the AA." He then says, "Though I could be done soon."

Renteria snorts. "Must be someone who can change a speed for a few minutes, eh?" He looks back at Claire, assessing her for a moment. "Ryan, this is your name?" He nods to the tossed cigarettes. "Welcome on board. You should join us."

Claire catches the smokes with a glint in her eye, and immediately starts tapping them on the palm of her other hand. She sniffs, delicately, and says to Renteria, "You must have matches. When we go up…" She nods to him then. "Claire Ryan. Midshipman, Nurse of the Wren." She drops the packed smokes into a pocket of her apron, sweeps her hair back again to tuck behind her ears.

Claire adds, not quite an afterthought, "You?"

Matthew has left.
Matthew heads off Forward to Aft Magazine.

McIntyre sits in the engineers seat, "I've got this yank lighter called a zippo if you need a light."

"Dr. Cristian Renteria," replies the tall Spaniard. "Sub-Lieutenant. Obvious medical, obvious not WREN." He absently pats around for his own lighter and locates it without pulling it out, nodding to McIntyre. "Come on."

Claire has left.
Claire heads off Up to Stern.

Stern

HMS Viperous-----> > > > > THE GREATEST GENERATION < < <


This, the extreme aft part of the vessel, is cluttered with lifeboats, crates of supplies, and miscellaneous equipment. Rails have been fitted here for dropping depth charges, and railings set around the deck give a little meagre protection from the cold Atlantic water below. The propellers themselves are not visible from this position, but their churning white wake marks the water for several dozen feet below the ship, when the vessel is moving.

It is currently night time.

Renteria arrives from the Down to Engine Room.

Logan arrives from the Down to Engine Room.

Logan climbs up from the engine room, hands in his pockets, and a cigarette in his mouth.

Claire is busily taking a cigarette out of her pack, slipping it into her mouth. She glances at Renteria and says, "Dr. Cristian Renteria. A light then?" A nod and smile are given to Logan as well from the young Irish nurse. Not too young, old enough to do her job. But younger than some on board.

McIntyre has arrived.
McIntyre arrives from the Down to Engine Room.

Renteria doesn't wait for McIntyre before he climbs up to the stern. The orange at the tip of his cigarette flares a few times in the night's inky blackness as he lights up, then he holds the shielded flame towards Claire. "Of course." He squints as smoke brushes past his face, nodding over to Logan.

Logan has just now noticed the Irish nurse, but hasn't spoken to reveal his heritage. Not from rudeness, just he doesn't speak much…unless he's drunk. He looks to the nurse and says, "Allo lass, Sub Lieutenant Richard O'Reily but call me Logan, if yea call me Richard I'll punch Renteria." He cracks a smirk at the two of them.

Edward has arrived.
Edward arrives from the Down to Engine Room.

McIntyre steps outside, his unlit cigar in his mouth, he reaches in his pocket pulling out a zippo lighter and lighting his cigar. His other hand reaches into his pocket pulling out a silver flask. He remains as quiet as the dead as he does this, though his eyes move out to watch the waters as he takes a sip from the flask.

Claire draws deeply, flips the cigarette into her hands, tip towards palm, warming. "Cold, oi?" she asks, and then looks to Logan. "Hello. Midshipman Claire Ryan, Nurse. Wren." She chuckles then and says, "I don't think he'd like that much. I'll call ye Logan then, hmm?" She tips her head to him, flips the cigarette up again, draws lightly.

Renteria makes an amused sound at Logan, then leans back against the railing with the cigarette smouldering between his fingers. "I hear you only punch men who threaten you with a spoon, O'Reily."

Logan listens to her speech and smiles to her, "I'm going to guess…Dublin?" He looks at her with a hint of question in his sparkling green eyes.

Logan raises an eyebrow at Renteria, "No, Hudson's the one who knocked him out, I just got in the fight on his side because Matthew started it…and I don't like Matthew." He chuckles a little bit.

Claire mmms and grins. "Oh aye! Dublin it is for me. And you?" she says, tilting her head to the side appraisingly. "Surely ye can't be far from there?" Renteria gets an appraising gaze as well, and she considers. "Your accent is different, Doctor. Where do ye hail from?" she asks.

McIntyre takes a long swig from his flask. His eyes continue to watch the waters as fire comes from his mouth in the form of smoke from his cigar. He doesn't say anything but he might be listening, it is hard to say.

Logan looks out over the railing, cigarette hanging from his mouth and manages to say, "Belfast for me lass."

"Was it Hudson. Mm." Renteria flicks ash off his cigarette, sliding his free hand into his pocket. His attention flickers back to Claire then. "Is this Irish for 'Where are you from?'" It's not a joke, he looks like it took him a second to figure that out. "Barcelona."

Claire nods. "Belfast. Nice there. A bit damp." She chuckles then and nods to Renteria, arching her eyebrow. Then, in a strange move, she says in what sounds like nearly perfect Queen's English with just a /tiny/ hint of Irish brogue, "I do apologize Sir, I shall endeavor to speak with greater clarity in the future." A twinkle of amusement is in her eyes.

McIntyre breaks off from his silence and says, "In the country of Cork in Ireland there is a stone, people come from all over the world to see it. It is the blarney stone and it is said to bring luck to all those who kiss it." He then takes a drag from his cigar, "What is seldom spoken is that the locals get drunk and piss on it the night before and line up to laugh at the locals who kiss it." It is hard to tell if the Scot is serious or not.

Logan nods to Claire, "I used to build ships there." He flexes a bit laughing, although putting the other men at the stern to shame, "I built some of the best ships in the Royal Navy and they put me on this relic."

Renteria just shakes his head slowly at Claire's sudden clarity. "Britania's Isles are insane…" he mutters to himself. And that just gets backed up by McIntyre's story, which makes him laugh before looking back at the two Irish. "Dublin and Belfast. They are close together?"

At the laugh McIntyre gives a small smirk. He takes another puff of his cigar and then holds out his flask, "Vodka?" He offers it to all who'd have some.

Claire smirks at Renteria and then speaks in her normal accent, dropping her act as quickly as she'd adopted it. "Aye, depending on how ye look at it, Doctor. They're closer than Barcelona and Dublin, certainly. And ye so dark, and we so fair." She chuckles. She nods to the Scot, reaching for the flask. "Thanks."

Logan shakes his head at McIntyre, "I only drink when there's not a chance of us being blown out of the water by a submarine, and I prefer my cigarettes with coffee." He holds up his mug in a sort of toast.

"It is a 'tan', Miss Ryan," Renteria replies, mildly amused. "A foreign word to ingleses, I know." He chuckles under his breath and holds out a hand to accept the offer of liquor. "So this is vodka. I thought the Russians keep this for themselves."

"I've a hat I wear if I'm on deck in the sun too long, a scarf. My hair. I do not look pretty when I'm pink in the face, hmm? And a nurse should be pleasant at all times. Ye'd prefer it that way." She's lightly teasing, and casts the butt of her cigarette off the back of the boat casually. The vodka makes her shudder lightly, and she passes it off to Renteria, as she'd reached for it moments before. "I dare say there's enough for you too."

"It was a gift. I prefer it. I've got one bottle of vodka. So, enjoy this if you'd like. It is all I have left and I prefer this to whisky." He holds up his flask and takes a sip with Logan's mug. "Fancy a taste, Renteria?" He looks at Claire for a moment, "Ryan, fancy some?"

"Should not be so afraid of the sun," Renteria chuckles at Claire. "Or are you afraid someone will take you for a lobster and throw you in the pan?" He takes the flask as it's passed over, unafraid of the new liquor. The sip he takes isn't big, just enough to gauge its kick, and his expression passes through a couple phases as he ponders the taste. "Interesting…it has something to it. This like the second after you are slapped, when you are still waiting for the pain to hit."

Kate has arrived.
Kate arrives from the Starboard rail.

"I've not been slapped, Doctor. So I couldn't quite put it that way." Claire chuckles softly, shaking her head. "I doubt they could fit me in a pan. I'm too tall," she says, wrinkling her nose as though irritated by her height. "So Logan. What do you do on board?" she asks, getting to know people a bit, or such is her aim.

"He lolligags around n'stares at the wrens, is whut he does!" Kate's voice growls out with a laugh as she comes up from the side of the ship, apparently recognizing Logan's similiar lilting tone and his braggart ways. "Flirtin' with the new one already, are ye. Well, jus' remember, hands off on the ship!"

Claire smiles down at Kate, grinning, really. "Aye, no. He wouldn't be dreamin' of it, I'm sure. None of them would." She glances out at the rising sun too, shielding her eyes for a moment as it crests higher over the horizon of water. "Morning is so quiet on the ocean. So dense, mmm?" She takes out another cigarette and leans over to Renteria, waiting for a light. Patiently. She'll have to invest in a lighter.

Logan slips the cigarette out of his mouth, holding it in his hand for a bit, "Actually that's exactly what I was doing." He smirks at Claire and then sticks his tongue out at Kate for ruining his fun,

Renteria fishes his lighter out of his pocket, flicking it to life. His other hand shields the small flame from the sea wind as he holds it over for Claire's use. "Different seas look different in the morning." He glances out over the waters they're on, raising an eyebrow. "The Atlantic, she is a harsh one."

Kate smirks deeply at Claire, reaching for the cigar holder she was given last night and drawing out a half smoked cigar that she let burn out for later. She slips it between her lips and shakes her head at the nurse, "They would be dreamin' of it, they just ain't allowed tae be actin' on the dreams. Certainly a difference there, lass." Kate chuckles to herself and then looks out over the sea, wincing a bit at the light…"Bloody bright is what it is."

McIntyre looks over at Kate, "I've got everything but tubbing." He says to the woman, "I'll need your help getting that." He considers, "And I'll need an oven." He says, "To keep it warm." He then says, "I can get the raw ingredients. I'll have to barter a bit." He frowns, "It will cost up front but it can be done." He then takes a puff of his cigar and a sip of his vodka, he holds out his flask to Kate, "Fancy some russian rotgut?" He looks at Renteria, "And as always your kindness in housing your new antisceptic fluid creator."

Renteria makes a very colourful gesture of bringing his fingertips to his chest by his heart. "We are hospitable people, Mr. McIntyre. Open hearts flowing with kindness." He glances down at his cigarette, noting it's burnt its way down to near nothing. "Chuta." Flick, off it goes into the water.

Logan leans on the rail, both hands grasping it, "That's what shore leave is for Kate."

Claire nods as her cigarette is lit and focuses on the sea almost wholly now, leaning over the rail lightly. She says, amused, "Aye Logan, as long as ye are harmless there's little wrong, hmm?" She looks to Renteria. "You've been in other oceans, Doctor? How do they compare?" She peers at Logan. Peers! Shore leave?

"Barcelona is a sea city, Miss Ryan," Renteria sounds surprised at having to explain that, tapping the railing with his fingertips. He raises a hand to gesture out at the waters around them. "Nothing like this. The Mediterranean? She is like a lover. Warm and welcome, with waves like a heartbeat you can hear through the night."

Kate smirks a bit softer to Renteria. Damn that accent, talking about lovers and warmth… Kate might slide out of the moment for a heartbeat or two as she stares at the doctor and then shakes off her own dreams. "…Shoreleave… aye. Shoreleave." She sighs to herself and takes another puff of her cigar, looking back to Gordon…"Tubbing… i can get ye that, aye… Gimmie a day or two and it's yers."

Claire shakes her head. "I know it is a sea city. I do not know if you have been /in/ the sea. On a boat. Like this, hmm?" adds Claire, tucking hair behind her ear again. "It is different being on the sea than being in it. Living with it in your blood." His description discomfits her briefly. And she says, "Who has the vodka?"

McIntyre says, "I'd like to see the Eastern sea. Perhaps see China or anther country…something with k sound?" His tounge clicks, "Though there are strange tales from there. Tale of demons and the like." He then smiles warmly to Kate, "You and Renteria get the first two bits." He looks at Claire, "I have the vodka, fancy some?"

"Aye," says Claire, quickly, moving away from Renteria. She takes the vodka and drinks some, bringing a different color to her cheeks. Better. So she looks at McIntyre. "And you're from the Highlands?" she asks, as he'd said.

"Yes, I have been on a boat before," Renteria smirks at Claire, looking almost satisfied as she inches away. British are so much fun. He pulls another cigarette from his pocket and tilts his head to light it up, flicking the lighter shut afterwards. "Ah, that place. Korea?"

McIntyre gives his first smile in some time, "Aye, I'm from the highlands. Glen Coe." He says stoically, "Home of the well of seven heads." He then nods his head slightly, "Korea, yes, I wish to see China and Korea. I've heard Korea is a land of demons, or so I have heard from the Presbyterian missionaries who have gone there."

"I've never been to Glen Coe. Went to school in Dublin. Lived there all my life, pretty much," says Claire, turning her back on the sea now and leaning on the rail so she can face the people she talks to with more ease. "I've wanted to travel. Kind of part of why I'm here."

Renteria raises an eyebrow very slightly, flicking his thumb against the end of his cigarette. With the mention of religion he seems to back out of the conversation a little bit, settling back against the rail to listen.

McIntyre says to Claire, "Aye, I wanted to see the world as well. Instead I've seen alot of dead germans." his face expressionless as he says this, "Anyone fancy more vodka?" He says taking a sip and holding his flask out.

Kate nods to the Scot, "Hell yes.. I ain't even got a swig yet." She reaches over, accepting the flask and knocking back a good shot of it, wincing more against the burn of the booze than she does the daylight. She's far, far more used to the darkened depths of the ship than this sunny deck. She hands it back.."Ech. Strong, but good. Ye're a gentleman and a scholar."

Claire nods about dead Germans. She doesn't talk much about it though. Her face is blank, and she turns back to the sea again. Her cigarette gone again, she tosses the remains overboard. Her hands are thrust into pockets of her apron.

Renteria holds up a hand. "No more, gracias." The mention of dead Germans makes him raise his chin slightly, but after a flickered glance at Claire he doesn't ask after the topic. More ash goes over the rail after another drag off the cigarette, and he asks McIntyre, "Do you know this place we are going? The Scarpa Flow?"

Mcintyre watches Kate, "I'm a Scot which means an alcoholic." He doesn't chuckle but he does crack a smile, "Want another, never drink alone." He then takes another drink, "Cigar?" He asks Kate again. Funny thing about McIntyre he always has cigars, booze, or cigarettes. "The where?" He says holding out the flask.

"Scarpa Flow," Renteria repeats, as he settles his back against the railing again. "This is what said Captain Foster, where we are now. This is Scotland waters, right?"

Kate nods to the half dead husk in her hands. She's still smoking the cigar he gave her yesterday, having let it burn out without finishing it. "I'm still enjoyin yer previous gift… but yes, ye are the best Scot I have ever met, I'll admit! Goin' tae change me mind about ye bunch of bastards." Kate states with that usual, teasing grin. She's quite fond of the man already, but then that's what bribes get you!

Claire inclines her head. She thinks it's Scotland waters, but just looks out and sees, well, water. She looks at them all, and says, "If you'd excuse me. I think it's time I try to catch a nap, though if I'm needed, you know where to find me."

McIntyre offers a new cigar to Kate. "Bastards are we?" He considers, "Then again, we had to be. The Romans never conquered us." As Renteria speaks of the flow McIntyre goes silent. He then says, "The waters of Scotland are dark and deep."

Logan comes back in from his stay at the crew space and goes back to leaning on the rails.
Renteria glances over the railing at the water again, tipping his head. "Qualifies, yes." He nods to Claire then. "Vale. There will be triage drill tomorrow, be ready."

Logan nods to Renteria, "Don't worry I am."

McIntyre snorts, "Drills are for the weak.'

Claire nods to Renteria. "Yes sir," she says, with an almost demure, speculative air about her. She looks at McIntyre then and says, "Depending on your work. For us, they can mean the difference between life, and death. For you as well."

Logan glances to McIntyre and murmurs, "I could drill yea in the chest and we'd see who's weak." He looks away from him as he says this. "Damn Scot."

Renteria snorts at McIntyre, "I am sure you will prefer your medical team to know what they are doing. Important thing, this." Logan gets a mild look.

Logan quickly takes a drag from his cigarette and holds it in his hand shaking his head as he looks out at the horizon.

Claire nods to Renteria. Apparently the medical personnel stick together! Medics FTW! She stifles a yawn in a small hand and then moves off to find her bed. Nice bed.

McIntyre says softly, "Someone is looking for an arse beating yanking my chain." He takes a puff of his cigar. "Never, fook with a Scot."

Renteria flicks his spent cigarette over the rail. "Isles people insulting each other. It is a like a sport on this boat."

McIntyre looks at Renteria, "Aye, and what would you say if I called you Italian?" He shakes his head, "World of difference. I don't hate the Irish, hell, they've had it rough. So have we. Though, that is because the English force us to bow to a crown we never asked for."

Renteria smirks. "He did not call you anything but a Scot." He folds his arms, stretching out his long legs. "Why the Scot don't rise up, if they don't want this crown?" He's careful to keep his voice discretely low, as he speaks.

McIntyre frowns, "Because we were ruined by the English. They forced us into bowing to the crown. To Britania." He shrugs, "So, I serve the navy. Though I hope for the freedom of my home country."

Renteria nods slowly, then shrugs one shoulder. "Good luck with this." A glance at the steadily rising sun, and he finally straightens up. "I should to get some sleep. Be well, Mr. McIntyre."

McIntyre gives a nod, "Take care, Renteria, sleep tight." He says, "Though fear the waters of the coast of Scotland. We are heading there and this doesn't look good for us."

"I would be more afraid for any German who trespass." Renteria smirks and shoulders his medical bag. "Buen dia." And it's off for the hatch.

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