| Light and Sound |
| Summary: | Three pilots hatch a plot. |
| Date: | 2657.325 |
| Related Logs: | None |
| Players: |
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Deck 17 - Observation Lounge
By some miracle of timing, TCS Majestic's observation lounge is empty this clear and peaceful night, or as clear and peaceful as a night in a massive steel tube can be. The tables are clear of coffee cups and skin mags; the chairs are vacant and as yet undisturbed. Even the deck is clear of debris - except, of course, for Aisling Kaye, who sits alone on the ground with her legs pulled up to her chest. Her hazel eyes are wide as she stares past her reflection to take in the sea of stars spilling out like a billion diamonds before her. She's fiddling with a string of beads in her hands: ten in all, carved from banded red agate and crowned by a wooden crucifix the size of her thumb.
Duty was one of the things a Marine could never escape from. And today, Mateo's duty was to patrol. He came into the Observation Lounge like some hunting creature, shoulders haunched slightly as he looked around with dark eyes. His tongue came out to moisten over his lips- one tattooed black, the other the same color as the rest of him. "Everything clear here, Ma'am?" the Private asks of the woman who was fiddling with the rosary.
Mouse seems wholly unaware of the soldier's presence, so intent is she on her task; indeed, as the marine draws closer, he might hear her lilting alto murmuring something in Latin - "Salve, Regina, Mater misericordiae," and so on. Apparently, Kaye hasn't received the memo from Rome regarding the permissibility of worshipping in the vernacular. Only when she's interrupted does she look up, and the last few words of her devotion fade as quickly as her fair complexion turns a pale shade of pink. "Oh!" the woman exclaims. It's more a gasp of surprise than anything else. "Sorry, I - " Rosary beads rattle in her hands. "I can go, if you need." Which she immediately moves to do.
Mateo is completely flat when Mouse seems to get so excited. "No. You don't need to go, Ma'am." he answers simply. "You're welcome to pray here if its your choice to do so. I'm just making security checks- is everything clear here?" he wonders of Kaye. The man is a monster of a creature, standing six-foot seven inches tall, and broad at the shoulders. He's everything the Marines want in a meatshield.
In other words, he's the precise opposite of Kaye, who's a head shorter and a good deal skinnier. It doesn't help that she's currently trying to make herself as small as possible: shoulders hunched, gaze downturned, curly brown hair falling about the curve of her neck. "I think so?" she whispers, voice quavering. "I've only been here for ten minutes, and I didn't see anybody when I - I - " Right hand loops her prayer beads around her left. "Sorry."
Mateo raises an eyebrow as he holds both hands up towards Kaye, "Ma'am. Its alright. Private First Class Mateo Mad-Dog Medina, I'm currently on patrol in the ship- do you know where you are?" he wonders of her softly. "If not, I'll be happy to escort you to someone who will be happy to help, I'm sure." He's got the wrong idea. A very wrong idea.
Mouse tilts her head to the left, her free hand brushing unbound hair out of her face so one eye can peer up at the marine un-blinkered. "They - they told me this was the observation lounge," she offers, slightly confused. "And this is TCS /Majestic/, and this is the Gemini Sector, and this is space." A private little smile lights her birdlike features. "I think that's Betelgeuse, over there. The red one."
Xiang strides into the Observation Lounge. Not making much noise, though she also makes no particular attempt at a stealthy entrance. She notes Mateo but, towing as he is, doesn't immediate spot Kaye. She's carrying some papers but she does pause to browse the holomags available on the tables. If anything is amiss here, she doesn't immediately notice.
Nodding, Mateo just lowers his hands to his duty belt quietly. "Very good, I was just checking. You seem confused. Are you sure you're alright, Ma'am. I'll be happy to escort you to the sickbay, if you're not feeling well." Mateo nods over to Xiang quietly. He just watches now.
"I - I'm fine," Kaye mumbles, not looking at anything that might bring her gaze anywhere /near/ the massive marine. Instead - salvation! "Hullo," she says to Xiang, giving the Asian woman a timid wave, though she doesn't move from her post by the bulkhead. Nimble fingers move unconsciously across the rosary in her palm, counting off silent somethings in her head.
"Private," Xiang says cordially to Mateo, returning his nod when she sees him look her way. That finally draws her attention to that part of the room. She tilts her head, and spots Kaye. A faintly curious look at the Marine hovering over the pilot. "Aisling? Hello." Polite smile to the other pilot. She approaches the pair of them, though a bit slowly, as if unwilling to interrupt whatever-this-is.
"El-Tee. Do you know this woman? She seems a little confused and unsure of herself. I want to make sure she's alright." Mateo says to Xiang quietly. "If, however, everything is clear here I'll continue on my way. You name, Ma'am?"
"I /said/ I was fine." A hint of petulance slips into Mouse's tone as her rosary hand migrates to rest upon the slight curve of her hips. "I was - I mean, I just wanted to sit." Yeah. What spirit there was in her has fled, and just to prove the point: "Sorry for being in your way."
"Yes, Private, of course," Xiang replies to Mateo. A little confused herself, though she endeavors to keep any outward show of that to a minimum. "We're squad-mates in the Illuminati. 221st Space Force squadron." Strange bunch, pilots.
Mateo nods again, "Very good. Private First Class Mateo Medina." he offers to both again, "I need to go file my report for the night. If you two ladies need anything just let me know and I'll be happy to assist. Have a nice night, Ma'ams."
Kaye offers Xiang a shy, fluttering smile at the mention of 'squad-mates', peeking out from behind the marine in the middle to do so. And then, apparently satisfied that Mateo isn't going to roast her on a spit, Mouse drops into a crouch before she plops herself back down on the deck, one leg crossing over the other. "You can stay," she says to the marine when she's all settled. "I'll be quiet." Now /that's/ a promise she can fulfill if there ever was one.
"First Lieutenant Xiang Jia," said pilot offers her name, for her part. "A good night to you, Private, if you need to be on your way. You're certainly welcome to stay, however. I just came for a bit of quiet time, myself. This place is usually fairly quiet at this hour." Her lips crook a notch when Kaye promises to be quiet. True that.
Mateo nods again, salutes and out he goes. He's got work to do.
True to her word, Mouse remains silent as a statue until the marine leaves, though she /does/ bend over at the waist to adjust the fit of her pants over her ankles. Xiang might catch a glimpse of bright purple socks - decidedly non-regulation - before they're safely covered. Then, pressing the back of her palm to her lips, she finishes her prayer, mouth moving in a song without sound.
Xiang inclines her head to exiting Mateo. Then a glance down at Kaye. The purple socks are noted, but aside from a quick blink they are not inquired about just yet. She seems about to say something. But the praying dissuades her. She leaves Kaye to that until she's finished, giving her some distance and easing into a nearby chair. That holomag is scrolled through. It's a political newsweekly, albeit one a couple months old. The papers she brought with her, which appear to be flight-maneuver related, are set aside for the moment.
"Amen," Mouse concludes after a good minute has passed, and her voice echoes hollowly in the cavernous shell of the lounge. Only now does she stand, the quiet patter of her footsteps marking uneven rhythm on the deck as she moves closer to Verdict. Her lips compress like she's trying to stop herself from speaking, but the rhythm of her feet slows and stops.
Being placed on Alert Five, Kell doesn't stray too far from Launch Deck and he has his flight helmet with him, tucked under his left arm. Passing Mateo outside, the young rookie gives the man a brief nod before entering the Observation Lounge, where he usually waits when he is on AFive. Surprised to find two others here, both pilots of the 221st, Kell starts moving towards the window and where the two ladies are.
Xiang's eyes come up from her skimming of the mag when Kaye approaches. "I didn't mean to interrupt," she says, though her tone isn't overly apologetic. "This is usually a good place to come from *some* measure of privacy during this hour. It's why I came myself, actually." She's in her flight suit as well, albeit sans helmet. Kell is spotted, and offered the standard cordial half-smile and inclination of her head. "Draygo. How goes the day?"
Mouse freezes when somebody else comes through the hatch, like some rabbit who's just been spotted by a hawk, and she relaxes only slightly when she recognizes the pilot's familiar face. Warily, Kaye tiptoes to the chair opposite Verdict and sits, waving at Kell in the process. And to Xiang? "You didn't interrupt," she says, nodding once to emphasize her point. "I should be in my bunk, but people were singing."
Raising the hand that isn't holding his helmet, Kell smiles at Xiang and then Kaye, "Not too bad, my Stiletto isn't filled with holes. Alteast not yet, I'm on Alert Five though so if any of the patrols or missions out there require backup, out I go." He then grows quiet and arches a brow at Kaye, "Singing? Don't tell me some of our pilots are intoxicated again…" He sounds more envious than bothered though. However, lately most of the pilots would notice that Kell hasn't been visiting the F&L too much, instead spending most of his time in the flight simulator when it's free.
"Singing?" Xiang smirks. "Could you tell who it was?" Some voices are painful than others. She's not more than a light drinker, so her time in the sims probably outweighs her hours in the First and Last as well. A nod to Kell. "That's a good day thus far. Oh, I have you tried program Zulu Ten, Draygo? I was practicing with it in the simulators yesterday. Quite challenging."
"I don't know who they were, and they might have been drunk." Mouse giggles - a fragile, self-conscious sound that she swallows a second before its natural end. "Maybe. Anyway, they were /really/ bad." The woman spins to place her back against the right arm of her chair, resting her chin on her knees. Wavy hair spills around her cheeks and shoulders, obscuring her face from sight. "Blue and - orange, I think, it sounded like."
"Zulu Ten? Not yet, but I will next time I hop in the simulators. So far I've been selecting random missions for the Stiletto package." Kell says, shaking his head at Xiang's question before turning his attention to Kaye when she giggles. Before the young rookie was able to say anything else, a ship wide announcement that those on Alert Five is to report to the Flight Deck for launch, causing him to look up at the speakers and sigh. "Well, that's my cue, was hoping to relax for a little bit. I just hope that when I get back, the singing has stopped."
Aquilina has one of those painful voices that Xiang mentioned. Usually he's gentlemanly enough to save it for either the shower or for his own cockpit when the mic's off. In off-duties, his shift starting somewhere on the other side of the clock from now, he heads into the observation area with a brown accordion folder tucked under one arm. Both ears are plugged with black buds, wires trailing down to some music player (theoretically) in one of his pockets.
Xiang winces at Kaye's description of the bunk serenade. "Drunk, hopefully, if they're that bad. I'd hate to think they were taking up choral as a hobby." A parting nod to Kell. "Good hunting, Draygo. I'll see you in the sims, perhaps. The exercise is more interesting with a partner or two, so you can make use of the wing tactics." Her head tilts at Kaye, slightly puzzled. "Blue and orange?" Aquilina's entrance is not immediately noted.
"Oh," says Kaye, raising her head as Draygo is summoned. "Good luck?" Even /that/ relatively uncontroversial statement she phrases as a question. Her interest in the man now complete, her gaze lights on Verdict before drifting back to the panorama of stars glittering a few feet away. Aquilina is either unnoticed or ignored. "You know. Blue and orange." Mouse shakes her head helplessly. "The colors you hear?" No, that doesn't work either. "It's what you see when you close your eyes and listen."
Shifting his flight helmet from under his left arm to under the right one, Kell grins at Xiang, "Will definitely be some good hunting, unless the Kitties hear that I'm coming and tuck their tail between their legs running." He then nods to Kaye, "Thanks, hopefully won't need it." With that, he gives the two women a wave before turning and heading to the exit, seeing Aquilina enter. As he passes the man, the young Rookie gives the First Lieutenant a nod of greeting before heading to the Flight Deck.
Rookie ZOOM. Aquilina was engrossed in whatever's coming through his earbuds, blinking distractedly when Kell goes by. Hi, bye. He hoists the accordion folder up in the crook of his arm, heading for the first place spotted that has somewhere to set heavy things down.
"You…hear colors?" Xiang is still puzzled by this, but intrigued. "I can't say I do. But I believe I told you I hadn't an ear for music. What do they…look like?" She does notice Aquilina's entry now. A nod is offered in his direction, as he lands not far from them, though she doesn't try to penetrate his buds with an actual greeting.
"I don't know." Kaye lets out a small sigh, the puff of air blowing a few strands of hair away from her face. "It depends on all kinds of stuff, but - have you seen those movies of a painter painting? It's always changing. Like this one - " Just like that, she plucks a bright A out of air, thin voice quavering - a tremolo of sorts. "Bright red. Like Betelgeuse. Or this - " C-sharp, near the bottom of her range. "Dirty yellow. Like a canary would sing if she were covered in ash."
Aquilina pulls both buds out of his ears, tossing the wires over his shoulder. The folder makes an ungraceful thud when he sets it down, as it promptly falls over and spills two very large sheaves of bounds papers. A hand scratches through the front of his hair, and he steps off towards the nearby table of cups and coffee and other hot things, raising an eyebrow at the seated women on his way past. "On the Rimsky-Korsakov side of that debate are you, Lieutenant?"
Xiang tilts her chin up when Kaye lets off those notes, listening close to them. Though the coloration still appears to allude her. "That's a little beyond me, I'm afraid. I could barely manage to proper scale, let alone color-code it. It's quite lovely, though. Did you train professionally? In music, I mean." She and Kaye are seated near each other, conversing. A look up at Aquilina. "Alex. What about Captain Korsakov?" The observation lounge is quiet at the moment aside from them.
Kaye nods, brown curls rippling as her head dips up and down. "Sister Magdalene. In high school. She was - " A faint sniff is audible from her side of the room. "She said she couldn't see it either, but she called it a blessing, so I guess - I guess that’s nice." The pilot shrugs. "But I don’t know. And oh - hullo, sir." Torch has been noticed at last.
Aquilina bypasses the coffee, picking up a teabag and ripping the paper open. "Not that Korsakov. He's tone-deaf." Heavy accusation coming from this one. "Rimsky-Korsakov, the composer. Rachmaninoff said once that Alexander Scriabin claimed there was a relation between musical sounds and the spectrum of the sun. Rimsky-Korsakov agreed that he heard color and saw sound, but they disagreed famously over exactly what notes corresponded to what. Scriabin swore A was green. The other said it was rosy. Newtonian physics got involved and…you know scientists." He loops a finger around his ear, drily. "Evening, Kaye."
Xiang folds her hands on her lap, leaning forward a little as she listens to Kaye and Aquilina both. "How remarkable. I've never even thought about the 'appearance' a sound might have. But I've never been particularly skilled at artistic pursuits. Did you study this sort of thing as well?" That last question directed to Aquilina specifically.
"A is /not/ green," says Kaye, a little hotly, but she blushes rather self-consciously at the prospect of contradicting a master of her craft. Not that her face is really all that visible given her curious manner of sitting, but still. "Maybe that's why they're better than me."
"Rimsky didn't think so either," Alex tells Kaye, with a grand motion of the hand holding the open teabag. "Nor did Liszt, I think. Though I can't remember what he said about it." He spends all of half a second thinking about it, before forgetting to any longer. "So think of it this way; you're agreeing with two masters, not disagreeing with one." Hot water plucked up, in goes the teabag. To Xiang he snorts. "No. Remember what I said about me and music. I had a phase in physics class spent enamoured of Scriabin's whole 'tastiera per luce' thing, but I lacked the synaesthesia to sound like anything but a pompous asshole."
"I always thought Pompous Assole-ism was a vital component of academic study," Xiang says to Aqulina with a very faint smile. "It always was in the Poli Sci department, at least." Her gaze then goes back to Kaye. "You certainly sound like you know what you're talking about. I'm curious. How did you go from pianist to fighter pilot?"
"Maybe I am. I - I don't know." Mouse doesn't sound convinced; challenging authority isn't really up her alley. Neither, as it turns out, is answering questions about her past. Spinning like a top in her chair, she leans back against its left arm and sets her legs against its right (these are, after all, big chairs). "I couldn't afford conservatory," she murmurs. "After my brother lost his job, my family - " There's a tiny hitch in her voice she overcomes with some determination. "Yeah. And I didn't get the Rostropovich, so - " Kaye's soft smile is brittle. "Here I am."
"Oh, it is, Jia," Alex says with a mild, exaggerated solemnity. "Let's not forget the vital motto of the sciences: Quid quid latine dictum sit, altum videtur." He blows across the top of his steaming tea, watching Kaye over the rim as she speaks. "Unusual, going to piloting. Do you like it? Interpret 'like' as you will."
Xiang breaks into a chuckle at Aquilina's Latin humor. That joke appealed to her, apparently. "Indeed. But you have to admit, a little 'dictum' does make anything sound fancier. I've been thinking of rhapsodizing in it over the comm." She awaits the answer to Kaye's question with a certain measure of interest, but no more questions are asked about the woman's past.
"I don't like the danger," says Kaye, shivering like a leaf in the wind. Slender arms wrap around her torso, rubbing her shoulders to warm herself up. "But the flying - I - it's beautiful out there, I think." Mouse lifts her head to stare past Xiang at the stars beyond, and the stars stare back at her, speckled reflection glimmering in her childlike eyes. "Even the fighting. Purple plasma, and bright blue engines, and yellow tracers - it almost feels like I'm - /composing/ - except when I do it, people die, so - " The pilot's head drops down once again as she huddles within herself for comfort. "Maybe it's not so beautiful."
Aquilina sips his tea, then blows on it again. Ouch, hot. "War's far bigger than you, Kaye. People will die whether you're out there firing or not, and the rest of us are just the same." Bypassing all the sugar and whatnot set out, he starts back for the table he'd abandoned.
Xiang nods a little at Kaye talks of flying and composing. "I never thought of it that way. But it does have a beautiful sort of precision to it. So much chaos around you, and a small element of control in your cockpit, over your bird. Well, I suppose the control is just an illusion in combat. But I do strive to achieve a small measure of it. Anyhow, at least being out there I feel I can affect the war, in a small way."
For a while, Kaye is silent - particularly when Alex dispenses his platitudes - but Verdict's verdict is noted with a quiet sound of approval: the rustling of her uniform as she bobs her head. Then, a little hesitantly: "I could play for you," she offers, glancing shyly at the others. Talk about something that doesn't follow. "But I don't think we have a piano, and I don't know where to get one."
"Hah, could you imagine a piano in the bar." Alex laughs at the idea. "Bit too Casablanca for me. Enough people walking around with guitars and shit like that though, maybe someone's got a keyboard." Yamaha, surely the bane of concert pianists everywhere.
"I think it'd be a fine addition," Xiang retorts to Aquilina, as to the piano in the bar. "And I adore Casablanca, I'll have you know. It's a classic. Someone plays the guitar?"
Mouse shakes her head in what quite possibly is the firmest protestation she's registered while on board this ship. "Not in the bar," she says. "Unless you kick out all the people, and there are always people in the bar, and I don't think - I don't think that would work," Kaye finishes, trailing off. Her offer, it seems, extends only to these two. "And I can't play a keyboard, anyway, so - " Kaye clasps her rosary ever tighter. "Never mind, I suppose." A forlorn whisper.
"Sure haven't got any pianos handy." Alex shrugs one shoulder, lifting the cooling tea for a sip now that it's not trying to burn his face off. "Not till they give us their disgraceful excuse for shore leave, anyway." The young woman's despondent attitude makes him run the tip of his tongue over his back teeth. "Hey," he comments, eyes lighting as though an idea had struck. Uh oh. "We could make you a tastiera per luce. Sort of."
"Tastiera per hmm?" is Xiang's prompt response to Aquilina's suggestion. Puzzled yet interested. That's Greek to her. The look in his eyes seems to intrigue her, though.
Kaye is equally confused. "I don't speak - " Mouse pauses, stone beads clicking in her hands. "French?" she ventures. "Or Italian?"
"You know 'Prometheus - Poem of Fire'?" Alex asks both of them. Without waiting for an answer, he turns his chair around and sits backwards on it as he faces the two women, tea mug cupped in both hands. "Scriabin wanted the audience to see what he saw. So he had this elaborate thing built…like a color organ, that would project on this gigaaantic screen." The drawn out vowel's accompanied by a trace of his hand across the air, dramatically. "It malfunctioned, so shit for a joke, /but/ they've done it since. We haven't got pianos, but we could make you one of those. You know, you could help us program something to play a recording of your favourite piece and show us the colours you see while it's going. Couldn't that be grand?"
"My education in mythology didn't go much past the one-o-one level, Alex," Xiang replies to Aquilina. Though she falls quiet as he talks, head tilted to one side as she follows his drawling vowels. "I've no idea where to start with a project like that but, if you do, I'd be glad to assist."
"You'd do that?" Torch's offer has caught her off-balance, and Kaye has to blink away her surprise. "Like a light show." The idea seems to tickle her funny bone, eliciting another rare giggle. "I'd like that." Then, perhaps realizing she might not be expressing herself properly, Mouse tries again. "I - I mean, I'd like that a lot."
"I don't either, but hell if that's ever stopped science!" Alex declares to Xiang, in a much more grandiose voice than necessary. If he had a cape, it'd be flapping behind him. "Right, here's what we'll do." Expectant beat. Silence. His eyes roll up. "Uh. Right. Here's what we'll do. First, Jia, you help Mouse get down on paper all her color-note combination…things. Oh, and figure out what piece you want to do this with. Something you like, right? And I'll get my hands on a projection screen. That done, and that done," He holds out index fingers at opposite ends and brings them together to touch. "Meet in the middle and figure out how to get that onto that."
"Certainly," Xiang affirms to Kaye, another of those faint smiles crossing her lips. "It would be a better use of one's off-time than drinking in the First and Last. And it sounds like the results would be quite pretty. This sorte of ours out here is lacking in beauty most of the time." Her brows are arched at Mad Scientist Aquilina. Traces of amusement flickering across her face. But she's caught up enough in the enthusiasm that any laughter is stifled. A short nod to his 'orders' for her. "I think I can manage that."
"But it's not just colors," says Mouse, sounding a little worried. "There's shapes, and lines, and - " Her eyes squeeze closed in frustration. "And more, but - I mean - can you really do all /that/? Do you have time? I don't want to - to impose. But - " Despite her protestations, she can't entirely keep a self-conscious smile off her face. "Have you heard of Rachmaninoff?" she wonders. "Concerto Number Two, in c minor?" Kaye rocks forward in her seat, humming the first few snippets of the theme. "For our light show in space."
"Shapes, lines, whatever. We'll figure it out." Alex's energy is spiked and that way it remains. His speech is noticeably quicker. "Don't you worry about a thing. As long as I have things I'm really supposed to be doing, I have time. Hah. We'll find someone who knows their programming…maybe one of the labrats. Or a CIC gopher who wants to show off. No shortage of those. But don't worry about that just yet. Ah…concerto? Don't think I know that one. Have you got a recording of it?"
"A good deal of our time is spent hurrying up to wait here, anyhow," Xiang says. "And this sounds a much finer use of my time than the various other ways available here to kill it. If you can describe it, Aisling, I'll do my best to dictate it. I can't say I'm familiar with that piece of music, but I'll do my best."
"I have six," says Kaye, who shrinks back in her seat at the flood of words from Torch. Her eyes grow larger as the man gets more and more animated, and she looks over at Xiang for tacit reassurance. And whenever she can get a word in, she offers her choice: "Zimmerman's my favorite - but the recording is old."
"Perfect." Alex doesn't seem to mind the disclaimer, the word stamping its approval on both Kaye and Xiang. "This might be fun. Did you know that in 1720, someone fashioned a harpsichord that had a colored tape attached to each key? Each time you hit a key, a beam of candle light would shine through the right tape and projected that color onto a screen. A priest…Castrel? Casso?" The loss of the name appears to bother the hell out of him, then abruptly doesn't anymore. "I forget. 'Chromophonie', that was another one. By Bernard. Isn't that a fantastic name? Chromophonie, I mean, not Bernard. Anyway, I ought to let you get to it." He finishes off his tea in a swallow and scoots back on the reversed chair, standing up with gusto.
Xiang has heard not of either the name of Kaye's favored recording or any of what Aquilina goes on about. She adds a firm, short nod after his spiel, though. "Sounds like a proper plan of action, Torch. Topping." She does sound enthused, perhaps as much caught up with the other two as anything else.
"I have a pair of headphones in my bunk," says Mouse, who looks over at Xiang with something like eagerness in her eyes before she hops out of her chair. Yes - she wants to do this /now/. And then, impulsively, she throws her arms around the taller man for two brief seconds before - completely embarrassed - she lets go. "Sorry," Kaye mumbles, backing away two or three steps until she's leaning against her seat. "I - I just meant to - " She can't find the words.
Aquilina makes an 'oof!' noise, caught completely off-guard by arms thrown about him. "Well, hello." She gets a warm pat on the back of her shoulder at least, if a tetch awkward, and he chuckles. "Come on, come on, everyone sitting about and everything. History was never made on one's arse." Sort of. He has to gather up that huge folder of his, and all the work he didn't do over the last two hours or so. "To the fields, to the fields, onward we march!" An index finger leads the way for him to breeze himself out of the room. Loudly.
Xiang grins at the pair of them. No displays of PDA are forthcoming from her, but she does stand and give another of those short, purposeful nods. "No time like the presence." In a moment of wimsy, she hums as she follows Aquilina out. Humming she can at least manage, musically. The tune is a military 'jody' cadence, so it may be familiar to them.
Kaye follows, settling herself a step behind Verdict - and wouldn't you know it, soon the Asian woman's voice is joined by another: a high, clear whistle that flickers in the ship's metal corridors, weaving a web of harmony around Xiang's jaunty song.
