We Come, We Eat, We Leave

[Roman Lyons]

[Made for Bayla Naveen .]

Roman pushed into the mess hall for breakfast the moment the doors were unlocked. He hadn't been waiting outside in the hall like a nerd. No, he'd timed his arrival perfectly, like a hawk deciding the precise moment to angle his flight and careen towards the ground to snatch up its prey. The thing about the meals was that the cooks never made enough of everything for everyone, so if you came late, not only were you left with the soggy cold remains, but the most delicious foods--like the fruit!--were well gone and you were left with the bones that slipped off of the table. That's why Roman made it a point to be one of the first into the hall for every meal. He was like a ravenous rottweiler.

"Sir Lyons." A Private who entered after him greeted. Roman only threw him an acknowledging glance over his shoulder. He was a man on a mission, not to be disturbed by things like saying good morning.

Unfortunately for the hungry Specialist, everything had portions. Roman always made sure to get the most of everything he was allowed. It was with both hands supporting his bounteous tray that he casually picked a seat at the far end of one of the long tables, away from the door, away from more greetings, and sank into a seat. People were still only trickling in. If he ate quickly enough he could get away before annoying company joined him.

He didn't eat quickly enough.

"Lyons!" A rather feminine voice for a man called out to him, followed by an indiscreet lion roar. A new Private, one Roman had had the misfortune of welcoming to the world as a powered, practically skipped towards him, his tray a pathetic example of a bird's appetite. Roman's eyes grew wide, he kept his gaze on his food and began shoveling faster.

"I'm so ready for today!" The Private declared, clumsily dropping into the plastic chair beside him, scooting it closer, popping any and all illusions of that personal bubble thing. Roman's eating got slower as his patience wore thin. He still hadn't acknowledged the Private. If he could swing it, he would live the rest of his life not ever speaking to him again.

Of course, this was the military, and more than that, this was Unica. Unity was everything.

"Hey man, so, what's it like getting to choose your mate?" Private Gilligan slung his arm around Lyons' shoulder, and Roman abruptly dropped his fork. "Like, do you go for big breasts? Or stick to the dark skin? You were assigned Bayla, right? I mean, do you really like--" Gilligan suddenly stopped talking when his face was shoved into the food on his tray.

[Bayla Naveen]

Bayla was particular about her food, and after five years in Gamma Base she had the same knowledge of the meals as Roman did.  She refused to eat any kind of bean and wasn't fond of things like celery, but loved fruit, pasta, and anything with chocolate, so she tried to be one of the early arrivals to mealtimes whenever she could so she could snatch up as much of her preferred food as she could legally take.

This morning she got lucky. She was only the fifth person in, and was able to get two whole tablespoons of tiny chocolate nibs in her oatmeal, as well as a heaping bown of bananas, pineapples, and some odd green fruit the cook's assistant told her was kiwi.  Score!  Adding a few other various items to her tray, Bayla nodded to the cook with a grin, "Hey, thanks for the chocolate, Chef!"

Knowing the cook would simply ignore her as always, Bayla turned and quickly spotted Roman at a table alone. Figures.  No, wait, not alone, she amended mentally as another recruit - looked practically fresh off the operating table - joined him.  Bayla knew that look, that set of Roman's shoulders as the man put his arm around him, and sighed a long-suffering sigh.  She sauntered over to the table, catching the last few lines of the Private's speech.

Bayla slowed time for only a few seconds, long enough to drop her tray on the table, place her hand firmly on the man's head, and shove it down into his food.  Shame to see rations go to waste.  As time resumed she leaned her head down next to his, "That's Specialist Naveen, Private," she said in an overly cheery voice, "And to help you remember, take an hour out of your leisure time today to go and scrub the toilets."

The man stuttered and stumbled over his words, furious that on a Sunday, of all days, he would be forced to do work detail.  But at least knew better than to argue with a superior officer, because she wasn't going to be nice next time.  He took his tray, face still dripping with oatmeal, and moved to another table.

Bayla moved her tray to the spot across the table from Roman and dropped into her chair to begin eating as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.  She lifted a spoonful of her oatmeal, peppered with little pieces of chocolate, and grinned at Roman, "Happy Sunday, Lyons, chocolate for breakfast to celebrate!"  She popped the spoonful into her mouth and winked at him.  "What's on your agenda for today, then?  Some of the PFCs and I were gonna go shoot some hoops after breakfast if you're in."

[Roman Lyons]

Though Lyons had plenty of exposure to Bayla's power, after years of working together in the same unit, she still managed to catch him off guard time and time again. The Private's face in the tray happened so suddenly that Roman jumped, lifting a to guard his face, brown eyes searching for what it was he needed to control, as his eyes were the windows of his mind, which had all the power. Upon seeing his mate, his racing heart quickly slowed, as his full assurance and trust in whose side she was on allowed him to grow calm again.

A banana from the retreating Private's tray happened to slip off the side--not that the oatmealed man noticed--and fall right into Roman's open hand. Lyons' brown eyes slowly moved to Naveen. No, Lyons wasn't the time to break the rules, but yes, he would take advantage of his power, especially in this situation. Ah, a banana. They were his favorite, and then apples next. He already had one of both on his plate, along with a small bunch of green grapes, but another wouldn't hurt.

Roman smiled mildly at Bayla's Sunday declaration. She would notice and know that he wasn't a man of chocolate. The texture it became as it started to melt in his maw made him gag. He could only assume that he'd grown up on less rich foods that those they ate in the military, his portions often foods originating as powder you added water to. In fact, after his surgery five years ago he'd hardly been able to eat anything, as everything he placed into his mouth caused him to vomit. As time went on, of course, he learned how to keep what he ate down. His favorite food was fruit with any kind of meat coming in second.

"Ehhh," he sighed as he thought, "I think I'd like to get some reading done, and maybe watch a movie. I've been more and more curious about what the earth was like in the past." He began looking at her, but as he said more his eyes moved down to his food, the slightest indication that he was somewhat embarrassed about what he was saying, though no color rose to his cheeks and he didn't stutter. The Specialist picked up his apple and considered it seriously before taking a well-placed bite.

"You want me to school you and make you sweaty before the broadcast?" He asked casually, gaze flickering over his apple at Bayla, the playfulness modifying nothing in his face or tone, only to be read in his words.

[Bayla Naveen]

Bayla had to consciously stop herself from wrinkling her nose in distaste when Roman mentioned reading. She'd always hated reading, found it boring and exhausting, the letters often jumbling up and mixing together on the page... Her grades when she was in school were testament to that fact, and even here in Gamma Base she had trouble with any written orders or work from their classroom instruction.

But, Roman could keep his reading. Far be it from her to dampen something that made him happy, even if she found talk of the past utterly... dreary. The past was past. She pointedly didn't say anything, only nodded her head with feigned interest. He was an odd man. Then again, she supposed she was an odd woman as well.

Specialist Naveen let out a bark of laughter, leaning forward over her tray and waggling her eyebrows at Roman, voice low and almost sultry, if Bayla were capable of being sultry. "Why, Lyons, it almost sounds like you're suggesting we do our duty to the Empire..." She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, eyebrows now fully raised and a smirk on her lips, "Because I know you can't be suggesting you can beat me at basketball." Opposite of Roman's style, Bayla's whole body and voice showed she was playing around; dark eyes twinkled, full lips twitched, head cocked ever so slightly to the side. She did so love playing with him.

[Roman Lyons]

When Roman has first met Bayla he'd been irritated by her. The pep and the playfulness had been a little too much for this rather boring fellow who preferred to read books and practice his power than chat and play games...but she'd been good for him. She taught him how to handle conversations with people, how to smile more, and even how to joke and flirt. Even if their relationship, their union, if you will, had been established by the government for a government, something fabricated from where Roman read, he'd still found many good things in having Bayla as a mate.

The Specialist's eyes flickered down to her collar, then a little further to the mounds on her chest. He was well accustomed to them.

"I could beat you in basketball and serve the Empire," his gaze returned to her eyes, unflinching, and his eyebrow quirked as he added, "well before the broadcast starts." And one side of his lips curved as the rest of his body took the notion and got excited about it. Though they were mates, they didn't share a bed. They didn't lay in the company of one another's arms all night like married people used to do back in the day--according to history books and old movies. Sex was more so a tool for reproduction than intimacy, and making the time to have it easily looked as rigid as marking it on a calendar, or even planning it out as meticulously as a mission.

Roman let his gaze linger, allowing Bayla to read everything his eyes said that his mouth didn't, and then, still smiling, he returned to his food, peeling the skin off of his second banana.

"Was your patrol yesterday above ground?" He turned things conversational. He could be like that. Avoid fun and stick to work and duty. The fortunate thing was, although Bayla loved to play, she was as dutiful as duty got.

[Bayla Naveen]

Bayla's eyes followed Roman's wandering gaze.  She couldn't say she wasn't a little bit excited at the prospect of a sly, sloppy, and salacious tryst in some empty room.  He was her partner, and a fine-looking man after all, and they did it quite well together... as far as she knew.  He'd been her only partner in this place, or ever.  To be honest, she occasionally found her eyes wandering where they perhaps shouldn't, to people they shouldn't, out of simple curiosity.

Today wasn't one of those eye-wandering days, however, and the look he gave her was - for lack of a better word - steamy.  Bayla quirked an eyebrow much as he did, sticking her tongue in her cheek and looking him up and down approvingly.  Before she could come up with an appropriately witty response, however, he flipped the switch to work.  She almost sighed; he could be infuriating when he did complete 180s like this... but then, she liked the challenge of drawing him back to less serious conversation.  It was like a game of tug-o-war, and they were rather evenly matched.

"Just a recon mission," she answered, leaning forward to break a piece off of his banana and pop it into her mouth with a sly wink.  "One of those idiot PFCs watching the screens thought she saw an SE beast."  Bayla scoffed, rolling her eyes, "It was one of those damn mutated deer, the ones with one and a half heads?  We had to go put the thing down so it wouldn't give Private Garret another aneurysm."  She shook her head.  Waste of ammo, if you asked her, shooting animals.  It was the Sudo Europeans and Kaipanese that needed bullets in their heads.

Shrugging, Bayla took a bite of her bread roll and made a face, dropping the rest of it back on her tray.  Seeds.  Why would they put damn seeds in the bread??  "What about you?  Didn't see you at all during work detail."  It didn't happen often considering they had the same job and often worked together, but occasionally they wouldn't even catch glimpses of each other on patrol.

[Roman Lyons]

If anyone else had taken Roman's food he would have reclaimed it using force. Bayla was the exception. That, and he saw the significance of her putting some of his banana in his mouth and enjoyed the humor, drawing his mouth into a white-toothed grin. He ate the rest of it in two easy bites as she spoke, and even claimed the roll Bayla had abandoned. Roman was easily a human trash can. He undoubtedly win any eating contests ever had...the day Unica was able to provide enough extra portions for such an event. Roman had read about a hot dog eating contest. He wasn't sure he'd ever had that kind of meat, but from the pictures in his book he was sure he would enjoy it.

"You used to be a PFC." Roman responded casually, not because he didn't agree that the woman was an idiot, but because Bayla's disdain seemed to seep deeper than just the woman. Or, maybe not. It would be the first time he'd misread his mate. He then thought about the deer, and wished he'd been there to run his hand over its hide, to look into the eyes of the terrified thing. Roman loved history books, and he loved to experience the things of the books first hand, even if they were mutated and distorted.

"I was out patrolling." Roman responded quickly, perhaps too quickly. It wasn't a lie. He was above ground too, suited up with the rest of them...only he'd opted to walk a route alone. He would not admit the rush it gave him to be above ground. He would not tell Bayla about the things he'd found and started collecting in a secret spot, just out of range of the all-seeing cameras. And he wouldn't tell anyone about the feeling that coursed through his body every time they returned to the city, every time they walked back into the underground cage and left the mutated above-ground world behind.

Roman had been staring. He snapped out of it, raising his warm brown eyes up to Bayla. Actually, he didn't want to talk about duty anymore.

"How about that basketball match?" He stuffed the last of his grapes in his mouth to finish his tray.

[Bayla Naveen]

Ignoring his comment about her having been a PFC (she damn well knew it, she wasn’t an idiot), Bayla gave Roman a strange look. Something about the way he said he was patrolling… she wasn’t sure he was telling the truth, or the whole truth anyways. But he could keep his secrets, he was a private man by nature, and she couldn’t really begrudge him that… too much. She herself was about as private as one of those old burlesque shows the recruits snuck pictures of every now and then; she had nothing to hide, and she certainly had no problems telling people whatever they wanted to know about her. The two of them made an odd pair, and they certainly didn’t always see eye to eye, but it was a comfortable enough friendship.

His silence, and the sudden change of subject, only confirmed what Bayla had suspected. She rolled her eyes and went with it, having years ago gotten over her overwhelming need to force every last drop of information out of him. It always ended in an argument, and most of the time it just wasn’t worth the effort - he never gave up his secrets anyways, even to someone as tenacious as his mate.

”Watch it, son, I won’t go easy on you on the court,” she warned with a devious glint in her dark eyes. She gulped down the last of her ration of water and stood, picking up her tray and nudging Roman’s boot with her own. ”Come on then, I’m in the mood to kick some ass - especially one so damn fine.” She waggled her eyebrows comically at him and pranced away, cackling, to go drop her empty tray in the wash bin.

[End Thread]