Chapter 84: In Which Gale Suffers More

Normally, Yeoman Sarah Gale didn't really like watching Wash eat. The battleship was… stunningly pretty to say the least, with slender waist that her tight uniform only accented and broad hips that flowed into that tiny skirt of hers.

Gale wasn't quite jealous of the battleship's figure, or her ability to maintain it even after gluttony sessions that'd leave Gale moaning on the floor clutching her bloated stomach a tenth of the way though. She didn't quite like it, but she was getting to the point where she could accept it.

After all, she'd seen poor Wash shaking with hunger when her dinner was a few hours late. Gale really didn't want to see that again, it took all her composure not to give the trembling battleship a headpat and a hug.

But… if she was honest, there was something relaxing about watching the battleship consume her meals. Wash ate with a measured temp. She'd pick a nicely-sized morsel out with her fork, pop it in her mouth, and chew with ladylike composure. There was a calm and tranquility to it that just flowed from her serene presence. The zen of gluttony, or something like that.

It made Gale feel at ease just watching it. And at the same time, it made the battleship feel more… solid for lack of another term. Not just a girl in a fancy outfit, but a spirit of steel and fire standing firm against the rising tide of the abyss.

Of course… it didn't help that Wash's bulging breasts squished against the table every time she leaned down. That wasn't the main reason Gale liked watching Wash eat, but it certainly helped.

That was her story. She was sticking to it.

"Mmm…" Gale sighed happily as Wash fished out a small morsel of Salisbury steak. A happy smile passed the battleship's queenly face, and the already taut fabric of her uniform puckered just so over those perfectly plump upper works.

The sailor lazily spun her fork in her spaghetti, her gaze still hovering dreamily over the oblivious battleship. And then the doors exploded open with a sound of cannon shots.

"WHA-" Gale lept out of her chair in surprise, and promptly fell flat on her ass.

"I, MUSASHI," thundered… apparently Musashi, "Have Arrived!"

"Kongou's here!" added the bubbly half-aware giggle of… well, the Dessboat. "Dess!"

"Kirishima here," finished a calmer voice—for Kongou-class standards of calm. "Mic Check, one, two, three!"

Gale scrambled to her feet with a scowl on her face. They just had to ruin a perfectly-good Wash-watching evening, didn't they…

Kirishima bounced—yes, literally bounced. That much jiggle had to hurt like hell—over to Wash's table and calmly asked to join her. Wash gave her a polite smile, a nod, and then resumed consuming her dinner with her usual stoic grace.

Kirishima, apparently spurned on by the battleship's disinterest, took her seat with a huff. The converted battlecruiser propped her chin up with her palms, squeezing the assets she had for all they were worth with her forearms. And then she crossed her legs just so, drawing her already short nontraditional-Miko skirt up dangerously high.

Again, if Wash even noticed, the serene battlehsip didn't show it. But that could mean literally anything. Wash was hard as hell to read at the best of times. And observing from across the room while trying to tune out two other crazy Japanese battleships was far from the best of times.

"Hey, Sailor!" Kongou's bubbly accented English exploded mere inches from Gale's ear. "Is this seat open, Dess?"

"Gah!" Gale yelped in surprise and, for the second time in almost as many minutes, fell flat on her ass. "Don't do that!"

Kongou tilted her head in that adorably confused puppy-dog look. "What?" she asked, bringing a single finger to her chin.

Gale sighed, and shook her head. "Never mind," she sighed, brushing herself off and picking herself off the floor. "How can I help you, ma'am?"

"I'd like to sit with you!" Kongou beamed at Gale. "This is the perfect place for observing Kirishima-chan's romance!"

Gale fumed. But then again… well, she couldn't exactly complain. She was the one stalking Wash from a distance, Kirishima at least had the guts to do so from up close. "F-fine, ma'am."

"Don't worry, Dess!" Kongou hooked one arm around Gale's. "Kirishima-chan's infatuated, but she's not the aim of Washington's Burning Love!" The insane Japanese battleship gave Gale a pointed wink.

Gale blushed beet red and squirmed in her chair. "How could you—"

"Janes', dess!"

Gale blinked. "But-"

"Janes'!" Kongou ended the conversation by shoving a freshly-baked strawberry scone into Gale's mouth.

Gale shrugged.

And then she noticed something she'd been trying very very hard to tune out.

Musashi.

The towering—though not quite as stupendously huge as Jersey—battleship sashayed her way down the serving line, adding more and more to her mountainous tray at each station. And she was wearing a shirt.

Well, for certain definitions of wearing anyways. The crisp black garment was only zipped up to the base of her bustline. Either she wanted absolutely everyone to see her cleavage or (and more likely, in Gale's opinion) there was just no way in hell boobs that big were ever gonna fit into a shirt or shirt-like thing.

Gale scowled, and hunched down so her own chest was shadowed. Stupid sexy battleships…

And worse yet, Musashi seemed to realize it. Unlike Wash, who was blissfully ignorant of her gallons of sex appeal, Musashi seemed to make a point to lean waaaaaaaay over every time she saw something even mildly interesting. She'd shake her hips while she walked and shake… other…. areas too.

"Uh, Gale-san?" Kongou shot the sailor a look.

"Huh?"

"What did that pasta ever do to you?"

Gale cocked an eyebrow, then realized she'd been grinding her spaghetti into a fine paste with her fork ever since Musashi stepped though the doors. "Oh…"

Kongou just shugged, and ruffled the sailor's hair with a smile.

And then Jersey walked in.

Wearing some kind of… tailored vest thing that put her tits on full display instead of hiding them under layers of downy padding.

Jersey spotted Musashi.

Musashi spotted Jersey.

The American narrowed her icy blue eyes to frozen slits.

Gale swore she heard the The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly theme start up. No, scratch that, she did hear that song. Courtesy of Kongou. "Dessboat!" Gale hissed and elbowed the battleship in the ribs.

"What?" Kongou stopped her singing, but Kirishima had already took up the chorus—complete with well-timed tapping of silverware against glasses and plates for the instrumental accompaniment.

Gale grunted in frustration and face-planted in her dinner.

"It's showtime," growled Jersey in her surprisingly accurate Austrian accent.

"Oh god," Gale mumbled into her pasta. She could handle the two super-battleships constant dick-measuring contests. But if they got into an Ahnold off…

"You sure," grunted back Musashi, "They're not tumors?"

"Deah naht tumahs!" thundered Jersey. There was a squishy sound followed by a ring of steel on steel. Someone was groping someone else, though Gale wasn't sure if Musashi started it or was shanghaied into it by Jersey.

"I live," grunted Gale, "With idiots."

"Dess!"