Prompt: Death, death, death, death, death, lunch
"Death, death and more death," Joker said around a full mouth of chow. It sounded more like, "def, def, un mrr def," and it was enough to drive Ashley to drinking.
So she did.
The energy drink really didn't have the bite she was looking for or the pleasant warm feeling as it ran down her gullet or the fuzzy vision alcohol produced after imbibing too many, but it forced her to focus on something other than the pilot. The terrible taste across her tongue did nothing to help her mood.
Serving on the Normandy was an honor, but...
Who the hell was this guy? She just got on this ship and this dude was already getting on her nerves. It just figured that he was the helmsman. And he wore a cover. And he had LT-pips on his collar. Just what she needed after everything that had gone down on Eden Prime.
At least he had elbows.
As he droned on and on and on about intricacies of flying over a battlefield, she toyed with the idea that he might be a lifer like she was, but the way he disrespected just about everyone but his second, Dr. Chakwas, and the Captain made her question whether he'd be served Big Chicken Dinner just for his mouth.
Captain's Mast at the very least.
Very, very least.
When Navigator Pressly joined them in the mess, he leveled the helmsman with a stare, raising his eyebrow for effect.
"You're no fun, Pressly," Joker said, shoveled more food into his mouth. Huh. Ash would need to get Pressly around Joker more often. At least Joker had a modicum of respect for Pressly. Hardly anyone dicked with Pressly. Alenko had given her a short run down of who not to piss off. Pressly was one of them. He was good at his job and had his opinions.
"Don't get on his bad side," Alenko had warned. "Let him warm up to you."
The navigator gave a labored sigh. "The commander's out of commission and one of our colonies gets hit hard by geth, and you're shooting the breeze with one of the survivors like it's nothing." He crossed his arms when Joker looked at Ash confusedly. "Death, death, death, death, death-"
"Lunch," Ash interrupted. "Let's talk about lunch."
Pressly nodded. "Don't eat the shit-on-the-shingle. It's space cow; not the real vat-grown beef. Rogers put in the wrong order on Arcturus."
Ash looked down at her creamed chipped beef on toast with a frown. "Damn it. I thought it was stringy."
Joker handed her the horseradish. "Makes everything better."