10-09-2025, 01:50 AM
(This post was last modified: 10-09-2025, 01:58 AM by Hallowette Maxas-Darl.)
==Ens. Oliver "Ollie" Pearson==
As the briefing concluded the parties began to break up into pairs and cliques, close friends chatting amongst themselves and preparing what gear hadn't been seen to prior. Oliver joked lightly with a couple of the deck crew that were working in the area before turning his attention to the pilot again. Her unease was under control, but it was obvious to the veteran security man that she would likely need help donning the armor, especially as it could be tricky to fit over a non standard utility uniform such as a flight suit - a choice that Ollie had found interesting in itself.
The young slim hybrid was folding the armor this way and that, setting it against herself to check the fit, but certainly unfamiliar with it.
“What’s this then—armour givin’ ya grief, eh? Don’t worry, kid, I’ll sort the bastard out. Been wranglin’ Starfleet kit since before you knew how to spell tacti-cool.”
Ollie sashayed over with that easy, lopsided grin, giving her a wink as he lifted the chest plate and set it in her arms before stepping behind to untangle the maze of straps and buckles.
“Name’s Pearson, but my mates all call me Ollie. You got a name there, Flight Suit?”
The young woman blushed, her fair skin taking on the same hue as the scarlet tunic peeking from her collar. “Uhm… Darl—Maxas-Darl. My name’s Hallowette. Hally, if you’d like.” Her voice wavered between shyness and surprise at the officer’s unfiltered charm.
“Pleasure, love,” Ollie said, his tone warm but unhurried. For all his size and swagger, his hands were surprisingly gentle as he settled the armour across her shoulders. “Combat gear’s easy once you’ve done it a time or three, but it can be a real ass to figure on your own. Take it you haven’t strapped in since the sims back in Sanny Fran?”
Hallowette grunted softly as he cinched the buckle, then eased the pressure until it sat comfortably. “Yeah, haven’t had much cause to wear it since then,” she admitted.
“Ah, the poor fly-types always get stuck in sideways when we’re doin’ shuttle insertions,” he chuckled. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. Between Calleja, Svenny, Miller, and yours truly, you’re in good hands.” He gave another wink as he finished the final strap check and stepped back to look her over. “Right as rain, Flight Suit. Looks good on ya.”
He nodded to the young tactical officer, flashing a cocky grin as she thanked him for the assist. “No worries, kid. See ya out there.”
Ollie had just turned when another voice—warm, teasing, and far too familiar—cut through the hangar noise.
“I want you back in one piece this time, understood, Mister?” she quipped, one brow arched. “But seriously—take care down there. You still owe me that drink when this is over.”
Ollie’s grin shifted from cocksure to genuine, the corners of his eyes softening.
"Ahh, you know me, Ard. Always happy to cock up a mission, 'specially if it’ll impress a girl.” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck before his voice dropped to something more sincere. “But yeah… I’ll do ya a solid and try not to do anything *too* stupid.”
He gave her a look that lingered just a moment too long. “Wouldn’t wanna jeopardize that drink with a beautiful—” he caught himself, grin widening—“with the beautiful lady.”
Svenson left it at that and disappeared into the shuttle. Ollie watched her go, the expression lingering a beat before he noticed the pilot—Hallowette—grinning despite herself.
He straightened, clearing his throat, then shrugged with mock seriousness. “Yeah, nah - She digs me.”
Hallowette’s grin widened to match his own. “Oh, no, for sure,” she replied, playing along with perfect deadpan.
==preliftoff tags! The two will enter the shuttle after this exchange and take their seats==
As the briefing concluded the parties began to break up into pairs and cliques, close friends chatting amongst themselves and preparing what gear hadn't been seen to prior. Oliver joked lightly with a couple of the deck crew that were working in the area before turning his attention to the pilot again. Her unease was under control, but it was obvious to the veteran security man that she would likely need help donning the armor, especially as it could be tricky to fit over a non standard utility uniform such as a flight suit - a choice that Ollie had found interesting in itself.
The young slim hybrid was folding the armor this way and that, setting it against herself to check the fit, but certainly unfamiliar with it.
“What’s this then—armour givin’ ya grief, eh? Don’t worry, kid, I’ll sort the bastard out. Been wranglin’ Starfleet kit since before you knew how to spell tacti-cool.”
Ollie sashayed over with that easy, lopsided grin, giving her a wink as he lifted the chest plate and set it in her arms before stepping behind to untangle the maze of straps and buckles.
“Name’s Pearson, but my mates all call me Ollie. You got a name there, Flight Suit?”
The young woman blushed, her fair skin taking on the same hue as the scarlet tunic peeking from her collar. “Uhm… Darl—Maxas-Darl. My name’s Hallowette. Hally, if you’d like.” Her voice wavered between shyness and surprise at the officer’s unfiltered charm.
“Pleasure, love,” Ollie said, his tone warm but unhurried. For all his size and swagger, his hands were surprisingly gentle as he settled the armour across her shoulders. “Combat gear’s easy once you’ve done it a time or three, but it can be a real ass to figure on your own. Take it you haven’t strapped in since the sims back in Sanny Fran?”
Hallowette grunted softly as he cinched the buckle, then eased the pressure until it sat comfortably. “Yeah, haven’t had much cause to wear it since then,” she admitted.
“Ah, the poor fly-types always get stuck in sideways when we’re doin’ shuttle insertions,” he chuckled. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. Between Calleja, Svenny, Miller, and yours truly, you’re in good hands.” He gave another wink as he finished the final strap check and stepped back to look her over. “Right as rain, Flight Suit. Looks good on ya.”
He nodded to the young tactical officer, flashing a cocky grin as she thanked him for the assist. “No worries, kid. See ya out there.”
Ollie had just turned when another voice—warm, teasing, and far too familiar—cut through the hangar noise.
“I want you back in one piece this time, understood, Mister?” she quipped, one brow arched. “But seriously—take care down there. You still owe me that drink when this is over.”
Ollie’s grin shifted from cocksure to genuine, the corners of his eyes softening.
"Ahh, you know me, Ard. Always happy to cock up a mission, 'specially if it’ll impress a girl.” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck before his voice dropped to something more sincere. “But yeah… I’ll do ya a solid and try not to do anything *too* stupid.”
He gave her a look that lingered just a moment too long. “Wouldn’t wanna jeopardize that drink with a beautiful—” he caught himself, grin widening—“with the beautiful lady.”
Svenson left it at that and disappeared into the shuttle. Ollie watched her go, the expression lingering a beat before he noticed the pilot—Hallowette—grinning despite herself.
He straightened, clearing his throat, then shrugged with mock seriousness. “Yeah, nah - She digs me.”
Hallowette’s grin widened to match his own. “Oh, no, for sure,” she replied, playing along with perfect deadpan.
==preliftoff tags! The two will enter the shuttle after this exchange and take their seats==