Locklear's Cabin, 08.21.23, 1800 hours, Guadalajara time
The nose of Locklear's Guardian glowed white hot as it cut through Guadalajara's atmosphere, streaking towards the cloud obscured mountainside. He frowned as water began to pool on the cockpit glass before his ship broke the cloud layer, touching down beside his cabin in the midst of the thunderstorm. It looked like there wouldn't be any hunting today. He sighed and looked upwards, hoping Kelly was alright following him in - this was her first time planetside, after all.
Kelly followed him in at a bit of a distance. She read the manuals about planetary landing and Locklear had assured her this was the right vector for entering Guadalajara's atmosphere without the assistance of a proper docking ring, but she was still a little nervous. Her piloting instincts didn't fail her, though, and after a few moments she came barreling down through the cloud cover, before pulling up sharply and speaking over the local radio. "Whew, this gravity's a bloody trip, huh?"
Locklear laughed, his voice crackling over the comms as he popped open his fighter's canopy. "How'd you like popping your atmo cherry?" "I don't count it 'til I breathe the air. Recycled doesn't count and lookin' at you down there, I just learned I don't care for heights. Where's our landin' pad?" "Pad?" He laughed again. "The spot without trees, next to my Guardian."
"Oh. Well, alright." She had been circling slowly around the cabin 'til now, but at his cue she slowly moved to touch down, fighter rocking from side to side just a little bit. Not like she was used to the winds, but she guessed it wasn't too different from strafing away from an exploding Overlord-class.'I'll get better with practice'was her thought as she touched down for good, pushing open the canopy and pulling her helmet off. She just stared at the horizon for a moment afterwards.
The horizon was gray, set on a backdrop of gray with more gray beyond. Her immediate surroundings however were a bit more intriguing. To her right were trees, with stones and moss and grass beneath them. The forest was filled with strange noises from strange creatures, and looked dark yet inviting if not for the torrential downpour. To the left was Locklear's Guardian and beyond it his cabin, built into the side of a large mountain, a singular peak in a range which seemed to span the entirety of the planet.
Locklear walked over to Kelly, holding his helmet with one hand and extending the other to her. "Gravity's a bitch the first time around."
Kelly looked down at him, not much of an expression on her face, before taking his hand and leaving her helmet in the cockpit. She hopped down, her spacesuit's boots squishing a little in the moist ground, before she frowned. "I think I'm gonna be fuckin' sick." "Whiskey-breathing, dreadnought-slaying freedom fighter's afraid of a little mud?" He grinned at her. "It gets easier, promise."
Kelly shook her head, going pale. "It's not the mud, it's the- fuck me."
She turned around, almost placing her hands against the wing of the Guardian before remembering how hot it would be after just performing atmospheric entry, and settled for using her knees as support instead, promptly losing her lunch.
He waited for her to finish heaving before putting an arm around Kelly and smiling softly at her. "I'm sorry... we'll take it slow. It's hard to remember that not everyone has stood on terra firma before when you spend the first eighteen years of your life on Denver is all."
Another bout of quarter-digested freeze-dried imitation salmon landed right in front of Kelly's boots as Locklear finished speaking, before she pushed herself back up and wiped her mouth off. "God, I'd say something like, 'and people live like this?' but I'm not an idiot and you probably had the same trouble when you went into space for the first time."
"Hey, hey, relax.. you're fine. Let's get you inside, and.. get something with less vomit on you." He walked towards the cabin, keeping his arm around Kelly to keep her steady as they followed the uneven stone path up to the door.
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Kelly wrapped an arm around Locklear's chest, following him inside. "The air is humid. It feels nice. Not so 'tinny' as it is on Hesperia." "I try to make sure I never take home for granted... the only thing that beats fresh air is fresh food, but I probably shouldn't go there, huh?"
Kelly laughed, gently pushing Locklear away as they entered the cabin. "Nah, say what you like. But some water would be grand, though." She put one hand up against the doorframe and took a deep breath, totally not embarassed even a bit.
"Major Kelly With." He looked at her sternly but spoke with just a hint of playfulness in his voice. "There is a couch two meters to your right. You'll sit."
She brought her free hand up to her brow, giving the laziest salute Locklear had seen in at least a good while. "Oh, yes sir, right away." She smirked and took another breath before walking over - more confidently, now - to the couch and plopping down with a gentle sigh of relief as Locklear disappeared into another room, presumably to acquire the water she ordered.
Looking around and doing her best to observe her surroundings, Kelly noticed rifles hung from walls, made of wood and steel instead of polymers. The cabin was also adorned with a number of paintings and dead animals of various sorts presumably only found on Guadalajara, and across the livingroom was an open glass door with a desk beyond it, covered in old, weather-worn papers.
Returning from the kitchen, Locklear strutted over to her, sitting down beside her and handing her a glass of water, which she took thankfully. In his other hand he had another glass, of distinctive amber liquid on ice. He took a sip, leaning back and stretching his legs. Kelly made herself comfortable on the couch, even going so far as to cross her legs while she leaned back and observed the decor. She took a particular interest in the guns.
"What's that there?" She said, while pointing at one of them. "Which one?" He tried to follow her finger, but couldn't quite tell if she was pointing to the rifle on the top or the bottom. "Either of them." She took a drink from the glass of water, closing her eyes. "Tell me what I was just looking at." "Top's a .30-06 lever action. Mid sized game. One on the bottom's a .22 LR, good for small shit, pest control." "Mmh. So those are guns? What kind of gun's made outta wood?" "Real guns, Kelly. Real guns. You'll get it once you get to use one."
Locklear smiled, taking another sip of whiskey and looking out the window. "It'll be dark by the time the storm passes, and every animal with a brain is somewhere warm and dry right now."
Kelly brought a hand up and rubbed her head, before running her pale fingers through her red hair. "Warm and dry here, too, but there's no animals," she teased. "Sure there are, if we're being technical here." He grinned, stretching before getting up to head to his room. "We'll leave tomorrow, and you'll get to fire one of those rifles. As for right now.. they might be a little loose in some places and tight in others, but I've got clothes without vomit on them." "Sounds good to me. I don't like sleeping in the flightsuit anyway." She set the glass of water precariously on the arm of the couch, pulling herself up to a standing position. "I haven't fired a gun since I was a little girl, actually..." "You'll get to do it again soon, then."
Locklear took her hand, leading her through the cabin into the bedroom. It was small, but cozy, with a large bed, an end table with a stack of books on top, and a window half cracked open to let some of the fresh forest air in. On the right, there was a dresser - again made of wood, a running trend here - with old brass handles. Locklear plopped down on the bed, stretching out on his back.
"Help yourself."
Kelly leaned back and stretched her arms before opening the dresser, looking through its contents. It occurred to her that, even in his room, she'd never seen Locklear in anything particularly 'casual-looking', so seeing what he kept in his personal abode was an interesting experience for her. One drawer was full of loose shirts T-shirts, tank tops, jeans, and underwear. Not very organized. After having picked out a gray shirt and pair of sweatpants for herself, she turned back to the bed. Locklear laughed nervously for the first time since Kelly'd met him, but looked her dead in the eye nonetheless.
"I've never seen you out of uniform, you know."
"Aye, I guess not." She looked down and pulled off her flight jacket, revealing the black tanktop underneath, and walked over to the edge of the bed, tossing the jacket aside as she sat down. "I'm nothing special, really," as she began to pull her boots off. She would've had to've been blind not to notice Locklear's eyes wandering, clearly in disagreement with her statement. Blind she was not, but she pretended not to notice anyway as she wiggled out of the hi-tech, dull grey fiber pants every other Legion pilot wore most of the day.
"You were right sleepy just a moment ago, weren't you."
He smiled, still just barely able to look her in the eye. "I can sleep on the couch if you want." "That wouldn't be right. S'your bed. And sleeping alone does get lonely, I'll give you that." She sat back up to reach for the blanket, pulling it over top the two of them up to about chest level. "We'll talk in the morning, aye?" "Well.. in that case.." He reached one arm around her shoulder, holding her tight and resting his head against her neck. "Yeah.. in the morning."
Kelly rubbed Locklear's shoulder gently, closed her eyes, and wondered if being planetside was always this nice.