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Chapter Text

The tell tale of distressed gagging on her side made Camilla stop mid bag rummaging just in time to see her dear friend leaning half his truck overboard.

“Why are there always carrots? I didn't even eat carrots!” Milo babbled.

“Rather than that. I would dare to ask, which food the carrots where floating on.” Camilla winced, passing a fabric tissue to Milo.

The aforementioned lunch’s moist texture must appeared in Milo’s mind, judging by how he suppressed a gag by covering his mouth with the hand-chief.

A sudden metallic hack of speaker made the two perk up their ears.

“Attention. All hands to the launch bay.”

…

“…this must be quite a friendly working place for indulge into such townish pranks,” Camilla noted, while admiring a whole wagon being lifted above her head.

Milo didn’t responded, too caught into cluelessly trying to get the attention of any of the sailors that were currently racing around the area in a working frenzy.

His face lightened a bit when a presumably a high-ranking soldier, dressed in a fine coat, smoothly descended from a metal ladder right in front of him. “E-excuse me?” He speed to them.

“I need to…ahm…report in?”

The blond soldier slowly faced him. “Yes Mr Thatch.” A very known, deep and velvety voice spoke from the mid shadows.

“Ah-A! It’s you!” Milo’s stammered, shrinking in his shoulders.

The statuary woman threw a bored expression at him. “Mr Thatch, and…” Her sharp questioning gaze, was now thrown to Camilla’s standing figure a few feet away.

“Erm. She’s Camilla Frabbi? My flat mate? ” Milo spoke unsure, soon-ly worried that the info about the addition to the passenger’s list wasn’t passed.

At hearing her name Camilla looked up at Milo, without expecting to set her eyes over the most mind scorching femme she ever saw in her life. Camilla felt her breath instantly stuck in her throat.

Seeing Milo motioning her to come closer, she shook her head, steeling herself for the conversation, rapidly making a beeline for the two with a greet.

Helga’s brows arched warily. “I wasn’t informed the expedition has suddenly become an trip agency for bookish academics.” She said, scanning Camilla sternly.

Camilla blinked, unexpectedly growing a slight blush over her cheeks. “I got taken by the people of the mission when they came to retrieve Milo’s personal effects and his cat in our apartment,” She spoke in a breath, fidgeting with her stocky tetrahedral earrings. “They also were quite stunned back then to say the least! After i explained that i lived there along with Milo they kind of gently persuaded me to take part of the expedition…boy! They sure are strict with the whole 'no witnesses policy'!” Camilla nervously laughed with a goofy smile.

The woman’s deadpan scarcely grew into a smirk. “How observant.” She hummed.

Camilla exchanged a loopsided smile, fully oblivious to the woman’s sarcastic stare, too invested into trying to tell apart the essences of the woman's stingy-almost earthly perfume.

“…I hope you’ve brought to us, a skilful profession along with yourself Mrs Frabbi.”

Camilla’s eyes widened in surprise, hearing her surname spelled in perfect Italian accent. “I-in which sense?”

“Women and men that happen to be into this expedition has been chosen after the sterling skills of theirs for a specific job. Everyone got tasks to do. Even Mr Thatch here.”

She paused evenly on the last addition, making Milo and Camilla exchanged a wordless confused look.

“…how could you be, of any help onto the mission?” She sighed rolling her eyes.

“O-oh that! I apologise!” Camilla blurted. “I’m quite prolific in scientific illustrations, i thought that i could be keeping an illustrated journal for every artefact and discoveries we’ll meet along the path, Also I think Milo- I mean- Mr Thatch would gladly accept a bit of help onto keep a documented drawn track of everything we’ll see.”

“A similar work has already been conferred I’m afraid. We have a photographer in the crew Mrs Frabbi.” The woman threw back a rebellious strand of blond hairs. “A wieldy medium in comparison to a nib and inkwell you will come to reason.”

Camilla stood motionless a second, then made to take something out her bag. “This is the pier from which the ship departed this morning,” Camilla carefully handed to the woman’s gloved hands a drawing block. “…charcoal and pencil. Those boat’s finishes and the hues of the sky, are watercolours. I managed to take different points of view of the place. This took me about 10 minutes.” Camilla spoke clearly, fumbling a bit with her heavy jacket’s lapels. “What I’m trying to say is that I won't be prefaced with titles here, but I assure you that this won't stop me from at least trying doing a helpful job… but In case this won’t be enough i’ll accept whatever task you'll give me.”

The woman pursued her strongly shaped lips, looking at the sketches filled art book. Hers look, otherwise the cockiness, unreadable. She meticulously passed a gloved finger around the edges of her tinted red matte lips in a pensive motion, making Camilla involuntarily looking transfixed at it.

After a moment that felt stretching forever the woman silently handed back the art block to Camilla. “Mr Thatch.”

“Y-yes!” Milo almost squaked, involuntarily straightening his back.

“...You’ll keep your adjutant, by remembering that this is an expedition, not a jammies party with friends" She paused. "...even if Mr Whitmore would say otherwise. And Mrs Frabbi, a word of advice.”

Camilla stiffened. Already regretting the loose tongue she used before, looking in religious silence the woman whom slightly inclined her head down to her.

Oh dear. Her eyes are so green.

“Nice drawings. But please. Keep yourself in line.”

(…)

…...OH GOD

OH GOD…

OH. GOD.

SHE’S HOT.

Camilla managed to think, through a dazed brain.

Her head was currently split in half, one side jolting through the adrenaline rush following her attempt to step forward in defence of the work of the artist- Oh gosh she felt so silly now. From where did this nerve even come from - the other side was growing and tingling sense of...sense of well... interest , towards the person they just met.

Why is the world is testing me like this. Camilla sighed mentally, while the woman’s smouldering gaze fell ungraciously over Milo again.

Why this woman even felt the need to flex as much? She seems carved after a statue! Camilla straightened a sigh

Her gaze? What about her gaze?? Camilla furtively looked at rhe woman's eyes again.

…That’s it. I’m finished.

THEY EVEN GOT A RICH BRONZE HUE AROUND THE CENTRE. 

She got quite a refined taste, judging by the cut of her coat and fine turtleneck sweater.

…OH…

…How could they come unnoticed.

The fuckin. High heeled. Lustrous leather. Boots.

She’s already a tall woman, and chooses to be even taller? While wearing killer make up? On a multimillionaire expedition to the unknown? Damn. That was a statement. That is. That is pure Legend material.

“Blondie!” A raspy voice cried from nearby, making the woman of Camilla’s mind-numbing dreams frown with a silent exasperated sigh before going after him.

The older man seemingly be named “Cookie” was evidently buggered by something for which animosity he was talking through, a sentiment not quite matched by the woman, whom wasn’t hiding her visible discontentment.

Camilla’s heart jumped a beat. The woman side eyed her, skimming up and down her form before finally drawing her attention again to the white bearded man in a carriage.

“Her name is Helga Sinclair.” Milo murmured low.

“Uh?” Camilla prompted, stuck in her biggest trance.

“She works as a personal assistant for Preston Whitmore.”

Camilla nodded absentmindedly, half following the argument happening in front of them steadily growing more heated, half realising that the love of her life maybe wouldn’t have followed them in the adventure. A pang of sadness washed over her.

“Cami,”

“Yeah...”

“Are you on your way to ask for a cigarette or...?”

“Uhh?”

“…I thought you were x raying her with your eyes. Gosh. What she has under there? A whole carousel?”

“H-hei!” Camilla lamented, now fully on point. “I wasn’t doing it so blatantly!” She mumbled, while adjusting her copper brow flat hat. “…….i was?”

Milo lowered his glasses giving her That. Look.

Then sudden cry of an alarm made the population of the hangar stop on their tracks.

“Attention. All hands to the launch bay.”

“...all right cowboy. Pack it up. And move it out!” Helga commanded to Cookie, hastily marching away.

Huh. She even didn't tell us fare well... In that moment Camilla felt the soul leaving her for unknown shores. “This just feels like when you witness as a kid the inevitable fall of the ice cream on the ground- but like 100 times worse.”

“And that would be…proportionally speaking…?”

“I’m never been this close have a faggot crisis man.

“Maybe she’ll tag along? She doesn’t quite match the indoor type.” Milo pushed up his glasses, giving a tentatively reassuring smile.

“Do you think i might have overstepped before?"

"I wouldn't give much weight to that. We're here right? We did't get threw overboard- that's a win! Also she was quite acting a bit short minded. You did good."

The two walked silently a bit, following the flow of people to the aforementioned launch bay.

"...how much she could be short minded?" Camilla quizzed.

"How so?"

"You think she might be rooting for us?” She whispered conspiratorially, while both of them followed a group of women and men in military uniforms in a massive elevator.

“For middle-short sized silly guys? Gosh i hope so.” Milo smirked dorkly.

“Oh. Graceful me. Let she be, or also be, into girls.”

“Given how you were making a total buffoon of yourself a few moments back. She must have understood that at least you are,” He huffed jokingly, making way through the mass of sturdy bodies.

A stupid loves tucked smile bloomed on Camilla face. She sighed dreamy. “But i could be. Hers. Buffoon.”

“Aw Cami. We’re not even aboard.” Milo adjusted his round glasses, looking in wonder at the elevator’s intricate enginery. “What if she turns out to be happily engaged? Or the meanest person on earth?"

“I’ll launch myself to the Atlantic ocean then. You can keep my things.”

Milo's mouth took the shape of a dismayed 'o'. “You better be not leaving me alone into this situation!”

The elevator's sudden stop ride, made the two stumble on their feet.

“Then you’ll have to withstand my inconsolable broken heart weep for the time being, amico mio.”

Milo’s brow furrowed. “Maybe. I could be the one to launch himself overboard.”

“Ow c’mon. I totally hate you.” Camilla playfully pushed him, both reeling in a short giggle.

They took few steps further but then Camilla stood on her tracks as struck by a sudden thought.

"What's the matter?" Milo asked worriedly.

“...How she knew i’m an academic?”

…

The embark followed, and barely few feet into the submarine's entrance, Camilla already lost track of Milo. At some point someone called him from the crowd, and Milo walked drawn to it, choosing to carelessly leaving Camilla’s hand. Vain where the efforts to reach for him, so she cornered by a metal pillar to avoid the constant mass of people walking past her, beginning to frustratingly thinking how to find and met with Milo again.

“First timer?” A low monotone voice with an accent shockingly familiar spoke above her.

Looking up she saw a long and squared moustached man mildly leant on a upper walkaway. Growing overwhelmed by the casual elbowing of the crowd, Camilla exchanged a wordless look of help to the stranger.

The man scrunched his thick brows nodding, then pointed with a gloved hand the ladder nearby her.

Sighing in relief, she threw her bags on her back, mouthing a silent “Thank you” to him swiftly climbing the ladder.

…

Instantly Camilla saw through to the man as an easy-going guy. He is…quite collected for a demolition expert. Camilla thought. But then…how many demolitions expert she saw in her life?

“Che mm’è venga un colpo. Na’ picciotta del paese mio.” The man named Vincenzo “Vinny” exclaimed, bringing his gloved hands to his head, while walking Camilla to the sleeping quarters.

“Anche tu, fuggita dall’Italia sei?” He asked in a quirky quizzed awe plastered under his jet-black eyebrows.

Barely caught her breath back after all the ramps and stairs, she took a raspy breath in. “Well…um…more or less. Call it a backwards-Grand Tour, i came to America to travel around. See places…faces…meanwhile I search work whenever I settle for a bit. I’ll return to Italy for the summer break, if everything goes right.” Camilla smiled tiredly, putting down her bag.

Vinny posed crookedly, giving to Camilla the impression of a dazed stork after a shot too many of sambuca. He was giving total drinking buddy vibes to get tipsy along with. She memo-ed that for later.

“...you’re mad turning back for august-! Better September. There’re lessen tourists between your bal-“

”-boy! You’ll share room with us?” A cocky, heavy accented voice called from the sleeping unit’s entrance. “You better be not talkative as Vinny when you sleep.” The dark haired teen in overalls glared at her, leaning arm crossed on the door.

Camilla blinked, not expecting to see a teenager aboard. “As far as i know, i’m quite a silent sleeper,” She said, quickly recollecting herself. “In case of the contrary, feel free to nudge me anytime!”

“I sure will.” She smirked thought a pout.

The screech of the speaker came to life again announcing tonight’s menu, by the description, frighting-ly similar to the morning one. A second announcement made Camilla perk up her ears when the speaker made her Milo's name, inviting him to come on the Submarine’s bridge.

“I think we should head there.” The teen said, retrieving a pair of heavy working gloves from the bunk bed. “...by the way, i didn’t catch your name,” She inclined her head looking at Camilla.

“Camilla Frabbi. What about you?”

“Audrey. Audrey Ramirez.”

“Wilhelmina Packard.”

Camilla, Vinny and Audrey turned their heads to the speaker.There was a beat of silence.

“Isn’t this actually…you know. Invasion of the privacy?" Vinny argued, with unflappable phlegm.

“I serve as a communication officer, not a reclaim center.” With that, the speaker fried to an halt.

“Shall we go then?” Camilla prompted.

The other two agreed with a nod.

Chapter Text

The rapid succession of events that happened in those hours were starting to weigh down on Camilla, and were particularly felt, under the form of a circular tightness pulsating around her temples. 

Camilla caressed her forehead pensively with the pad of two fingers. A balancing gesture, as to soothe the annoying feeling away. Being a person that usually wasn’t prone to headaches, having one usually meant that something unknown was currently off with her, and of course, she wasn’t still aware of it. Camilla massaged her temples a bit more, mentally listing all the possible conditions responsible for her current state since her departure from Washington. 

“Gosh,” she held a scoff. Realization strucking her at once, “i haven’t slept for twenty four hours straight." she murmured to herself, not heard by the two crew members she trailed behind. That’s something she hasn’t experienced in a while, maybe since…since the high school years?! Images of few particularly WILD parties flashed in her eyes, making her remember that since she came to cohabit with Milo, they actually never had thrown parties in the new apartment. And that…was something to correct as soon as they got back to the continent. A home inhabited by two students or young workers of sorta can't be called as such if you don’t feast in it along with other greater party animals in your same situation. What would be  the point of having an apartment as a free willed adult then? 

Ouch. A short stabby twinge at the side of the temples, made her flinch,

alright, focus….What was i thinking about again? Prior topic…the sleepless night!…better to say, sleepless day…(Ow-ow) ….well, it would also quite explain the light drunk-ness that was fogging her thoughts a bit right now. She squinted her eyes shut, ruffling the hairs under the hat as if to magically wake herself up with a spell. I hope the gathering at the bridge will not take too long. Camilla repressed a yawn by brushing a palm over her closed mouth. Speaking of time, Camilla remembered a question she wanted to ask Audrey since the Ulysses submerged. To Audrey in particular, because for being clear, Camilla discovered barely outside the common cabin that the kid was nobody but the chief mechanic of the whole expedition  

No need to be said, the fact instantly made Camilla feel inadequate in front of the literal kid, making herself question if SHE at Audrey's same age even truly grasped the real ‘mean n’ deal’ about what a job was. Gosh, generational differences can be WILD, “…Mrs Ramirez?” 

The aforementioned spunky teen spun her head, making her dark short hairs whipping through the jolt. “Geez. Just call me Audrey…!” she prompted, while popping a chewing gum in the mouth.

“Oh! Of course!" Alright, preference noted. Camilla took a few rapid steps to walk at Audrey and Vinny side. "Um…i was curious about our traveling schedule, how much will it take before we reach our destination?” .

The teen crumpled the gum wrap before shoveling it into a deep pocket of the overalls. “I’d say we’ll arrive in two hours- after the submarine will have reached the right depth of course.” 

“Wh-“ Camilla sputtered. “Two hours??? How…how fast are we going with this thing??”

Audrey’s sulk stare lightened of a crumb. “…43 knots.” She spoke, with a sorta pride in her voice.

Camilla felt her eyes widening as big as coffee plates. “C’mon. You’re joking.”

The teen's barely outlined grin was now in full view. "With my work? I would never."

Vinny nodded, humming with approval as a silent follower of the conversation.

Seizing Audrey’s availability to talk about the Ulysses, Camilla unleashed all the extreme curiosities she got about the submarine’s enginery. By naming a few, ‘how oxygen renewal during emerging worked’, ‘how it was powered’, ‘how many feet of depths she could reach’...and so on.

Through chattering and infodumping- between Audrey and Camilla’s at least, where Vinny gladly just listened- the trio continued their march towards the bridge making their way in a daedalus of thin corridors, dimly lit by gas-powered spot-lights embed in the wallplating, while passing by crowded rooms- buzzing and flickering with chants of unknown machines. Reached the end of an umpteenth corridor and making a rapid climb above a metal ladder, the three finally entered the Bridge. 

“Madonna santissima” Camilla murmured in awe, nose pointed to the gargantuan metal ribs that cradled the giant glass domes that gave shape to the hollowed sphere that was the Bridge. It was a true- miracle of invention, and it was immense.

Camilla barely had dreamt about witnessing such creations, always after reading the extraordinary stories of Jules Verne’s adventure books. Maybe the engineers that designed this, were also hungry readers of the formidable author’s novels such as her. Camila liked to think, that this was just the case. “I feel like trapped in the helmet of a deep sea diver.” Camilla breathed, voice filled with a childlike wonder.

Audrey followed Camilla's eyes. “I still don't understand why it has been built like this. All this glazed structure it’s barely a flex of glass enginery, and quite useless in a submarine,” she gestured at the domes, “if it wasn’t for the sonar, we would have already crashed ourself on a seamount, no matter the wideness of these windows, there are still lots of blind corners left out." Audrey put her fists on her sides,  "Not counting this is the maximum the Ulysses can support without collapsing under the ocean's pressure."

Camilla nodded through the explanation, but her was mind was already back at the windows that unveiled the Ocean's depths. The knowledge about the sonar was one of the few things she knew about submarines even before the voyage to the unknown. Being real tho, Camilla thanked in her heart whoever also knew, like Audrey, about that glass unnecessaryness, but chose to straightforward build the bridge as it is anyway. Camilla saw it as a remarkable act of foolishness, that sprouted a funny happiness in her heart

Can’t wait for Milo to see this. Camilla thought, already imagining Milo’s astonished face. Speaking of which, Camilla suddenly remembered the real reason she actually made this long walk to reach the current place. She gave a quick look around her, in hope to spot her dear friend among the scattered groups of people on the multi-floored circular platforms of the bridge.

“Youngster. Collect your eyes back in your head would you.” Vinny muttered from above the (hopefully) last ramp of staircases, with Audrey seemingly already vanished on the top.

“Si! Sorry, it’s just- this isn’t something you see everyday!” Camilla spoke with cheer, skipping to Vinny as to free a bit her embodied enthusiasm.

A sudden velvety voice was heard, launching a series of strict commands from the platform above, making Camilla stop on her tracks

A strong giddiness fluttered in her

I can't believe this. 

Helga Sinclaire. The most mind blowing Being that ever crossed the path of her silly gay life- and thought to be lost forever- was standing a handful of feet above her. Camilla caught herself from striking a ridicule and unnecessary winning pose, favoring a discreet internal screaming. If God hates the homosexuals, why we keep winning then

Camilla couldn't wait for Milo to see…also this. Where was her partner in crimes when she needed him the most?

Commands continued to echo around the walls, forcing a question in Camilla's mind, “Vinny, may i ask you something?”

“About why i ended up in prison?”

Camilla fell into a contemplative silence. “…no? You have?”

The man’s black mustaches curled a bit to the side, varying the everlasting deadpan of a smudge, “What was your question again?” 

Camilla blinked at him, dropping (at loss? Fortunately?) the newly discovered subject “Why Mr Whitmore’s personal assistant has joined us on the trip?”

Vinny seemed confused by the question, “Lieutenant Sinclaire has to always take part in the missions. There would be a vacant place as a second in command otherwise.”

Camilla blabbered an incredulous sound in the back of her throat, while jumping back like after touching a free electric cable. “She. Is. What.” Camilla croaked an octave higher.

“Haven’t you, ever heard about people with two jobs before.”

“Y-yeah of course i have…! ” Camilla brushed her forehead with the pad of the fingers. “I just…wasn’t aware of this.” Here we go, another obstacle in the path of our Hero's true Love. Oh dear, did I just say love?…for Christ sake. Camilla fought down a sigh. Higher ranking positions. How much she hated those. Now the percentage of a chance that Helga Sinclaire was not only a mean person- but also a classist- has considerably risen

I’m just a silly lil guy…! Camilla nibbled her lip looking up at the glass dome over her head as to find someone over there to lament to. Uh. She spotted a dolphin swimming outside the transparent pane

...You can’t make me cross paths with the coolest person alive and later slapping me with the knowledge she might be an asshole…!-

“Is… this topic really upsetting you as much?”

Vinny’s voice snapped her out of the mental rambling. Fuck. She forgot she was still having a conversation. “No…! It’s just- I’m glad i knew it! Before backhandedly making a fool of myself!” She forced- what hoped was- a reassuring smile, that it was clearly tight and embarrassed as ever.

Vinny just nodded, apparently satisfied by the reply. “Ah. Then…you’re welcome?” 

Camilla followed his figure climbing the last few stairs with her eyes, exhaling a breath when he reached the top out of sight. Alright ragazza. We’re in it now. Camilla prompted to herself. Show that sexy missy what you got. How much yourself you can be. Yeah in this economy. Show your special interests. Slay. Slay the heck out of it girl. Or die trying. Camilla adjusted her hat in place, as to channel the remaining energy left in her body, and made way with a firm climb for the last staircase. Barely a few steps in her fiery walk was put to a stop after her head reached the platform’s floor level by the sight of the back of two gaited combat boots. Camilla’s eyes reflexively trailed up. And up. And the more she raised them, the more the military dressed individual in front of her seemed to never have an end.

Probably receptive to feeling observed, the boots’ owner slowly turned around, revealing to be a white middle aged man of conspicuous built, with silvery gray hairs streaked of white at the temples.  

A chill ran down Camilla's spine. Gosh This man is huge.  

The man in question looked down at her quite puzzled, slightly raising his thick dark eyebrows with charming debonair. “Evening Miss,” he greeted dainty. “I’ve been informed of your presence. Welcome to the expedition, i’m Commander Rourke.”

The the new acquaintance's appealing towering figure smelt intensely of a brand of cologne a bit too strong for her taste, “Camilla Frabbi. Nice to meet you.” Before she could raise her hand for a conventional shake the Commander's attention was caught back by a few crewmembers calling him from the helm, which he steadily turned his attention back on. 

Uh. That was quite a quick introduction.

“ ...feeling lost. Mrs Fabbri ?” Helga's rich voice called from behind Camilla’s back.

Camilla suppressed a shiver

Alright. Here goes nothing, she thought, slowly facing Helga. Suddenly words were stuck in her throat, after being met by the green hued razor-sharp look of hers

“Uhh,” 

fuck  

“Emm,”

 alright. Beginner guide to respond to someone, this is an easy one, even if- she is not just someone, she is the biggest crush at first sight of your entire life  

“Ecco-”

no that’s italian! C'mon … talk! Say something, anything you…goon!  

Camilla casually scratched her nape, clearing her voice slightly “…a bit…?” 

Helga pierced her with her keen gaze, making Camilla feel like a pudding run through by a fork, “‘A bit’ seems quite the way to put it.” Helga spoke, underlying even more the obvious.

A nervous giggle escaped Camilla’s lips. Why she keeps staring at me like she's currently scrutinizing a bug under a lens? Am i just being studied?… or be prepared to be scorched through the magnifier? Camilla didn’t know which was the case for her right now. Her dilemma grew to a sudden pause, when she took notice of a handgun joisted at the side of Helga's high waisted belt. She must have made a face without realizing it by how Helga straightaway knew where she was looking at.

“…a Mauser C96. Are you familiar with these?” she asked with a raised brow.

“Not really. Firearms puts me quite on edge for being honest.” Camilla spoke, without asking herself why she felt to speak so earnestly. She fidgeted with her earrings a bit, “I can’t get off my head the fear they could fire by accident.”

Helga passed a gloved finger under her chin. Thinking. “...that would mean, that you must not getting quite along with people whom wields them? Could i be correct?” she hummed with concerning composure.

Camilla’s mind froze. She didn’t meant to put it like that. But thinking more about it, in sorta way, it was right? Actually it was concerning her a bit. She, was concerning her a bit, for how she was handling the topic. The situation was openly taunting, and Helga was waiting for a response with a not-so-much-veiled-look of, ' Do. I, put you on an edge?'.

Oh

How much Camilla hated when words were tricked back to her. Half the time she didn’t know how to respond. It made her feel a slow at thinking, leaving her baffled and wordless, just like now.

Met with a lasting silence, Helga's teasing expression toned down to a careful pout, “I didn’t mean to fluster you like that, Miss Frabbi” with a look of one that totally meant to “I’m merely messing with you.”

Camilla clenched her jaw. Oooh girl. Girl . Camilla balled her fist after shoveling both inside her jacket pockets. Pray that you’re (really) into girls and this is just your way to teasing around. Because if you’re not. And just toying with me, be blasted the higher rankings you’re gonna get a fucking punch in the guts, “Do i, inspire such pranks into you?” Camilla pressed, through a sleep deprived, headache strained, homosexual-disdain fuelled brain that she was totally gonna second thought it later. Now she only wanted to be pissed at breathtaking Blondie-mane.

The woman stilled a beat, folding her (very muscular- agh. Stop! You’re angry at her now, remember?) arms over her chest. “Unlike Mr Thatch we didn’t formally met back on the continent. This is barely a chatter for getting to know you.” She remarked tilting her head, making her braid dangle behind her back. 

Camilla twirled a loosen string from the inner pocket’s sewing, momentarily putting the internal rage on a hold. “You have quite a way to demonstrate it.”

Helga’s pout vanished, revealing a red lopsided smirk beneath surreptitiously joined by her raised brows. “Perchance. You are pretty good at getting around it.”

Camilla ignored her cheeks dangerously heating up. "That. Doesn't mean i'm actually having the fun of my life."

Helga straightened herself, something told Camilla, even with a sorta of satisfaction, "Mh. That's a pity."

Before Camilla could object something- Anything-! A light patter of leather shoes announced someone was coming up the metal stairs, making her turn to the sound source, as all the people on the platform. Relief bloomed over her at the sight of Milo, with an- guessed- awed plastered face rising into view, marveled like herself a few minutes prior.

"Welcome to the bridge Mr Thatch.” Rourke greeted Milo, leaning on the handrail nearby him. 

Milo opened and closed his mouth, as if to say something. But then, he took notice of Camilla- raising his hand that left mid greet motion, waving at her.

Camilla was so happy to see him, that without second thought, she initialized their famous salute of when they haven’t seen each other for more than half an hour, consisting in a slight body bounce on their toes, both hands waving with open-fan-like fingers, bashfully mirrored by Milo, evidently as relieved to see her. 

Rourke shot his brows slightly up at the scene, before placing his hulking figure at the center of the platform, making Camilla realize Rourke kind of left Milo without actually greeting him. Uh. Quite the hasty individual.

The Commander, oblivious to Camilla's observations, folded his arms over his chest, “Ok everybody. I want you to give Mr Thatch your undivided attention.”

…

As always, Milo exposed concisely and with ease the informations necessary for the continuation of the journey (making Camilla understand why he was needed on the bridge), despite some stumbling after some slides mismatching (how even those got there? ) and the lack of participation of the "class", which since its beginning has expanded by an extra element that Camilla never saw before.  A very unique individual to say the least, under the name of Molière, that spoke with a heavily french accented english. He stood a bit shorter than Audrey and sported a heavy coat furred around the neck, huge boots and a very complex headgear (a sort of mix between an aviator's helmet and a desk lamp? Cool). Also the platform was starting to smell a bit like soil since his arrival

Sometimes being a professor can truly be frustrating. Camilla thought, holding back an irritated look to the scoffers…of which- alas- Helga was part of, that added to the taunts- with Rourke complicity- jokes about Milo’s supposed celibate status. Which, by the way. How do you even truly know he really is? Uh? The gentlest. And funniest person ever, might be too wholesome to all of you? Are the people of the mission paid to mock people’s intimacy other than peeking in their personal lives? He may be the busiest man on earth from what i could tell. Five lovers in the apartment, ten lovers out the apartment, every day a week, festivities included- Camilla’s mental rant continued as she sideeyed Helga, who had been toying with her Mauser gun, since she concluded teasing her friend. 

She was passing the gun between her gloved fingers, probably half following Milo's detailed drawing and explanation of the ancient Atlantean passage that would have sent all of them to the holy fucking Lost City of Atlantis. Good heavens above people, this ain’t interesting for you? What else could be grabbing your attention more than that? Scilla and Cariddi??

The sudden stop of the even clicks and little sounds of a gun being handled was instantly noticed by Camilla, who gave a quick look at her side, noticing that Helga’s fidget had indeed come to a pause.

Helga's forehead seemed slightly knit as caught in a sudden thought, and her eyes fixed on a random point of the floor rather on the gun. It was a moment, then she slowly reinserted the pistol in the holder at her side, reverting to the cocky pose she had at the beginning of the presentation.  

Camilla blinked, looking back at Milo's projection, loosening a grip she didn't notice having at the jacket sleeves, freeing the leather that sticked to her palms by wiggling her fingers.

As soon as Milo finished speaking, one of the crew called for Commander Rourke, who quickly dismissed Milo and his presentation, giving the silent message to the people present on the platform to turn back at their duties around the Ulysses- aside from Helga and himself of course, that remained still in the bridge's core.

Camilla was suddenly left the only one between the two, with the feeling of being a bit in the way growing by the minute. She rapidly excused herself, not waiting for a response, trying to avoid the feeling of Helga's- or maybe Rourke's- eyes on her back, watching her overwhelmed withdrawn walk to Milo, the only other one that remained on the platform, who was now neatly resettling the working desk, “...was that the famous photo taken by those German travelers, during that two days escape of yours at the seaside?" Camilla whispered from behind her friend's back.

Milo squinted his hazel eyes at Camilla from above a shoulder, turning off the projector with a face full of disapproval, "...and they even managed to leave handprints of ice cream on the whole camera. I had to spend an entire afternoon afterwards cleaning it off from her."

A beat of silence.Then the two giggled before exchanging a quick hug.

"...so. The most positive outcome seems to have happened,” he furtively pointed to Helga with his eyes. “ Have you girlies menaged to perpetrate…" Milo wiggled his eyebrows conspiratorially from behind his glasses. "...your machinations…??" 

What usually would have made Camilla sigh of amused resignation, this time made lowering her head, and looking with a twinge of embarrassment at a point between her boots. “We…actually blasted ourselves with shady retorts till the time you arrived.”

Milo visibly deflated, passing his hand over a cheek beneath the glasses, “Oh Cami…”

Yep. The full dad-like disapproval, “She started it…!” Camilla whisper-shouted. More whispered than shouted due to Helga being barely 7 ft from them. “...she teased me for the whole time i put foot in here..!”

Milo blinked. “And it ain’t a good thing?” he murmured while neatly sheathing the glass slides in a wooden box.

That made Camilla fell silent, knowing what her friend meant by that, “I just, don't understand if she’s deliberately fooling with me for off-putting intents or going for a tease in the very good sense.” she murmured, slowly retrieving some scattered slides on the desk. 

Her friend's face fell. “Did she…said anything awful?” Milo spoke low in an alarmed tone.

 “No no- no.” Camilla quickly declined, “it’s just- i’m quite confused by her approach- if she’s having one.”

“May i say that this is just the second time you two talked to each other? And the first time you both had an almost casual talk? You may need a bit more time than that to know a person's intentions. In my opinion.”

Milo’s words fell like bricks over Camilla’s head, making her rethink Helga’s approach in a newer point of view, every time echoing more clearly like pebbles falling in a well. Was she actually…truly trying to know me better? A slight weight settled in Camilla’s throat. Gosh...Am i…actually being the prejudiced one towards her? Am I being the real asshole of the situation? “I’m an asshole.” Camilla grimaced, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Alright. Enough with this overthink.” Milo spoke, putting both hands over Camilla’s shoulders. “The journey has barely begun. We got TONS of time to get to know these people better. To get YOU to know this person better. There are more dead times in archaeology findings, filled with nothings rather than exciting frenzied moments than any other field!” He stopped for a contemplative second. “I’m…not talking for myself though. I’m having fun also in those.” he said, curling his nose, “...by the way-! What i mean to say is, give emotions some time. Ok?”

Camilla looked at his friend, letting her eyes trail down to the round brown buttons of his sweater exhaling a slow breath. “Yeah. You’re right.”

“Sometimes. I do.” he lightly shook her shoulders before letting his arms fall at his sides. 

They let silence fill in a beat, slowly growing aware of the otherworldly sounds of the machines around them and the intelligible talking of the crew.

Milo put away the last one of the slides, closing delicately their box, before retrieving the artefact that set in motion all the people present at the moment, “...wish to tag along with me while i translate this Journal’s passage?” he prompted, clasping open the Shepard 's journal in a swift motion of finger.

Camilla jump sit on the desk, tiredness tempting her to fall asleep right there, “Sing, O goddess, the wrath of Peleus’ son Achille…”

Milo swatted a hand around, nose already between the Journal’s pages, “I’ll try. I'll try.”

…

Of wrath indeed it was later chant. 

Of fear. And heart wrenching panic. Of metal walls tore open, like fine cutlery pushing through the fragilest of papers, and people thrown as heavyless rugs onto every surface of the submarine, from a deadly danger that crawled from the very ocean's pits. Camilla never felt so close to losing her sanity, multiple times in a few minutes, due to the sequential wave of despair and chaos that had echoed around her. 

There was not much to say. What remained spoke alone, in terrible silence that muffled the rest.

Camilla blinked hard to cast off the utter horrific images of what happened, tightening herself in her beloved worn burnt-umber leather jacket, originally designed and destined for a man. But her shoulders were wide enough, and the jacket perfectly embraced her, giving that androgynous silhouette she felt so good about. 

After the sea beast attack, the group spent a few hours stuck in a cave- the starting line of the ancient Atlantean road- from which the evacuation crafts and the remaining sub pods emerged, counting the survivors and ascertain the much greater losses.

Milo and Camilla got paired to be put alone in one of the supply trucks, later towed to Molière’s drill due to Camilla's lack of driver license and Milo's inexperience with that kind of vehicle.

Camilla’s hands were deep in the jacket’s pocket busy toying with a bundle of loosen strings from the pocket's stitching since she entered the truck, staring at the vast underworld of caves beyond the truck's hood.

“Shut your eyes for a while,”

Camilla heard Milo murmur.

“i’ll wake you when we stop.”

Camilla just nodded, lowering her thick copper hat over her eyes. Slowly drifting into a numb sleep.

…

A warm intense aroma made her slowly open her eyes, almost believing to have somehow awakened in the kitchen of her hometown. Camilla stirred like a groggy beast from the slumber, feeling all the articulations of her body crack at once, relieving in a satisfied grunt. She noted with delight the lack of headache gnarling at her temples. Good. A light tapping on the outer plate of the truck made her slowly turn toward her side, where she found Milo with a steaming metal coffee pot in hand.

“...room service?” he asked, through a tiny smile.

Camilla slowly slipped from the seat to the rocky ground, “You’re the best of the people i've met, capable of making a good coffee since i arrived in America. I thought about being at my grandma’s place for a second.”

“Thank you Master. For i have learned through you, the way of the Italian coffee brewing.” Milo bowed solemnly.

Their eyes met, tiredness still present at the sides of their eyes, and giggled.

“...so, where are we now? What did i miss?” Camilla asked, delicately rubbing an eyelid with the palm of her hand.

“We covered one quarter of the atlantean highway. You have been out for a day, you didn’t lose much aside from some brief stops there and there."

Camilla whistled. "That was a long nap."

"Yep. In which you skipped all the meal times. Feel up to join me for breakfast?" 

 "That would be nice." Camilla spoke through a serene smile.

…

According to the clocks it was eight in the morning when the column of vehicles departed, following the journey into the ancient passage that was now plunged in a deep blue atmosphere, in which Camilla and Milo got shoveled again in the truck pulled by Molière's drill.

"...the geologist chased you out of your bunk??" Camilla asked, baffled, "...he’s the one that should have moved away from the bales!"

Milo raised his head from the thick pages of two different dead languages dictionaries, with clear confusion in his eyes, “...you maybe meant…balls?” 

“Bales, balls, balle, coglioni. Those ones, yeah.” Camilla grumbled, while trying to draw the right shape of a group of humongous stalactites in her drawing block, “...did he at least explained his motivations for that?”

“I think… i inadvertently messed up some precious samples of his, that though better to left laying on my bed. He seemed quite attached to those, he even covered them with my blanket. " He managed to scribble loudly on a note book, "Did i put enough emphasis on the fact that he used my things?"

That put Camilla’s drawing frenzy on a hold. “ That is oddly specific.” she raised the charcoal stick to the side of her mouth in a thinking pose, stopping before mindlessly leaving a swipe of citron over her cheek. “Quite investing tho. I'm looking forward to talk with him.”

“Prepare yourself," Milo warned, "he seems a bit handsy with girls.” 

“Girls? Where? I’m but three gnomes in a jacket.”

"How about the gnomes' gender?"

"One is a female, one a male, the other is unavailable."

"Does Molière knows that?"

"I'll send a carrier squirrel to let him known,"

Milo rolled his eyes. “You wish for me to continue?”

“Yeah, sorry, sorry.” Camilla said, flipping to another page of the drawing block.

“About my other roommate. He’s called, Joshua Sweet, Joshua Strongbear Sweet. He’s our Doctor. And he was. So gentle with me. A bit overwhelming over some health checks," Milo wiggled rapidly a hand, " but, trust me. Reeeally nice.“

“Did he gave you a complementary candy afterwards?”

Milo jaw fall open. “He didn’t.”

“Next time you’ll deserve two then.”

“You bet it.”

The loud moan of a series of brakes made the two stop their doings, making both lean their head out the vehicle. Rourke's voice cut clear through the air. "Everyone, we'll pause to fuel the tanks. Keep yourself ready for the signal to go."

Camilla shake her head grunting, stretching her legs over the dashboard. “I think i’ll need a little walk, or my legs are gonna kill me.”

"Now that you mention this..." Milo flipped through the pages of the Journal, lingering his long squared finger over a paragraph. "...right in this passage, the Shepherd left an helpful note were he alert the people to come, that right after the road's junction with the nest of the insects-like megafauna…”  Milo gave a pouty sideways glance at Camilla’s flippant snicker, “...we should find ourselves nearby a waterfall of fresh, and safe drinkable water.” Milo closed the book with a delicate ‘poff !’, “If you feel up to it, you could go checking if that waterfall still exists.”

Camilla slung down the seat with a swing. “On it chief.”

Before leaving for her quest, Camilla went around the long line of trucks to see if anyone wished to tag along with her. Since the stranding, she hasn’t got… any opportunity to see other ones aside from Milo. Barely some fugitive visions of Audrey between the machines and Helga’s blonde mane nearby Rourke or among groups of heavily harnessed soldiers with gas masks. Those were quite the fright, but unequivocally cool. Thinking about it, who around this mission wasn’t a dense token of badassness 

Without managing to see known faces freed from tasks, Camilla took her shoulder bag and sent off  towards the path described by the Shepherd 

Barely behind a cluster of elongated rocks, Camilla let out a gush of air

The unclear fact that Helga was possibly having a flirt with her, was still and ever present in her mind, and nibbling at her brain since she awakened. She needed to distract herself a bit

Cooked. I’m SO cooked for that gal. Camilla thought, while vanishing down the path.

…

The temperature was a delight in those caves. Perfectly chilly to the point of keeping your cheeks cool but enough cold to appreciate the warmness of the layered clothes, like a blanket around the shoulder during brisk fall’s mornings. 

The walk would have taken approximately twenty minutes before reaching the place, during which Milo reassured Camilla  when still back at the camp with his serious-est of faces (meaning he was going to say something he was plainly resolute about. Without space for error) that the route was clear from any kind of possible dangerous fauna. That specific look into Milo's eyes was enough for Camilla to walk in total tranquility in the unknown, while daring a disarticulated whistle to keep her company. The steps of her leather boots on the rocky soil echoed slightly among the bent and fractured surfaces of the blue-hued cave, making her slowly grow a silly idea in her mind. The sounds dance around the walls like in a theater. 

Camilla warmed up her voice a bit through a frivolous scale of low and high notes in falsetto, coughing lightly and making a face every time she sang an off note. “Well. No glasses to shatter here anyway.” she mumbled to herself, before walking to the first flat rock she spotted nearby. She put herself close to the boulder then laid her back on the cool surface, draping her full body over it. Her eyes fluttered shut, and her expression fogged. She was now a canvas of a pained sorrow, that she quickly veiled with the back of her hand. Even adding a languid 'sigh' to the performance. Oh, it was so dramatic

“Tosca, Second Act. Our heroine (whose name stands under the Opera's title) turns her heartfelt reproach to God- Incredulous…! In utmost disbelief in front of her tragic Love story.” Camilla rose up to her feet, widening her arms as to welcome the first notes of an non-existent music. She took a deep breath, and began to sing

“Vissi d'arte, vissi d'amore,

non feci mai male ad anima viva!

Con man furtiva

quante miserie conobbi, aiutai.

Sempre con fe' sincera,

la mia preghiera

ai santi tabernacoli salì.

Sempre con fe' sincera

diedi fiori agli altar.

Nell'ora del dolore

perché, perché Signore,

perché me ne rimuneri così?

Diedi gioielli

della Madonna al manto,

e diedi il canto

agli astri, al ciel, che ne ridean più bel-

When Camilla spun around, to throw both hands above her in a tragic fashion, she spotted a shadowed standing figure a few feet from her, making her falsetto rapidly switch to a comically high scream.

"Easy there, Mrs Frabbi." A voice spoke from the dim indigo shadows of the cave.

"...Lieutenant Sinclaire…!” Camilla choked out, instantly craving to be buried down an entire hill of ground. Shame and thrill. Huh, what a humorous mix of emotions, “…what brings you here?” Camilla went on, like she just hadn't made a one-jester show of herself, energetically patting her clothes as to dust them off from imaginary stains of sand.

The woman came closer, foot steps echoing slightly, making Camilla question how she managed to come this near without being heard, “Someone saw you walk away from the group,” Helga spoke wary, switching on a flashlight, keeping its beam at feet level, “do you realize that as an untrained civilian, choosing to venture alone into unexplored areas you're endangering yourself, yes?” she spat, probably raising an angled eyebrow outside the light, “You should have reported your movements before pursuing your saunterings, Mrs Frabbi. This is not a frivoulous trip in the countryside, i remember you. And by rescuing your persona from falling into a crevasse we could endanger the extremely limited resources of the mission, and we cannot afford it.”

Camilla blinked. Her personal turmoil drained to floor level, “I… apologize, Mrs Sinclaire," Camilla spoke in earnest, rubbing with the right index finger and the thumb, both palm and back of the other hand. "I wasn't aware of this," a weight settled in the throat, and she started blaming herself for not have informed herself better, "forget my carelessness.” 

The woman stiffened, with that ever guarding look of hers, skipping to Camilla's eye to another.

Camilla started embracing the fact she'll be from now on following the Atlantis discovery from a back view after her misconduct. She looked at Helga that changed posture, casually hopping the flashlight between the hands before starting to speak.

“I know this might be, quite a new environment for you Mrs Frabbi. Just think more cautiously next time you'll grow the urge to wander around.” she remarked, dismissing the subject with a closing tone.

Camilla blinked few times as to really catch what the other just said. That's really it? That's all?

"Yes Mrs Frabbi that is all."

Camilla felt cold sweat forming around the temples "I-i beg your pardon?" Oh God did i just...thought out loud without noticing it? Or is she just a mindreader?

"You didn't seem convinced. So i say. Again. That's all."

Camilla felt instant relief blossoming in her. Ok maybe she isn't a mindreader. Maybe she's just an average face's expressions-lecturer, “Y-yes of course.” Camilla managed to utter.

They plumbered into silence. The lack of their voice, quickly bringing back the plain noiseless ambience of the cave, except for a delicate wind that whistled around the far walls. There was a beat, in which the two just looked at each other.

Camilla questioned with a growing dreadful feeling that Helga didn’t hear the reply, so she collected all her mental energy to repeat herself a second time-

“What brought you here so far distant from the camp?” Helga finally spoke, while taking slow measured steps till she made a half circle around Camilla, “...mushroom hunting?"

Camilla felt her cheeks and chest flush hot for the sudden Helga’s revival of the taunt-ish scrutinizing. Again! Camilla prayed her voice would not crack for the wave of bashfulness that creped over her. “Actually, something less picturesque,“ Camilla slowly reached for one of her huge earrings, toying it with her fingers. ”I was looking for a waterfall of fresh water signed in the Shepherd's Journal. I was going to check if it's still active.”

Helga momentarily detached her piercing look from Camilla, turning at the even lit path that vanished behind the long stalagmites. “You know how far it might be?” She questioned, while briefly moving the light beam to the jagged path ahead.

“A precise mile from here." Camilla spoke, her eye trailing the outline of Helga's broad shoulders. Gosh how many muscles are gonna be hidden under that turtleneck?  Camilla had to stop herself to further follow that line of thought, to avoid backhanded daydreaming.

"...Mrs Frabbi i'll be frank with you," Helga spoke sternly, giving one last furtive look at the path ahead.

Camilla fled her gaze from those gorgeous muscled shoulders to a random point of Helga's braid before she fully turned again.

"Commander Rourke will be quite annoyed by your undeclared departure. So, better prepare yourself to receive dismissive reprimands at our return back to the camp.” 

Before Camilla could even begin to give shape to the worry about her foreseeing future she noticed Helga strolling down the path in the opposite direction of the aforementioned camp. "L-Lieutenant-!" Camilla flinched, taking two alarmed steps behind Helga, "Isn't...our direction on the other side…?"

Helga stopped, turning slightly on her heels, "Weren't you the one that wished to go searching for a supposed waterfall?" she gazed back at Camilla with an arched brow.

"Well…yeah-- i mean-! Yes! But you just said Commander Rourke’s-" 

Helga raised a gloved palm making Camilla pause her talk. “That's quite unavoidable. But, he could become a couple tones less irked if due to your frolicling, you happened to stumble over a useful resource for the mission to be used." Helga lips curled in a persuasive smirk, "...I thought you were more insightful than this Miss Camilla."

Oh…

…OH

OOOH

SHE JUST SAID MY NAME  

Ok. Ok. She just dropped formalities, nothing special about it. Vinny and Audrey also did this

…but this is Helga Fucking Sinclair second in command of the expedition. It can't be a common thing to do

…or am i just gaslighting myself to believe that? Mh… maybe the latter. Better keep the expectation low for now (sigh)

But also. What a douche. Forget the mandatory guilt for character development of before

be 'more insightful' my ass Goldilocks

“Hei.” Camilla rebuked with a clear irk in her tone, daring a defiant pose at Helga. A very comedic view taking the fact that Camilla reached a four inches above Helga's pecs level. Better not venture, also, this line of thought for now.

Helga clearly basked into that reaction, for how she slightly loomed towards Camilla. "The rule breaker missy got anything to say?"

Alright, the formalities are legally dead from now on "I wish a refound for the lack of a compelling customer support."

The woman put slightly her jaw to the side, "Is this how civilian protection get thanked nowadays?"

The situation was clearly growing into a taunt-ish teasing right now. So no time for caution responses here, "Just the annoying ones." her lesbian brain blurted out

Helga slightly widened her eyes, and stood up straight again (ha-ha), always with that expression of seemingly contained boldness. She briskly projected the flashlight's beam down the rocky path, still looking down on Camilla, “Very well then...after you?” Helga half bowed as to keep an imaginative door open ready for someone to pass.

Camilla suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at the known universe, fuming for how much this treatment was affecting her and setting her mind on fire. Alrighty, waterfall is it then, She prudently walked past Helga forcing her eyes to not meet that stupidly gorgeous greeny gaze of hers.

Camilla knew she was not ever recover from this.