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Bathtime [Jul. 27th, 2012|09:57 pm]

[mood |uncomfortableuncomfortable]

*Data sits in the bubble bath that Geordi has drawn for him. He gives Geordi a small smile as he splashes the bubbles around idly, but squirms in physical discomfort over...what the two of them did. Finally he gives a wince*

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(no subject) [Jul. 28th, 2010|08:37 pm]

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[music |One More For Love-Five For Fighting]

::makes final visual sweep of shuttle bay, satisfied with results...two shuttles as ready for launch as they'll ever be, and two away teams...as ready as they'll ever be::

::offers particularly hard look to former drone when her head turns from jennydelaney, sighing inwardly at returned, painfully innocuousness look::

::glances back over to Baxial...Jetal looks almost as pleased by the likelihood of being caught in the middle of future fireworks::

::considers one more speech about professional behavior and duty, but almost immediately rejects the idea...if it didn't sink in the first five hundred times, it probably won't find footing what could be the very last time::
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Enjoy the adrenaline rush, it never lasts long. [Jul. 15th, 2010|11:14 am]

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[music |We Belong-Pat Benatar]

::circles lab table to check mirror_renara and kes_ progress on serum...better than expected, at least::

::manages faint smile of approval at young woman's questioning look up, then quickly moves past, to cold case::

::grabs bottles and unscrews lids to drop in...special ingredient...before sticking them in warmer::

::after a few seconds, grabs them out again, heading to opposite side of room to dispense...predictably, five parents look grateful and relieved, only andrewkim has the audacity to look suspicious::

::stares at him::

Light sedative. They need to sleep. We need to concentrate. Everybody wins.
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(This is the arc that never ends, it just goes on and on...) [May. 23rd, 2010|11:27 am]

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::ducks back into briefing room after briefly skipping out to...amend the resource manifest::

::pretends not to notice the look on captainchakotay's face...part curiosity and part annoyance::

He can thank me later. I hope.

::takes a seat far, far down the table, leaning over to speak to wife, who mainly looks uncomfortable...the sitting::

Anything exciting happen?
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(no subject) [Apr. 9th, 2010|04:22 pm]

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::circles console to check lieutenantkim's readings one more time::

::sighs with restrained satisfaction...nothing worse, but nothing better either::

::moves to slap comm badge and open a channel to engineering, arresting gesture when turbolift doors open, revealing ltcmdrtomparis and miral_paris::

Any updates?
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(no subject) [Mar. 26th, 2010|02:28 pm]
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::paces between consoles in Titan's science lab, nibbling on thumb while mentally comparing readings::

::or trying...to be honest, clouds start to look alike after a while, even at the subatomic level::

::steals a look to other side of lab, the messier, not so well catalogued, filled with not so official projects one::

::strikes a bargain with self-fifteen minutes with the fun stuff then back to work, fifteen minutes off lunch break::

::takes a single step before jumping guiltily and nearly falling over own feet at sound of opening doors::
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Old bones and a soft cushion. [Mar. 16th, 2010|10:18 am]
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::drifts between sleep and wake, reluctant to let go of pleasant dreams...lakeside at El-Nar, nothing for distraction but jumping fish and dee_troi's humming::

::groans when a decidedly non-naturalistic beep weighs the scale further toward 'wake', burrowing face further into subject of fantasy's shoulder::

Not answering. My day off.
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(no subject) [Feb. 3rd, 2010|10:14 pm]

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::shifts kelsie_wildman in arms, tilting sensitive ear back away from high pitched squeal of rage::

Aw, come on, don't be fussy...Naomi, come on and get her, I told Vorik I'd be in engineering ten minutes ago!

::jumps at resounding crash from bathroom, before sighing with relief...at least it surprised the screamer into silence::

::holds own breath when door slides open to reveal what looks like a very mad human-Ktarian::

Everything will be fine.

...if you feel that bad, maybe you should go to sickbay...

Or pout it out.

::jumps again when outer door chimes::

Oh, come on in!
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(no subject) [Feb. 3rd, 2010|11:29 am]

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::runs hand through rebellious hair, quickly lowering it to stifle a yawn...apparently sleep in morning should have been extended to a sleep in day::

::blinks when a blur of mostly orange darts past::

Neelix? Neelix! Where's the fire?

::sighs when Talaxian halts and looks around with even more panic, offering self-translation::

What's the hurry?
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...and a side of sunshine. [Jan. 10th, 2010|09:18 am]

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[music |A Message-Coldplay]

::steps into mess, blinking at cacophony...had forgotten it could be so noisy in the morning::

::skirts a crewman with hands full, nodding in greeting::

I hope that's not all for you, U'Lanai. You're slow enough without your stomach twice filled.

...joking, joking.

::shrugs at scowl, moving on to destination...the serving counter::

::steps up when line empties, eying clearly preoccupied server::

A lot more work than you remembered, I take it?
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Heavy lies the head... [Dec. 14th, 2009|12:43 am]

[mood |indescribable]

::relaxes hands on cool polymer of computer terminal, pulling eyes away from blank screen to look around dimly lit quarters for the tenth time in as many minutes::

::shakes head when gaze lands on picture...no, Kathryn probably wouldn't approve of one of Voyager's command staff wracking an already strained mind trying to put together such a triviality as this project...a simple newsletter::

::leave that to Neelix
, she'd say::

::purposefully looks away, rubbing a pinky in thought::

::exhales slowly and deeply, pulling scattered thoughts back into focus with profound effort::

::gets to work::

This is the captain. Mr. Neelix has generously given me free rein with news and updates this time. And yes, all soft fruit may be thrown my way, not his. In that spirit, I'll keep it short.

::takes another moment::

I know I need not remind you of how exciting the past few months have been-personally, if not professionally. We've seen not one, not two, but three births, with three weddings to match-and those just here aboard ship. Every new comm cycle home reveals new joys, new sorrows.

Change was bound to happen, but make no mistake, even as I've tried to foster a community atmosphere aboard this ship and encouraged the planting of proverbial roots, our long-term mission remains just as it was the day Voyager landed in this quadrant seventeen years ago. We owe it to ourselves, our families, and above all the memory of Kathryn Janeway to see this journey made full circle.

Though most of you haven't been aware of it, in the past few months we've come closer than ever to making that goal a reality. Commander Paris, Lieutenant Kim, Seven of Nine, and our guest Miral have tirelessly poured their efforts into retooling our earlier slipstream project. Lieutenant Vorik now believes that we can successfully and safely implement such a drive, cutting the distance and time left in Voyager's journey by great measure, if not entirely.

With his carefully weighed approval in mind, I've authorized the effort. It has, by now, become eventual necessity, not frivolity. This ship will not hold forever, and I will not be responsible for endangering innocent lives any longer than necessary in the name of sentiment.

::chuckles a little at irony...similar sentiments were behind the explosive end of first captaincy::

Over the next month, Voyager's crew will be pressed into heavier duty than usual, performing what should be final maintenance-if all goes as planned, we can leave any further work in the Corps capable hands-back home.

This time, let's make it happen.

::releases another breathe, squinting at screen one last time::

::finally slams hovering index finger down, sending memo out on a ship-wide circuit::

::rolls neck, sliding seat back and heading for bed...time for rest::

::it's bound to be crunch time come morning::
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Chocolate now? [Oct. 30th, 2009|04:53 pm]
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::closes out Ensign Larson's file, adding reminder of next scheduled session to planner::

::leans back in seat to kick feet up on desk, moving eyes from wrist chronometer to door, with a silent plea dropped between...somehow, slow space brings out the need for therapy in everyone::

::of course, half of those 'therapy' sessions primarily consist of sitting and listening patiently to complaints about Command's hurry up and wait tendency::

::looks out porthole to right of desk...well, yes, it would be nice to go somewhere::

::suppresses self-depressing sigh, pulling feet back to floor when terminal chimes to announce incoming call::

::and another, when origin becomes obvious::

Counselor Troi. How can I help you today, Tom?
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...just one damn thing after the other. [Oct. 22nd, 2009|09:32 pm]

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[music |Shattered-Trading Yesterday]

::jingles data chips in pocket, pausing beyond sensors and giving sickbay doors a long, hard look::

::with a grimace, rolls head, hoping to somehow shake the headed-for-the-scaffold heaviness in chest too::

::reminds self to chew hologram out for taking his own sweet time and letting nerves fester, squaring shoulders and stepping on in::

Doc? You called?

::circles tray left in middle of dimly lit main bay, cutting path to one source of light...the office::

::lifts head, blinking in surprise at sight of two green-crested, arm-crossed figures::

Ah...didn't your shift end several hours ago, sweetheart?

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Off to grandfather's house we go... [Sep. 15th, 2009|08:43 pm]


 ::trails out of own quarters with a grumble, grabbing a handful of candy out of dish on entrance table before doors can shut...Naomi's romantic little touches are worth something, at least::

::shoves mints into mouth in a quick gulp when realization suddenly strikes, reaching up to steady flailing cargo::

::readjusts chubby little legs over shoulders, grabbing hands next::

Hey, K, try this.

If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands...

::after a few seconds of wrangling to free thumbs from
kelsie_wildman's clenched fists, flattens her hands out just enough to smack both palms together::

Like that, see? You're a natural.

K, K...if you're happy and you know it and you really want to show it...
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The early bird... [Aug. 14th, 2009|08:04 am]
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::hums slightly modified version of The Blue Danube whilst sorting padds, basking in favorite time of work day::

::too early for even the most hyperactive hypochondriacs, Lieutenant Kim still safely cocooned in bed and in no immediate danger of temporary expiration...the other half of that residential unit equally distracted::

::almost perfectly peaceful::

::glances through glass of office window, good mood failing somewhat at sight beyond::


::heaves a sigh, rising and leaving hidey-hole::

Ah, Kes. I wasn't expecting you for at least another fifteen minutes.
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Ready Room-Placeholder [Jul. 30th, 2009|11:38 am]

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::pours another half a cup from self-brewed canteen of coffee, reluctantly giving up position near expanse of windows and view it offered::

::takes a half a look at growing pile on desk, wincing::

::twitches thumb on cup surface, debating the wisdom of forwarding it all back out to the bridge command console::

::no, Paris probably isn't quite that bored::

::downs energy booster in one gulp, dropping cup on corner of desk before re-circling it in resignation::

::slumps shoulders slightly in relief as door chime sounds before seat can even be fully taken::

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Up a creek, running out of oars... [Jul. 17th, 2009|03:07 pm]

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::stops just beyond door sensors, lifting bouquet in hand to critically examine again...it looks nice, Sam approved, but you never know with some women::

::drops arm, feeling more than a little idiotic for hesitating to enter own quarters...especially after amused looks given by two passing crewmen::

::draws to full height, taking a soothing breath before trying to saunter in::


::pauses...it's times like this a fitting term of endearment would be handy::

I'm sorry I'm late...Neelix backed me into a corner wanting to talk about the shower for Harper and Kyoto and apparently a separate party for the baby's six monther...

::takes in more than usual silence, looking around...she has to be here, the computer said so::

::stops at bedroom door::

::sighs, stepping forward to try luck even though a certain feeling says it's futile...and it is::

::bumps nose, backing up to glare...patience only goes so far::

Seven? Open up.

...the last time I checked, you aren't a teenager, so if we could both try to approach this as two adults...



Fine. Take your time. I'll be here when you feel like coming out.

::waits, slipping occasional look at chronometer::

My patience ends at ten.

::drops flowers, charging back out of quarters and down corridor::

::hits chime::

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Captain's Log, Supplemental. [Jul. 10th, 2009|09:04 pm]
[Tags|, ]

Titan has been out of drydock and officially under my (ever so reluctant though it be) command for nearly a month now.

Despite my first officer's nearly irrepressible desire to test the new quantum slipstream engine, we've managed to keep a fairly slow...and therefore fairly steady...course to Deep Space Nine, where we expect to grant last shore leaves and pick up a few final crew additions.

I hope to have my head engineer and pilot aboard by the end of the week.

Then, as Dax would say in her charmingly Earth imitative manner, we put the pedal to the metal...

::holds finger over save key, debating...maybe at this point, short and sweet is best...especially since the sweet wears thin fast when certain Trill are part of the topic::

::punches it, settling back in already creaky chair with the vaguest sense of satisfaction::
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(no subject) [Jul. 10th, 2009|01:46 pm]

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::spears a celery stalk, swishing it around in something Chell seems to think resembles dressing::

::wonders who got the bright idea to let the Bolian and Talaxian switch off security and mess shifts...then wonders when Neelix's cooking became worth preferring::


Should have risked wasting replicator rations.

::debates doing it yet, glancing over to doors to see if wife is anywhere within visual range::

::groans at worser sight::
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Afternoon rush. [Jul. 8th, 2009|03:32 pm]

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::yanks on uniform jacket, giving wrinkles a half-hearted once over::

With everything else Starfleet comes up with, you'd think care free fabric would be simple enough...but no, no...

::jumps when firm, slightly cool fingers run over back, apparently focused on the out of reach spots::

Thanks, Seven.

::twists, greeted by a plate of...something...stuck just under nose::

Ah...smells good. But what exactly...
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Second chances... [Jun. 12th, 2009|02:34 pm]
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::draws to halt a few paces away from the main entrance to Starfleet's hub, cocking head to take in building...and remember last occasion for visiting::

::tamps down glare of disgusted indignation with profound effort, tugging at uniform jacket one last time before heading in::

::winces as irony of gesture strikes::

I don't see why we couldn't do this over dinner as well. God knows, I need the comfort food.
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(no subject) [Jun. 7th, 2009|05:40 pm]
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::dips butter knife into sauce, plopping a generous portion on napkin and using it doodle::

::nods again in a less than enthusiastic pretense of attention as twin's latest outraged rant hits crescendo, eyes scanning room for some diversion, any diversion::
::just about bounces with joy as Neelix's latest victims wander in::

::lifts hand quickly in beckoning, offering sheepish look to side when food art turns into a food projectile::

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Earth, Starfleet Command...Admiral's office. [May. 6th, 2009|03:35 pm]
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::relaxes when doors slide shut, shutting out the latest in a long string of secretaries...for reason's beyond the Admiral, the turnover rate is high::

::quirks lips in self-amusement at less than respectful thought, sitting bag down in chair and neatly folding jacket atop it::

::keeps fists balled around thick, course material, eyes lifting to bay of windows across opposite wall...foot traffic below is light and brisk, those still around this late all too eager to escape and head home...or just away::

::twists head, scanning the rest of the room, though not expecting to see anything new...the Admiral's home away from home has been the same since knee socks and hair bows...form, function, little in the way of distraction::

::curves lips again, eyes settling on sole picture allowed a place on the neat, utilitarian desk::
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USS Titan, drydock. [Apr. 24th, 2009|02:25 pm]
[Tags|, ]
[mood |energeticenergetic]

::clambers up last few steps of maintenance ladder, accepting the hand of a nearby engineer to crawl out::

::brushes off profuse apologies about downed lifts, using the pretense of needing a stretch to take a moment to look around...and then directly toward open ready room entrance::

::bites lip to hide smile, head cocking to take in indistinguishable but forceful mutterings from within::

::offers refit leader a sympathetic shoulder pat, carefully moving around tools and debris, eventually coming to rest just inside doorway::

::clears throat::

Oh, Captain?
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(no subject) [Apr. 14th, 2009|07:06 pm]
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[music |Drifting-Sarah McLachlan]

::puts finishing touches on follow-up report to session with ltcmdrtomparis, with a more than slight sigh of relief...honestly, it's worse than poking around in the head of a Riker::

::shakes foggy thoughts back to order, glancing at half-screened windows of transit quarters and dimming sunlight coming through::

::checks time, faintly surprised...dinner alone then::

::scrapes chair back, shutting down screen and padding into main room::

::blinks, barely catching self from jumping at sight of shadowed figure standing stock still against opposite, windowed wall::

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Forget eating it, just getting the cake is a hassle. [Apr. 8th, 2009|01:31 pm]

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::halts outside mess doors, checking wrist chronometer...might just beat the Borg::

::steps in, scanning room and finding target...plus two::

::or not::

::sighs, strolling on by counter and grabbing a plate from Chell's beefy blue hand...minus dessert::

::tries not to look at it until seated...there's just no telling::

Harry, I need something.
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(no subject) [Mar. 31st, 2009|08:19 pm]

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::turns antique paperweight in hand, momentarily surprised when floodlights come to life outside, glinting off of crystalline figurine::

::squints toward window, making mental note to request more maintenance...fully tinted, this time::

::sits paperweight down with a concise thud, reaching over instead to intercom::


::briefly struggles to remember time differences, finally giving up::

Put me through to Betazed, please. The Troi residence.
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(no subject) [Mar. 27th, 2009|08:28 pm]

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::pulls last of pins from hair, shaking it loose and settling on a quick hand brush...in no mood to pull knots::

::grabs shunned uniform jacket from floor, tossing it into recycler::

::viciously suppresses soft smile as something that sounds suspiciously like koochie-koo drifts from living area::

::tightens robe and straightens back, donning determined face and charging in::

Harry, put down that baby. Now.
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Betazed, winding down the day. [Mar. 25th, 2009|08:27 pm]
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[music |Mandolin Rain-Bruce Hornsby]

::carefully dumps heavily marinated replicated chicken into pan, adding another sprinking of replicated oregano for merit::

::shakes head one more time, uncertain which is more aggravating...the Betazoid passion for passivity that leads to more rigid veganism than even most modern species employ, or the cogs in their import process that still haven't been fixed, years after war::

::reaches to other side of oven, grabbing a bottle off countertop and popping the cork, smirking at own complaints::

At least they know their wine.

::pours a dollop, listening to stir-fry sizzle while eyes drift to nearby window, then wall chronometer::

::debates taking a swig, or growing a few more grey hairs instead::

::tells self not to worry, just like countless times before...but can't stop the internal half-plea, half-question that escapes::

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(no subject) [Mar. 6th, 2009|06:31 pm]

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::steps into mess, sliding padd into pocket on the way...some people look for excuses to overwork, and following the Captain's lead is a decent one::

::if only they knew...Kathryn left behind some engrossing literature...and not all classics::

::carefully tamps down smirk, nodding to Dalby and Crewman Biddle before moving past them to the counter::

What do we have today, Neelix?
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Trying to wrap up for the day...trying. [Feb. 18th, 2009|07:11 pm]

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::scowls at console screen, reading through message from jenny_delaney for the fifth time::

Sick my...

::leans back in chair, pinching bridge of nose while mentally reviewing Astrometrics task schedule for next day...a full system overhaul to facilitate the steady stream of new data Command seems determined to send along::

She knows we don't have time for this.

::pushes to feet, debating whether to go directly to the chewing out part or offer the pretense of a benefit of a doubt::

::better at least check with sickbay first...women tend to cry when they really are sick and get an earful::
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(no subject) [Jan. 30th, 2009|05:44 pm]

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[mood |busy]

::offers daily farewell to Astrometrics staff, waiting until back is turned to lift brow at jennydelaney's gum smack response::

::drops padd with stored work in basket near door...no more 'home work', per living mate's insistence::

::tries not to frown in anticipation of the resulting tedium, checking time instead::

::nods to Jor while stepping into lift, inputting own destination after engineer leaves::

Deck six.
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Coffee! With added sugar! [Jan. 21st, 2009|11:25 am]
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[mood |bouncybouncy]

::bustles around USS Voyager's briefing room, angling and reangling chairs::

::frowns at crooked brunch settings...that little orange furball can't do anything right, can he?::

::straightens and re-examines, hummming merrily on way back to hissing coffee kettle::

::satisfied with simmer, picks up a mug and carefully wipes away a smudge on shirt...really::

::leans back against serving cart, crossing legs and eying chronometer...maybe Chuckles will need the full five cups this morning::

::taps feet impatiently::
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(no subject) [Mar. 30th, 2008|10:53 am]
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[mood |apatheticapathetic]
[music |When You Love someone Like That-Reba and Leann Rimes]

::pauses in mess hall doorway, ignoring hungry grumbles from behind and taking the time to carefully scan the room before daring proceed so much as a step farther::


::sniffs at the mere thought of the pilot behind all the calculated avoidance, trotting to buffet line and ignoring the looks garnished...for Pete's sake, don't the people on Voyager have anything better to do than gossip?::

::takes a plate with one hand, putting the other up to swiftly shut down Neelix's consolatory hovering::

::looks down at food offerings...still brunch...::

::quivers a little at the unfortunate memory::
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Alpha shift. [Mar. 6th, 2008|09:40 am]

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::steps off turbolift, looking around warily::

::no blatant hints of threat, at least...maybe Jenny has fewer minions than feared::

::detours to helm, checking Jetal's work...what little work there is to do::

::gives her a sympathetic shrug, turning back to the command center::

::settles into seat, ignoring eyes drilling into back of head...let him twitch::

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