::swats him on a shoulder with flexy in hand before dropping it and pilfering another::
Your backlog of letters from the Admiral. Have you actually been reading them?
::tenses despite vow to never let the son of a bitch get under skin again::
Not yet. I suppose I should, just in case something comes up in an impromptu pop quiz during one of our supposedly business only comm sessions.
You could read them and give me the highlights.
::shakes head sadly at him, taking a seat on the sofa and patting cushion beside self::
I'm sure he's every bit as rigid and borderline abusive as you claim
or possibly not, but isn't it time to mend fences?
I mean, by the time we get home, he'll probably be dead and gone. What are you going to do then, slouch around singing the blues about all your missed chances for reconciliation?
I hadn't really thought about that...but hell, at least it'll give me something to do.
::casts bartering look toward companion::
Replicator cap begone?
I wonder what the Captain would say about such a flagrant abuse of station for personal gain?
::smiles at self, delighted to have the upper hand...or at least be on equal ground again::
::rolls eyes at his annoyed look, rising from seat and circling around the table::
::slides up behind the pilot, prodding his tense shoulders with hands::
You should loosen up.
So you keep saying.
::winces a little at her idea of a massage, Klingons would be more tender::
::swallows that thought before it can lead to a memory that would lead to another memory that would sink mood even further, if possible::
::twists, shaking off the Delaney touch::
::tries forcing out a sharp 'Dismissed', losing it rather quickly when eyes light on her set, calculated pout::
::moves closer, reaching up to place hand behind the pilot's neck, exerting gentle pressure to draw his head...and lips...down and near::
::nibbles only briefly, drawing back to read his expression::
I think I could help you do that. Don't you?
Help me with what again?
::smirks a little at the Ensign's expression, gripping forearms to keep her from straying too far::
Ah, yes. I remember.
What do you mean, maybe?
Maybe you remember or maybe I can help you with...
Wait a minute, what was I trying to help you with again?
Something will permanently short circuit if you keep it up.
::loosens grip, transferring hands to her waist, pulling her just a little closer::
I think you meant to loosen me up. It worked.
Oh, really? Well, that was easier than I expected. Your resolve is growing weak in your old age.
::tries not to look too smug...or happy...at the contact, lifting fingers to toy with his pips::
I can go, now. Wouldn't want to put the first officer in an ethical quandary...
::removes one hand, gripping hers in warning::
Don't grow ethics on me now.
Don't go either.
...and I'm not old.
Oh, honey, age isn't a number, it's all about experience, and you've got plenty of that all the way around, if you get what I mean.
::rolls eyes at his grin::
I wasn't specifically thinking about that kind, though. Dig a little deeper...come on, you're a reformed felon...yes, reformed...you've still got a little Maquis despite yourself...an officer and a gentleman...you're a father to a grown woman, a grandfather...
::decides to skip the 'widower', lord knows what kind of tailspin that would cause::
It's a compliment, Tom. Really.