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Covert Ops... [Nov. 8th, 2007|09:32 pm]
[Tags|, , ]
[mood |predatory]
[music |Break Each Others Hearts Again-Reba McEntire and Don Henley]

::rounds corner, taking a quick survey of the corridor...good, empty...before proceeding::

::skids to a halt before ltcmdrtomparis' quarters, carefully punching in codes::

::takes another cautionary look::

Oh, lord a'mighty, do you really care what people think?

::doesn't answer self...the things age does to ones edge::

::besides...he apparently does::

::steps in, pressing a finger to lips in thought as the doors slide shut::

::eventually smiles...time to get to work::

[User Picture]From: ltcmdrtomparis
2007-11-09 02:59 am (UTC)
::twitches in sleep, dislodging death grip on second pillow::

::sniffs, promptly catching a whiff of the first one...laundry day soon, maybe?...::

::mutters at banal train of thought that interrupted dreams...good ones, at that::

::sniffs again...hell, not bad, maybe they smell more appetizing without a recycle::
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From: jennydelaney
2007-11-09 03:11 am (UTC)
::steps into main bedroom, wiping evidence of work from hands into shirt::

::pauses, catching a glimpse of target in brief glimmer of light::

::shakes head...he ought to just replicate a safety blanket, the poor man::

Oh, well.

::steps forward decisively...sort of::

::catches sight of the framed picture by the bed and reconsiders earlier idea to just...well, join him::

Can beds be possessed?

::decides to save research on vengeful Ocampan spirits for another time, tip-toeing around to the other side of the bed instead::

::grabs tufts of pillow, attempting to dislodge his cling::
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[User Picture]From: ltcmdrtomparis
2007-11-09 03:19 am (UTC)
::wrinkles brow, catching whiff of another scent...could be one of those hallucinary dreams...::

Pillow doesn't smell, Paris.

::satisfied with own firm reassurance, tightens grip again::


Pillow isn't alive, Paris...

::reaches, futilely attempting to hold onto corners::

::releases last of grip, scowling...dreams like this could only be a bad sign, mentally::

::blinks, dragging eyes open in effort to self out of it::


::blinks some more::
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From: jennydelaney
2007-11-09 03:20 am (UTC)
::claps hands, smiling in delight at the sight of...okay, hazy...blue eyes::

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[User Picture]From: ltcmdrtomparis
2007-11-09 03:22 am (UTC)
::lets pillow fall to floor with a faint thump, taking a few, saving seconds to consider the myriad possibilities::

::in the end, settles on just asking::

What the hell are you doing in here?
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From: jennydelaney
2007-11-09 03:26 am (UTC)
::switches to a frown...really, that tone::

For all you know I could have rushed in here to warn you about an impending attack.

...the alert system is tetchy.

::straightens, folding arms and releasing a put upon sigh in response to his look of mulish antipathy::

I wanted to beat everyone to the punch.

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[User Picture]From: ltcmdrtomparis
2007-11-09 03:47 am (UTC)
Great, so now there's a 'hit Paris while he's out' pool?

::heaves a long, unsatisfying sigh::

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From: jennydelaney
2007-12-06 02:59 am (UTC)
::finishes bringing foot forward, effectively sweeping the pilot's seat out from under him::

::ignores muffled Ow!, kicking the piece of furniture aside and reaching for his collar::

::crouches daintily, meeting flabber-gasted blue eyes::

What is next, Tom?
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[User Picture]From: ltcmdrtomparis
2007-12-06 03:03 am (UTC)
::sighs, releasing last, thin, thin shred of dignity::

Fine, fine. We can take this thing to warp, if it means that much to you.
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From: jennydelaney
2007-12-06 03:11 am (UTC)
::claps hand over mouth, not quite disguising mixed snort and giggle::

::quickly coughs, tossing head back while batting away moisture in eyes::

It does.

::relents, loosening grip, falling back on ass as he clambers up::

Lord a'mighty, I'm sorry.
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[User Picture]From: ltcmdrtomparis
2007-12-06 03:25 am (UTC)
::finishes yanking shirt back down, fast-rising irritation blinking out at her jagged apology::


::offers a hand, waiting until she's on her own two feet again before daring eye contact::

::offers a slight grin::

Your humble pie isn't nearly as filling as your omelet was.
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From: jennydelaney
2007-12-06 03:36 am (UTC)
::looks past him, taking in abandoned meal...and remembering the point of it::

::claps hand over mouth again, shaking head::

No, I'm really sorry. It's your birthday, for Pete's sake...
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[User Picture]From: ltcmdrtomparis
2007-12-06 03:40 am (UTC)
::follows her gaze, then moves on to nearest chronometer::

Not yet, we still have a few minutes.
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From: jennydelaney
2007-12-06 04:11 am (UTC)

::hitches breath, lowering eyes to take in numbing hand, clenched tightly within his own::

::lifts them, lashes batting in cautious flirtation::

I guess we should find a more memorable way to ring it in than doing dishes, then.
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[User Picture]From: ltcmdrtomparis
2007-12-06 04:56 am (UTC)
::reads companion's look, loosening grip on her hand and lifting it to chastely kiss the offended digits::



::pulls lips away as her fists clench nervously in reflex, staring::

::briefly drops the grip entirely, transferring it...both hands this time...lower, snagging shapely hips and drawing her nearer::

::expels a faint breath of determination, dipping head to meet her kiss::

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