||[Jun. 12th, 2009|02:34 pm]
::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.
You most certainly do not, Will Riker.
::braces one hand on hip disapprovingly as husband's head whips around::
::beckons with other, stepping from hidey-hole created by a combination of foot traffic and afternoon shadow::
Just on time.
Come on, before the Admiral has a heart attack.
::I hate when you do that.::
::lifts brows at shrug given in response to deliberate telepathic bleed::
I decided to have a quick dinner before walking over. They never feed you here.
::purses lips, determined to to show amusement::
If I can survive, so can you.
::pauses once inside doors, turning to quickly straighten his collar and pips::
Now, don't be upset, but there appear to have been a few last minute changes to the roster. Admiral Paris wouldn't tell me anything earlier, but he did say the new staff candidates would be here this evening.
Candidates? Does that mean I can still veto them?
::takes silence as a no::
We just spent weeks picking out people I thought I might be able to tolerate!
::sighs at reproving look::
....or people who might be able to tolerate me?
It can't be that bad, can it?